O’Hara proceeded on his heartbreaking mission. Soon the leading platoon of the British army was in front of Washington. Many of the round-hatted English soldiers were in liquor; but most of the troops were well dressed, many of them in new uniforms, and they adhered to the letter of the articles of capitulation. The British and German flags were cased and carried ungloriously past gorgeous French standards and proudly flying American colors. All the music continued to be what Washington had prescribed, English or German, not French or American, in return for the British demand at Charleston that the drums of the despised “rebels” should “not beat a British march.” Silently and slowly the troops filed to the surrender ground, and then, after a while, they began the return march, with no emblem of the soldier except uniform and knapsack.
Washington had invited General O’Hara to dinner, and O’Hara proved to be sociable and entirely at ease, with none of the air of a captive. When the meal was over and Washington could turn again to business, he found that no news had come of any hitch in the surrender of the Gloucester post to Choisy.
At the day’s end Washington undertook the most delightful of all miltary duties. Three times previously, three times only, Washington had addressed to Congress papers that announced major successes—the occupation of Boston, the capture of the Hessians at Trenton, and the retreat of Clinton from Monmouth. None of these had been comparable in prisoners and in booty to Yorktown. Washington could prepare a “victory dispatch” in the loftiest use of the term and entrust the delivery of the paper to a staff officer he wished particularly to honor. Trumbull must draft the paper; when it was revised and copied, it must be placed in the hands of the faithful, selfless Tench Tilghman for delivery to Congress. No officer of the Army had earned a better right to this conspicuous distinction.
The dispatch began: “Sir, I have the Honor to inform Congress, that a Reduction of the British Army under the Command of Lord Cornwallis, is most happily effected. The unremitting Ardor which actuated every Officer and Soldier in the combined Army in this Occasion, has principally led to this Important Event, at an earlier period than my most sanguine Hope had induced me to expect.” The rest was praise of others.
CHAPTER / 17
Caution justified by many failures in hours of high hope made Washington dwell more on the possible ill effects than on the manifest gains of Yorktown: “. . . my only apprehension (which I wish may be groundless) is,” he wrote, “lest the late important success, instead of exciting our exertions, as it ought to do, should produce such a relaxation in the prosecution of the war, as will prolong the calamities of it.” His mind was shaping itself to resolution that he would make his major task for the winter that of arousing the States and assuring French naval superiority, as far as exhortation could, for the campaign of 1782.
General Orders issued the day after the surrender did not dwell upon these fears but, in congratulating the Army, put first in praise “His Most Christian Majesty” and then, rightly, the French fleet and the army of Rochambeau. Victory had been achieved by the aid of France. Feeble, inexperienced America never had a prospect of winning her independence by force of arms until her ally protected her waters and defeated or blockaded the fleet of Britain. Within less than two months after France displayed naval superiority off the coast of the United States, the only large British army not in a heavily fortified city had been compelled to surrender. Sea power made Yorktown possible.
If de Grasse’s weight of metal deserved the importance that Washington attached to it, the service of Rochambeau’s army most certainly came next. Particularly was the American commander indebted to Rochambeau for support, and to the French engineers and artillerists for their skill and their knowledge of siege tactics, though Washington’s own engineers and artillerists were not lacking in skill. On the contrary, Washington believed that both Duportail and Knox should be promoted to Major General. It was to the credit of Knox and virtually the whole body of American officers that their emulation of the French was marred by little or no jealousy. The American Army saw a fine disciplinary example and outdid itself because it followed that example. This was undertaken, by happy chance, on ground that nowhere could have been more favorable to combined attack and blockade. Cornwallis had chosen a position convenient rather than defensible, ideally accessible to a rescuing fleet that required deep water but a trap without control of the waterways.
Washington had a final basis of victory the credit for which was primarily his own. This was the speed of his concentration. Although he had not brought everything together until the last of the heavy guns of Rochambeau was available at Yorktown, he had established a record that must have been vastly better than his adversary expected from the previous achievements of the Continental Army in covering ground.
The next stage of the war would, it seemed to Washington, be shaped primarily by the fact that British superiority at sea would be reasserted as soon as de Grasse left American waters. That dictated utmost diligence in removing all booty from reach of a fleet that might enter the Chesapeake. De Grasse must be prevailed upon, if possible, to join in a swift attack on Charleston, South Carolina, or the destruction of the British base at Wilmington, North Carolina. De Grasse ruled out an attempt on Charleston and, after promising to convoy an expedition to Wilmington, he quickly withdrew from this commitment. Washington had to accept the decision with the appearance of cheerfulness, but he was loath to abandon plans for strengthening Greene and prepared to send infantry overland to the Southern Department in addition to the cavalry he already was assembling and equipping. Arthur St. Clair was to head this force and ascertain, as a first move, whether it was desirable and practicable to re-occupy Wilmington. In event the North Carolina port could not be captured or was not worth the effort its occupation would involve, St. Clair was to join Greene. With reenforcement and the help of the nearby States, Greene was to be left to “win those laurels,” said Washington, “which from his unparalleled exertions he so richly deserves.” For the winter, Rochambeau would remain in the vicinity of Yorktown. With his own troops, less St. Clair’s column, Washington would return north. He then would maintain close communications with the South, resume the guard of the Hudson and prepare for the campaign of 1782. The States must be exhorted to keep their Continental regiments at full strength; Congress was reminded that “an effectual and early preparation for military operations” would give America advantage “either for war or negotiation”; a contrary course would “expose us to the most disgraceful disasters.”
Hostilities had terminated only in the small area where Cornwallis had been surrounded. There was distinct possibility the sound of distant fire in Chesapeake Bay might interrupt a festive dinner in a camp near Yorktown. On October 24 Washington received an express from Gen. David Forman concerning the expected departure from Sandy Hook of a total of ninety-nine sail. This news was accepted as authentic, but Washington and de Grasse doubted whether Graves would come to the Virginia capes; both were confident he would be defeated if he did offer battle. Not until the twenty-eighth did Washington have further news. Then a message from de Grasse announced that the British fleet, or at least a part of it, had been sighted. The next morning the wind was adverse for the outward movement of the French ships. Before night the number of hostile vessels outside the capes rose to forty-four. Still Washington waited; still de Grasse let his ships swing at anchor. The British continued to maneuver until three o’clock on the afternoon of the thirtieth and then disappeared. Washington’s conclusion was that Graves would not reappear while de Grasse was in the Chesapeake. In that belief Washington busied himself with preparations for his own departure and with final plans for the removal of stores from Yorktown. This would be a task that could be entrusted to subordinates, because de Grasse had promised that the French fleet would not leave until all the American troops and their supplies were at Head of Elk. Gratefully and without hitch the Commander-in-Chief discharged the final duties of courtesy.
Washington
said au revoir in a round of visits November 4 and the following day rode to Williamsburg with his staff. Thence he followed the happily familiar road to Eltham—and immediately encountered tragedy. Jack Custis had ridden southward from Mount Vernon and had gone to his step-father’s Headquarters, as a temporary civilian aide, but he had soon developed what was termed “camp fever.” Because of this, the young man left Jones’s Run and went back to his aunt’s home. Martha, Jack’s wife and his oldest girl, Eliza, hurried to his bedside; doctors did their feeble best. It was in vain: he was dying when Washington arrived and succumbed in a few hours. His mother was prostrated. Washington had to send his staff on to Mount Vernon while he remained at Burwell Bassett’s home to arrange the funeral and comfort Martha and the young widow.
Not until the eleventh could the General set out for Mount Vernon. He stopped in Fredericksburg to see his mother, but as she was absent on a visit, the party pushed on towards Mount Vernon. It was November 13 that the soldier drew rein at his own door. He then found time for some private business and for discussion with Lund Washington of the affairs of the estate, but even to his quiet refuge came the loud echo of public applause. He received the thanks of Congress, congratulatory letters from friends, an address from his Alexandria neighbors and, doubtless, saw a few of the newspapers that were reporting celebrations, lauding him and exulting over the enemy.
Washington could not linger over the gazettes or the accounts of his steward, because he had both hopes and fears that he felt he should report to Congress. On November 20, he, Martha and a few members of his military family started for Philadelphia, via Annapolis. At the Maryland capital he had the heartiest of welcomes and the most bountiful entertainment. On the twenty-third he left on the Baltimore ferry and, to the extent that his wife’s comfort permitted, hurried to his destination by the swiftest combination of road and water travel. Arrival in Philadelphia on the twenty-sixth was unannounced and unmarked by ceremony. He found a thinly attended Congress, anxious to press the war in the South and, at the same time, reduce expense and dismiss surplus officers. Washington received notice that he would “have an audience” on November 28, and when he appeared at the designated hour he had something he desired far more than compliment: With a single sentence about the glorious success of the allied arms in Virginia, the President, John Hanson, affirmed of Congress: “It is their fixed purpose to draw every advantage from [the victory] by exhorting the States in the strongest terms to the most vigorous and timely exertions.” The General’s reply was an expression of thanks and of pleasure that Congress would urge the States to exert themselves. “A compliance on their parts,” he said with his usual conservatism of speech, “will, I persuade myself, be productive of the most happy consequences.”
That “audience” by Congress fixed the pattern of Washington’s labor in exact accordance with his prime concern. “My greatest fear,” he already had written Greene, “is that Congress, viewing this stroke [at York-town] in too favorable a light, may think our work too nearly closed, and will fall into a state of languor and relaxation.” Again and again, he dwelt on that fundamental: unless Congress and the States prepared adequately and soon for the campaign of 1782, the victory at Yorktown might be the preliminary of defeat. In terse words he reiterated his maxim, “without a decisive naval force we can do nothing definitive.”
Thoughtful Delegates were ready to begin consideration of the future of the Army. Plans for 1782 were formulated with little delay. All the States were called upon to supply men to fill out their Continental regiments to the totals established in October 1780; the Commander-in-Chief was directed to give notice of the general officers he would need in the next campaign. The others were to be retired on half-pay with the proviso that they could be called to active duty if necessary. Surplus officers of lower rank were to be released in substantially the same manner. The unpleasant task of retiring those officers not named by Washington was delegated to the Secretary of War. That position was filled by the choice of Maj. Gen. Benjamin Lincoln, who gradually was to take from the shoulders of his senior much of the burden of staff departments. Washington had also the prospect of relief in another direction—at the hands of Robert Morris. The Superintendent of Finance made a contract with Comfort Sands & Co. to supply officers in the district of West Point with provisions—an arrangement the acceptable performance of which would save Washington many an hour of worry.
During the weeks these measures were being hammered into defensive weapons, the enemy remained quiet in New York and at adjacent posts. Washington consequently had no immediate anxiety over the secure custody of the Hudson defences. He found no added reason for alarm, even in the Southern Department. January days brought no bad news from Greene. Congress approved still another system of army inspection and put Steuben in charge of it; McDougall reported the threat of a mutiny on the Hudson but this did not appear to be serious. It was followed unpleasantly by notice from Heath that he had placed McDougall under arrest for charges tantamount to insubordination. Washington perhaps heard, also, that the contract with Comfort Sands & Co. had provoked disagreement within little more than three weeks after it had become effective.
These were vexations, but they were small in comparison with those Washington had known in every other winter of the war; nor did quiet in one month mean turmoil the next, as so often had happened. A small British raid on New Brunswick in January was followed by a long period of quiet in February. No additional British troops reached Charleston; on the contrary, when Forman announced on February 23 the departure from Sandy Hook of a transport fleet, he forwarded also a rumor that the vessels were to be used in evacuating the garrison of the South Carolina port.
Fifteen weeks now had elapsed since Washington had arrived in Philadelphia. They had been the least warlike period of the entire struggle and socially one of the most pleasant the General and his lady ever had shared. He must have been embarrassed by adulation he could not escape, but when March brought an end to weather of great severity and to his conferences with the Delegates, he felt he should return to the field. His one remaining duty in the town was drafting instructions to Henry Knox and Gouverneur Morris as commissioners for the exchange of prisoners. As Martha was going with him to camp, he had to plan a comfortable and not too hurried journey. By the eighteenth, arrangements were so near completion that he notified Congress he wished to rejoin the Army on the Hudson. In answer he was notified that Congress “would admit him to an audience of leave” at 10:30 A.M. of the twenty-first. He obediently stood with two members flanking him while the President assured him of the esteem and confidence of Congress and commended him to “the protection of Divine Providence.”
When Washington reached Newburgh March 31 he found the controversy over the provision contract aflame and Heath and McDougall at war because of Heath’s arrest of the New Yorker. The Commander-in-Chief deplored so unseemly a dispute between senior officers, but he always had adhered to the principle that if serious complaints were made officially, they should be submitted to a court, and he did not intervene now. The situation with respect to the provisions contract did not call for forbearance. Comfort Sands and the sub-contractors were not keeping the agreement made with the Superintendent of Finance, and the General’s largest continuing labor was that of demanding in plain words that Comfort Sands or their successors fulfill their contract from stock and provisions that now were abundant.
It was a time of perplexity and of fluctuating hope that peace was near. Washington reasoned that the operations that might be undertaken in America by the allies depended on four contingencies—Britain’s resolution to prosecute the war, the naval support France gave, the number of recruits the States supplied, and the money available for the Army. He did not believe it possible to make a siege of Charleston, nor could he ascertain yet whether the French fleet would be able to convoy troops to South Carolina or join in an attack on New York. As for the States, their response to the call for men was altogether unpromisin
g and their willingness to finance the campaign was worse than doubtful. He had to await developments in the belief that reports from London of early peace were intended to deceive. Washington received on May 9 a letter from Lieut. Gen. Sir Guy Carleton, who had succeeded Sir Henry Clinton. Carleton announced his arrival and said that he was “joined with Admiral Digby in the commission of peace” and most anxious to reduce the needless severities of war. This hint of a settlement was taken up eagerly by Americans and discussed for weeks in Congress, the newspapers, and private correspondence. Washington remained skeptical.
The summer was not altogether disagreeable. Washington allowed himself a soldierly privilege previously denied him: Attended by Gov. George Clinton, he left Newburgh June 24 and proceeded to Albany, Saratoga and Schenectady, in order that he might see for himself the towns of which he had heard much. Washington reviewed troops and attended dinners; but he was concerned to find that British, Indians and refugees had made a raid down the Mohawk and that the rebuilding by them of the fortifications at Oswego was anticipated.
He was back at Headquarters July 2 in time for the celebration of the Fourth, a celebration that was doubled in its satisfaction by word from Luzerne that a great French fleet under the Marquis de Vaudreuil might arrive off the American coast in July or August. This was followed July 9 by another surprise from the Minister: Rochambeau was “moving” the French army “towards the head of the [Chesapeake] Bay where,” said Luzerne, “he will be at hand to take such measures as you may judge proper as soon as we receive news from Europe.” The French General suggested a conference, and Washington set out the very next day for Philadelphia. The two met in frank and cordial council on the sixteenth. Washington left Philadelphia in full accord with the French and with Congress and, by July 27, reached Newburgh again.
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