American Crisis

by William M. Fowler Jr.

  As if living in the shadow of Washington was not enough, Lincoln also had to contend with the energetic and savvy superintendent of finance, Robert Morris, whose authority over money—what little could be found—was nearly absolute. Lincoln struggled mightily to assert himself in this competitive and tangled bureaucratic web. When Washington left for Newburgh Lincoln hoped to assume a portion of the commander in chief ’s mantle, giving him greater influence at the Monday night gatherings and in Congress. But Morris beat him to it and rushed to fill the political gap left by the commander in chief ’s absence.2 In Washington’s presence Morris had always been careful to frame his opinions in ways designed to avoid unpleasant confrontations with the revered leader. Once the general departed, however, and as the financial situation of the Congress imploded, the superintendent was far more forthcoming in his views. When asked by the hectoring quartermaster general, Timothy Pickering, to approve additional army supply contracts, Morris refused, telling him “it is better that the Campaign should stop than that I should Authorize engagements which cannot afterwards be fulfilled.”3 When Pickering reported Morris’s comment to Washington, the commander in chief cautioned the financier that while he understood “the Necessity of Oeconomizing the public Monies,” he feared that in the case of the army Congress would “spin the thread of oeconomy till it breaks.”4 The army had already borne more than its proper share of congressional parsimony, and Washington urged that it not to be called upon to suffer more misery.

  Washington had heard the Cassandras wail before. The toll of nearly eight years of war bore heavily on him. He had been home only twice in that time. He was a commander who had lost more battles than he had won; witnessed thousands of soldiers die; endured long weary marches; suffered through brutal winter encampments, all the while laboring under the direction of a weak and nattering Congress struggling to finance a war, gain international recognition, and hold a teetering thirteen-state coalition together. Worried, but not discouraged, at least in his public persona, Washington pressed ahead. He did not trust the British with their “delusive offers of Peace.” He warned that the enemy was trying to lull America into a “stupor.” In his view the ministry was toying with Congress and using the post-Yorktown interlude to regroup and consolidate its forces.5 News from the Caribbean of Admiral Sir George Rodney’s crushing victory over the French at the Battle of the Saintes reinforced the fear that the British might try a comeback.

  For the British, the entry of France into the Revolution in 1778, followed by Spain in 1779, turned their colonial rebellion into a world war against old imperial adversaries.6 Once in the fray, France seized the opportunity to descend on the rich sugar islands in the British West Indies. Jamaica was the juiciest plum of all. In pursuit of this prize on the morning of April 8, 1782, Admiral de Grasse, having returned to the islands after Yorktown, departed his base at Martinique with a battle squadron of thirty-five ships of the line convoying a large fleet of transports for an assault on Jamaica. De Grasse planned to rendezvous off Hispaniola with a Spanish fleet bringing additional ships and soldiers. Anticipating the French movement, the British commander, Admiral Rodney, positioned his fleet at nearby St. Lucia ready to intercept. When warned by his scouting frigates that de Grasse was on the move, Rodney got under way with thirty-six ships of the line. That evening the two fleets came within sight of each other in a narrow passage known as the Saintes between Guadeloupe and Dominica. At dawn on the ninth, the battle commenced. It was a running fight that lasted nearly four days and resulted in a decisive victory for Rodney, including the capture of Admiral de Grasse. Although he was criticized for not pursuing the scattered French fleet, Rodney’s triumph gave the Royal Navy unchallenged superiority in the West Indies.7

  Rodney’s victory, reported to him in early May, worried Washington on several fronts. He was still harboring hope of an attack on New York City. Such a move depended upon naval support, which only the French could provide. The news from the islands sank any expectation of that happening. Second, with the Royal Navy now in control of the West Indies and Jamaica secured, Washington feared that the enemy might feel sufficiently confident to redeploy forces to North America. He distrusted Shelburne, writing his friend James McHenry that “no Man has ever heard him” agree to independence, while to George Clinton, governor of New York, he confided that the British “want to amuse us in America, whilst they attend to other parts of their Empire; which being secured, they will have time and means to revert to this Continent again, with hopes of Success.”8 Washington was concerned that the British would use Rodney’s triumph as propaganda to play “an insidious game” to discredit the French and undermine American resolve. Only “vigorous preparations” to meet them would “make them think of peace.”9

  Should the enemy “revert to this Continent,” Washington had no doubt that New York City would be their first stop. From that secure post they might strike almost anywhere they pleased. The American commander’s first consideration was always to confine the enemy to the city. Even as he focused on New York, however, rumblings from Vermont caught his attention.

  Tucked between New York and New Hampshire, Vermont (also known as the New Hampshire Grants) was tempting fare for both states, which for decades had been quarreling over ownership. In the mid-eighteenth century New Hampshire’s royal governor, Benning Wentworth, pushed the claims of his colony far beyond the natural border of the Connecticut River, across the Green Mountains to the fertile valleys abutting Lake Champlain.10 His nephew and successor as governor, John Wentworth, continued his uncle’s policies, causing even more consternation in New York, where the colony’s government roundly denounced New Hampshire’s claims and moved to assert its own control over the disputed lands. Both Wentworths ignored New York’s objection and went ahead offering hundreds of land grants and creating 128 New Hampshire townships. Land titles were a tangled mess while political authority over the disputed land was left in hot contention.

  The collapse of royal authority in 1775 opened the door for disgruntled Vermonters to claim an independent status free from the Crown, New York, and New Hampshire. Among the leaders of the “separatists” was Ethan Allen, who led a vigilante band calling themselves the Green Mountain Boys, a group of “stout fellows” who carried “a firelock with ball or buckshot answerable, and a good tomahawk.”11 When he first met Ethan Allen Washington thought him “too ambitious.”12 Later, after the rambunctious Allen had led an ill-fated attack on Canada, and had been taken prisoner, Washington complimented him for “his fortitude and firmness.”13 While Allen was a prisoner Vermont declared independence and wrote a constitution (the first in North America to abolish slavery) and elected Thomas Chittenden its chief magistrate.14 Over the vocal protests of New York and New Hampshire, the new republic quickly petitioned Congress for admission as a state. But the delegates from New York and New Hampshire roared their objections to admitting Vermont into the confederation. Congress danced about the issue, and by the time Washington retired to Newburgh in the spring of 1782 Vermont’s status was still in dispute. In the meantime, Vermonters, on the lookout for a better deal, began negotiations with General Haldimand in Canada.15 In a porous world, however, those negotiations were hardly secret. Haldimand reported to General Clinton, “[I have read] the substance of all that has passed in my negotiations with Vermont” in a Fishkill, New York, newspaper.16 Notwithstanding his “negotiations,” Haldimand placed little faith in the flirtatious Vermonters. He reinforced the Crown Point garrison on Lake Champlain to keep an eye on them.17

  Washington had even more reason to distrust Vermonters. Not only were they playing both sides in a “political Game”; they were also harboring hundreds of deserters from the Continental army.18 The “Grants,” as he referred to the region, was “an asylum to all deserters” who had been lured there by promises of protection and land.19 In a sober tone he wrote to Chittenden, being careful not to address him as “Governor.” He warned him that by their double-dealing Vermont was f
ast losing “Friends,” and that his correspondence with the “enemy” was a “bad tendency.” In a somewhat soft but pointed tone Washington assured Chittenden that while “coercion” on the part of Congress against Vermont might be “disagreeable,” he did not rule it out.20 In private, however, he admitted that invading Vermont was highly risky if for no other reason than that the men there would be fighting with “Halters about their Necks.”21

  Chittenden and his allies got the message and stood off from the British, but they continued to press their extravagant border claims against New York. Such behavior kept Vermont out of the American republic until its admission as the fourteenth state in 1791. However, without support from Vermont Haldimand could never hope to mount an invasion, so Washington’s northern flank was secure.

  By late spring 1782 Washington’s Hudson River encampments numbered 8,500 soldiers fit for service.22 The bulk of the army bivouacked on the west side of the river, with outlying posts to the south at West Point and King’s Ferry (Stony Point) and on the opposite bank at Verplanck’s Point, where a ferry crossed the Hudson. Washington’s chief challenge was maintaining discipline and morale. In this he had little help from the states, for the replacements they sent were often recruited at local taverns in the haze of booze and the promise of bounties. The commander in chief was “astonished,” he told Heath, when he saw the recruits from Massachusetts, who were “so very improper for service.” They were a “horrid imposition on the public.” The officer who signed them up ought to be “arrested,” wrote Washington.23

  In the same week in early May when the new recruits from Massachusetts marched into camp, worse news arrived from a Connecticut regiment under the command of Colonel Heman Swift. On the morning of the fourth Swift discovered that men in his regiment were plotting a mutiny. Under the guise of gathering to play ball, the conspirators planned to rally their fellow soldiers and then march to the arsenal at nearby Fishkill, seize the cannon, and descend on the Connecticut legislature in Hartford to demand their pay. Summoning loyal troops to assist him, Swift arrested the ringleaders, Sergeants Jarold Bunce, Ambrose Gaylord, and Wyman Parker. Washington ordered the conspirators held for court-martial. On May 12 the court acquitted Bunce and Gaylord. Parker was found guilty and hanged the next day.24

  Quick and harsh justice was a hallmark of eighteenth-century military establishments, and the Continental army was no exception. On June 30, 1775, barely two weeks after creating the army, Congress approved Articles of War, a set of rules and procedures for administering military justice. Although modeled on British regulations, under which Washington himself had served in the French and Indian War, the American version was decidedly less harsh. Indeed, in Washington’s judgment the Articles of 1775 were too lenient. In the face of high rates of desertion and a blatant disregard for discipline, Washington urged Congress to revise the Articles. In September 1776 Congress enacted a new and harsher set of regulations that, among other things, raised the limit on flogging from thirty-nine lashes to one hundred.25

  The revised Articles described both procedures and punishments. Critical distinctions were made between officers and enlisted men. Minor offenses were dealt with on the regimental level, while more serious charges passed up to higher command. When charged with an offense, officers might be arrested but not generally confined. Enlisted men were confined. Trials themselves rarely lasted more than a single day. The most common punishment for an officer convicted of a less than capital crime was dismissal from the service. Enlisted men were more likely to be flogged, one hundred lashes not being unusual. Dr. James Thacher, a surgeon in the Sixteenth Massachusetts Regiment, and an eyewitness to many floggings, described the scene.

  In aggravated cases, and with old offenders, the culprit is sentenced to receive one hundred lashes, or more. It is always the duty of the drummers and fifers to inflict the chastisement, and the drum major must attend and see that the duty is faithfully performed. The culprit, being securely tied to a tree, or post, receives on his naked back the number of lashes assigned him, by a whip formed of several small knotted cords, which sometimes cut through the skin at every stroke. However strange it may appear, a soldier will often receive the severest stripes without uttering a groan, or once shrinking from the lash, even while the blood flows freely from his lacerated wounds. They have adopted a method they say mitigates the anguish in some measure; it is by putting between the teeth a leaden bullet, on which they chew, while under the lash, till it is made quite flat and jagged.26

  General courts-martial, charged with hearing the most serious crimes and empowered to impose the death penalty, could only be convened “by order of the Commander in Chief, The Commanding Genl., in any of the States, or the Secretary at War in the place where Congress may reside.”27 Convening authorities also had the authority to review decisions by inferior courts-martial.28 In the administration of military justice Washington had the same, but no more, authority as other convening authorities. He did not review decisions beyond his immediate command. In the South, for example, General Greene exercised as much authority over his troops as did Washington in the North. On a day-to-day basis line officers confronted with the pressing need to coerce their men to submission generally had little sympathy for enlisted men who defied authority. Hence, when sitting in judgment they were likely to adhere to a strict interpretation of the Articles and mete out punishment according to the letter of the law.

  By far the most common crime in Washington’s military world was desertion. In the Continental army it was never difficult to walk away. An expansive frontier and a population unwilling to turn in deserters made it relatively easy for soldiers to disappear. During the course of the war 20 to 25 percent of the American army took their own leave.29 Simple desertion merited flogging and return to service. Desertion with fraudulent reenlistment—deserting one unit and enlisting in another to obtain a bounty—was also a flogging offense. Desertion to the enemy was punishable by hanging. Going over to the enemy and mutiny were considered among the most heinous crimes and were punished by death. Other lesser crimes included theft, violation of regulations, and assault, all generally subject to flogging, confinement, fine, or discharge.30

  Washington paid close attention to the courts meeting under his authority.31 He was a strict disciplinarian but also a realist who understood that, unlike the British and German automatons that served King George III, American soldiers were civilians only temporarily in uniform. Washington’s soldiers held notions of liberty, rights, and status that often interfered with good military discipline. As commander he faced the fact that nearly one in four of his soldiers deserted every year and that in seven years of war his army had been rocked by no fewer than fifty mutinies, including the one most recently discovered by Colonel Swift.32 Had he adhered rigidly to the Articles, the hangmen and firing squads would have enjoyed little rest. Terror had no place in Washington’s repertoire of command techniques. “Soldiers cannot simply be ordered to die—they must first be persuaded.” The object of discipline was to “persuade.”33

  Wednesday May 22, 1782, was a busy day at Hasbrouck House, and no one was busier than Washington’s aide Colonel Jonathan Trumbull.34 One of Trumbull’s tasks, which he shared with the other aides, was to draft letters for the commander in chief ’s signature. Since arriving at Newburgh Washington had dispatched an average of three to four letters each day. On May 22 the number jumped to ten. Trumbull drafted eight. Among the letters was one to the secretary of foreign affairs expressing alarm at the news of Rodney’s victory and the “derangement” it was likely to cause, and another warning Governor John Mathews of South Carolina that British overtures were “Delusory.”35 Half of the letters went to subordinate officers, including Nathanael Greene and William Heath. Also sent was a General Order approving the sentence of hanging to be meted out to Shem Kentfield for deserting to the enemy.36

  Headquarters was buzzing on May 22, but not solely because of the volume of work. One of the letters drafted
by Trumbull that day was to Colonel Lewis Nicola.37 It was among the most important letters Washington ever signed.

  Colonel Lewis Nicola was a distinguished American officer. Grandson of Huguenot refugees, Nicola was born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1717. His family purchased a commission for him in the British army at the somewhat advanced age of twenty-three. After marrying, over the next twenty years Nicola served in a variety of military posts mainly in Ireland. In the mid-1760s, faced with the reality of peace, and a reduction in the army, Nicola retired from the king’s service. He and his family left Ireland sometime in 1766 for Philadelphia.

  Blessed with a bit of money, good health, and a modicum of education, Nicola enjoyed success as a storekeeper and then branched out to establish a fee-based circulating library. Nicola moved in literate circles. In 1768 he was admitted as a member of Philadelphia’s esteemed American Philosophical Society, a learned organization founded by Benjamin Franklin in 1743.38 He also served a brief, albeit unsuccessful, stint as a magazine publisher.

  When the Revolution broke out, he was one of the few ardent Whigs with professional military experience. The Pennsylvania Council appointed him town major of Philadelphia, a post akin to provost marshal. Having relaunched his military career, Nicola, urged on by his friends, took the opportunity to write and publish a long military manual aimed specifically at instructing the newly formed militia in Philadelphia.39 He emphasized that his work was purely practical, omitting all exercises that were “only for Show and Parade.”40