American Crisis

by William M. Fowler Jr.

  Shelburne had made it abundantly clear to Carleton that the general’s prime mission was to negotiate a peace with the Americans that would keep them within the empire, or at least closely associated with it. Independence was still too bitter a pill to be swallowed. Do all that you can, Shelburne urged, to split the Americans from their French allies. The prospect of a continuing transatlantic Franco-American alliance aimed at Britain was too horrible to contemplate. As evidence of British intentions toward America, while he negotiated peace Carleton was also ordered to make preparations to evacuate Charleston, Savannah, and New York, and if necessary St. Augustine. Foreign soldiers (that is, German mercenaries) were to be transported home while the king’s regular forces were to be shipped to Nova Scotia and possibly the West Indies depending upon circumstances. He was to attend to the safety and well-being of the loyalists, providing them transportation to England or to Canada, where land grants awaited them. Carleton confronted a Sisyphean task.57

  Chapter Four

  Had shelburne and carleton known more about the distressing situation of Washington’s army, they might have had second thoughts about evacuation. When Washington left his encampment on the Hudson in the summer of 1781 to begin his march to Yorktown, he took with him the “flower of the army,” leaving behind mostly militia, invalids, and raw recruits under the command of Major General William Heath.

  “Corpulent and bald headed,” as he described himself, Heath was not one of the commander in chief ’s favorite generals.1 His moment of fame had come and gone more than six years earlier when he commanded the Massachusetts militia that chased the British back to Boston from Concord and Lexington. He remained at his post as commanding general in Massachusetts until the Second Continental Congress adopted the army in June 1775 and commissioned Washington commander in chief. With a Virginian at the head of a Yankee army, Congress thought it wise to give recognition to local officers, and thus commissioned Heath a brigadier general. During the New York campaign in August 1776, Congress promoted him to major general.

  A “political general,” Heath had only modest military abilities. In January 1777 he bungled an attack on Fort Independence on the Hudson, causing Washington to take the unusual step of issuing a written “censure.” Heath’s fellow Massachusetts officer, the crusty Timothy Pickering, who rarely had a good word to say about anyone, was particularly harsh toward his comrade, remarking that Heath’s conduct was a “disgrace.” Nonetheless, Heath’s political influence, particularly strong backing from Massachusetts, made it difficult for Washington to be rid of him. It was neither the first nor last time that the commander in chief would face the challenge of where to put an officer so he was likely to do the least harm. Since the British in New York City under Clinton showed no inclination to venture up the Hudson, the Highland forts guarding that river had seemed a reasonably safe place to post him.2

  As the troops sent north from Yorktown arrived back on the Hudson, Heath dispatched them to various sites, ordering them to prepare for winter. To feed them, he sent out foraging parties to gather up supplies for the coming winter. One “grand forage,” carried out by General John Glover’s brigade, brought in “two prisoners; a quantity of corn, hay, etc and about 40 swine.”3 Other smaller parties scoured the countryside, returning with considerable booty, much of it purchased with nearly worthless Continental script, but a good portion simply taken, sometimes violently, particularly if the owner was suspected of loyalist leanings. Not even the fertile Hudson Valley, however, could support the locustlike demands of the soldiers. As winter dragged on, food ran short and soldiers sickened. Winter clothing was scarce. Colonel John Crane, an artillery officer, wrote Henry Knox that “the men are exceedingly naked, destitute of pay and not well fed.”4 In early December smallpox swept the camp. Heath ordered inoculation, but several died. As the weather worsened, Heath ordered the men to construct huts.

  For most of the time cold, snow, and ice kept the Americans and British confined. Seeking to take advantage of the season and surprise the British, the American commander in Albany, General William Alexander, better known as Lord Stirling, suggested attacking across the border into Canada and Vermont.5 Thanks to the machinations of the Allen brothers, Ethan and Ira, politics in the Green Mountains were convoluted and fluid. Caught between competing claims for their land by New York and New Hampshire, Vermonters had taken a sometimes ambivalent position on the Revolution. Stirling had heard rumors that the Allens were in conversation with General Frederick Haldimand, the British commander in Canada.6 A surprise American strike north, Stirling argued, would prevent the Vermonters from going over to the British. Reports of Stirling’s plan alarmed Haldimand, but neither Stirling nor Heath could muster the men for a march north.7

  Unable to undertake any serious action, both sides broke the tedium of camp life by launching raids. Heath sent American light horse into Duchess and Westchester counties, targeting loyalists. Often executed by local patriot militia with old neighborhood grudges to settle, the raids turned into bloody opportunities to visit murder and mayhem on the enemy. Armed bands of loyalists retaliated quickly and with equal violence.

  To the dismay of regular commanders on both sides, this irregular warfare turned personal and vicious, and proved nearly impossible to control.8

  Occasional raids notwithstanding, the boredom of winter gave ample time for grousing among the enlisted ranks as they huddled in their rude huts. Officers were not immune, for like the men they commanded, they had not been paid either. Frustration had reached such a level that even commanders in the highest ranks, including General Henry Knox, the commander at West Point, were grumbling. Knox was particularly angry when his aide-de-camp, Major Samuel Shaw, informed him that the securities Congress had given him in lieu of pay were “little better … than so much blank paper.”9 Discontent was rife and spreading. Some senior officers hinted at mutiny. In an usually blunt manner Colonel Henry Jackson warned his commander and friend Knox that the army was “exceedingly uneasy.” The “public,” he reported, “have no idea of the distressed situation of the Army.” He recounted that “from morning to night and from night to morning you will hear some of the best officers and soldiers (that any nation could ever boast of) execrating the very country they are risking their Lives, lands and health to support.”10 Knox agreed.

  Rumblings of discontent in the ranks were not confined to the army in the North. From the South General Nathanael Greene sent alarming reports about the mood of his troops, whose pay was also deeply in arrears, and who suffered from congressional neglect. He warned Robert Morris that “the distress of the Officers are great and many of them have drained every private resource in their power. Men may bear their sufferings to a certain degree beyond which it is dangerous to push them nay ruinous. Clouds of discontent hover over our heads from all quarters.”11

  As spring approached and the weather warmed, ice on the Hudson began to break and supplies arrived from Connecticut and Massachusetts. With fresh provisions the men recovered their health. Sanitary conditions, however, remained deplorable. Lice thrived in the cramped filthy condition of the huts. By the end of winter typhus, the “putrid fever,” broke out.12 In such confined quarters respiratory diseases spread with virulence. The weather signaled relief, but not before hospitals were filled and the grave diggers busy.

  Better weather meant the return of the commander in chief. Preparations for his arrival needed to be made. Although Washington traveled light compared to his British counterparts, his headquarters command numbered several dozen men, including his personal guard, mess cooks, military aides, and secretaries. Martha, too, was joining him. Finding appropriate quarters for the general fell to Quartermaster General Timothy Pickering, who happily delegated the job to his deputy, Colonel Hugh Hughes.

  Hughes had a heavy task. During the course of the war Washington had set up his headquarters in 169 different locations, including private homes, taverns, and field tents stretching from Massachusetts to Virginia.1
3 Some places such as the Vassal House in Cambridge and the Chew House in Philadelphia were large and elegant; other accommodations were less impressive. At Valley Forge the commander’s quarters were cramped and tiny. In the Highlands, prior to the siege at Yorktown, he had kept his headquarters at the home of William Ellison in New Windsor. That house was no longer available, so Hughes had to scout for new quarters.

  Hughes needed a place large enough to accommodate Washington and his immediate “family.” This meant not only a main building but barracks for soldiers, stables for horses, warehouses for supplies, and a secure magazine for powder and weapons. It was a tall order, and security loomed large. With the British and their loyalist raiders prowling about the country south of West Point, the commander needed to be north of that post, but within close communication. Locating near the river would provide Washington with easy access to water transport both for himself and the supplies necessary for him and his staff. Hughes settled upon a home in Newburgh, just north of the village of New Windsor and fourteen miles upriver from West Point.14

  Although the house itself was unprepossessing, the location was spectacular. Situated atop a slope reaching gradually down to the Hudson, the stone house offered a view stretching for miles along the river in either direction. Across the river was a hill commanding a view down the river that made it impossible for anyone to approach without detection. The original structure, built in 1725, had been a simple two-story affair; after 1749 it had been enlarged by the new owners, Joseph and Elsie Hasbrouck, to a reasonably spacious farmhouse of eight rooms. Shortly after her husband’s death Elsie sold the house to her newly married son, Jonathan, and his wife, Tryntje DuBois. After thirty years in the house Jonathan died in 1780, leaving his widow to occupy the home alone.15

  She was not alone for long. In late 1781 Quartermaster General Pickering commandeered a portion of the house for himself and his wife, but allowed the widow to remain. This arrangement lasted only a few weeks when the widow was informed that the entire house was to be taken over by the commander in chief. Major John Tyson, the unlucky officer who was charged with delivering the news, reported that the flinty widow “sat some time in sullen silence her passion … too big for utterance.” Tyson told the widow not only that her home was to be taken but that “additional buildings were to be erected” on her property. She “made no reply.” Finally, after more “sullen silence,” the widow announced that she and “General Washington … could not both live in the House.” That may well have been a relief to Tyson since he had no intention of allowing her to stay in any case. The disheartened widow left for nearby New Paltz, where she spent the remainder of the war with her relatives. The Pickerings left quietly.16

  Once the widow and the Pickerings were out of the way, teams of carpenters arrived. For weeks, even during the coldest days, they worked furiously to convert a farmhouse into a proper headquarters for the commander in chief. The wharf had to be repaired first so that vessels could offload supplies. Once building materials arrived, stables and barracks went up to accommodate the soldiers and servants accompanying the general. The interior of the house was altered. A kitchen was constructed on the south side sufficient to prepare meals, some of them elegant and formal, for the general, his staff, and visiting dignitaries. Breakfast was ordinarily served at nine, dinner at two, tea at seven, and “family supper” at nine.17

  As the work went ahead, not everyone was pleased with the drain on resources. From West Point Heath complained that “we have scarcely any Hands here, they being employed at Newburgh, in erecting Stables, etc for his Excellency.” Despite the full press Colonel Hughes had a different view, lamenting to Heath, “I am afraid the Commander in Chief will be at Newburgh before I can possibly be ready for him.”18

  On April 1, 1782, the Washingtons arrived accompanied by aides, servants, and nearly two hundred soldiers of his Life Guard, under the command of Caleb Gibbs. The soldiers and their mounts found temporary space in nearby barns as well as in the newly erected barracks and stables. Inside the house, in addition to the general and his wife, about a dozen people took up residence. These included Washington’s slave Billy Lee and assorted servants. Also present, although never at the same time, were four aides who served the commander as secretaries, speechwriters, messengers, and confidants. These men were part of the “official family.”19

  Closest to Washington was David Humphreys, a Connecticut-born graduate of Yale, a former schoolmaster, and a skilled writer. After the war he returned with Washington to Mount Vernon to help him organize his papers and write a biography. Richard Varick of New York had been Benedict Arnold’s aide. Although cleared of any involvement in Arnold’s treason, Varick stood tainted until Washington appointed him a personal aide. Jonathan Trumbull Jr. came from a powerful Connecticut clan, his father being governor of the state. Benjamin Walker, born in England, had the distinction of being the only foreign officer in the “family.”

  For their bedroom the general and his wife took a small room in the northeast corner of the first floor. It had only one window, overlooking the river, and no fireplace. Heavy beamed ceilings and dark wooden floors made the Hasbroucks’ home a far cry from the lively sunlit rooms characteristic of Mount Vernon or the Georgian townhouses of Philadelphia. The jambless fireplaces, wide gaping stone apertures fronted by huge hearths, were foreboding.20 On the other hand, as Colonel Hughes noticed with some relief, these oversized chimneys drew well.21

  Away from the Washingtons’ small private space the house was abuzz with activity as aides bustled about. Unbeknownst to most of the staff at Hasbrouck House even as they were moving in, a secret operation was under way that could change the course of the war. Washington was anticipating important news.

  In September 1781 Prince William Henry, the seventeen-year-old son of King George III, had arrived at New York City serving as a midshipman aboard Admiral Digby’s flagship Prince George. The prince’s arrival created a hubbub in the city. Never before had a royal visited the colonies. Crowds gathered as the young prince came ashore, gawkers craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the heir to the throne. To the dismay of the city’s elite, the young prince kept a low profile; he spent most of his time aboard ship tending to his naval duties or in his shoreside quarters in Hanover Square.22 His presence was the stuff of endless gossip, which quickly reached beyond British lines.23 Among those who paid special attention to the prince’s arrival was Colonel Matthias Ogden, one of Washington’s chief spies. His agents reported that when not aboard ship the prince shared quarters with Commodore Edmund Affleck. The place, according to Ogden’s spies, was only lightly guarded. Seeing an opportunity for a grand coup, Ogden proposed kidnapping the prince. With a prince in hand, Washington would have a powerful lever for prisoner exchange. The commander in chief embraced the scheme and encouraged Ogden to go forward. “The spirit of enterprise so conspicuous in your plan for … bringing off the Prince William Henry and Admiral Digby, merits applause; and you have my Authority to make the attempt.” He cautioned Ogden “against offering insults or indignity to the persons of the Prince and Admiral.” As soon as he had them, Ogden was “to delay no time in conveying them to Congress.”24

  General Clinton also had an intelligence network, directed by Captain George Beckwith.25 Beckwith’s spies brought word back of Ogden’s plot. Clinton then doubled the guard at his own quarters “at eight o’clock every night” and did the same for the prince and the admiral. Ogden abandoned his plan.26 A few weeks later the prince sailed for the West Indies.27

  Far less diverting than plotting a royal kidnapping was the public brawl that broke out that spring between two of Washington’s most senior generals, William Heath and Alexander McDougall.

  New Yorkers knew the rough-hewn McDougall from the heady days of protest leading up to the Revolution. The son of “Milkman John” who carried pails of milk about the city, he was a leader of the “Sons of Liberty.”28 McDougall’s fiery temper and incendiary writings landed him in jai
l when he publicly assailed the legislature for supporting British troops. His imprisonment elevated him to the status of patriot martyr.29

  At the start of the war McDougall commanded the First New York Regiment. By 1777 he was a major general. Like so many of his peers, McDougall had an outsized ego. When the state legislature elected him to the Continental Congress he demanded that he retain his rank as major general and collect both salaries. Congress, always suspicious of military aggrandizement, refused to recognize his rank and insisted on addressing him as Mister. In a slap back McDougall wore his uniform during sessions. The final straw came when Congress, in March 1781, offered him a post as secretary of the Marine Department.30 Once again he demanded two salaries. Congress declined, and McDougall resigned in a huff, returning to his command in the Hudson Highlands a bitter man with little use for politicians.

  Heath, the self-important general, and McDougall, the fiery radical, detested each other, but as long as Washington was in the Highlands the two generals suppressed their mutual disdain. The commander in chief ’s presence also masked the chain of command since it gave McDougall the false impression that he and Heath were on a par in their relationship to Washington. McDougall was at West Point, and Heath kept to his post at Fishkill on the opposite side of the river and a dozen miles to the south. Washington’s departure for Yorktown in the summer of 1781 left a void in the command structure, into which Heath rushed to establish his legitimate, albeit unrecognized, authority over McDougall.