American Crisis

by William M. Fowler Jr.

  Timothy Pickering, an eyewitness to the event and a friend to the folks at Ellison House, summed up the feelings of those who had hoped for more “manly” measures. The meeting, he wrote to his wife, was yet again “another instance of the fecklessness of popular assemblies.” Washington’s performance had “shown how easily a fluent orator with plausibility only to support him may govern … as he will.” Once the commander had spoken, it was impossible to stand against the tide. Pickering admitted that when the resolutions came to the floor he even voted aye, explaining that had he done otherwise, he should “stand alone.” No one other than Washington dared stand alone. Strangest of all, he observed, there were men in the room who had participated in and approved of the “Anonymous Addresses” who voted in favor of a resolution declaring their own work “Infamous.”57

  After the meeting Knox, accompanied by General Philip Schuyler, rode back to West Point in his carriage. The two men sat in absolute silence.58 The next day was a quiet one at Hasbrouck House. Trumbull prepared only one dispatch for the commander’s approval, a short notice to the president of Congress assuring him that all had gone well at the previous day’s meeting and that as soon as possible full details would be forwarded. Ironically, the first task for Gates’s staff was to prepare copies of the resolutions for dispatch to Congress.59

  While Washington was taciturn and reserved in his reactions to the meeting, Knox was far less restrained. Eager to spread the good news as quickly as possible, and to ease concern in Philadelphia, on Sunday he sent two long reports to that city. To his friend McDougall, the army’s chief lobbyist, he wrote that the “ferment which was passed in the minds of the officers” had been relieved, but this was not the time to slack off, and he urged the general not to let up his “solicitations” on behalf of the officers. To Secretary at War Benjamin Lincoln, Knox reported that “the occasion though intended for opposite purposes has been one of the happiest circumstances of the war and will set the military character of America in a high point of view.” He described the “masterly performance of Washington” and insisted that the secretary publish the speech “immediately.” The members of Congress had to be pushed, for if they “ha[d] the most latent spark of gratitude the generous proceedings of the army must call it forth.”60

  Chapter Twelve

  While the drama at Newburgh was unfolding, Captain Joshua Barney’s ship Washington dropped anchor at Philadelphia on March 12 with copies of the preliminary treaty negotiated in Paris. “The Public dispatches received by the vessel,” reported the Pennsylvania Packet, “although they do not announce a peace to be concluded yet the negotiations were still going on every thing was settled between America and Great Britain.”1 Reports of Barney’s arrival spread quickly, and within a few hours members of Congress were writing home to announce (albeit prematurely) the good news that the war was over.2 The fears of the nationalists that in the comfort of peace the states would be lulled away into division and insouciance were now ignited.

  Hardly had the news from Paris settled in when Washington’s letters of March 12 to Jones, Hamilton, and the president of Congress arrived, alerting them to events at Newburgh. Pricked by the events at camp and facing the near certainty of peace and dissolution of the army, Congress asked Morris what steps had been taken to settle accounts for back pay. The question was rhetorical. The members knew that virtually nothing had been done. The next day Morris ordered the paymaster general, John Pierce, to collect all the necessary information to prepare for settlement. Given the chaotic condition of the records, Pierce faced a Sisyphean task.

  On March 22 Congress received a packet from Washington containing a full report on the proceedings of March 15 as well as two supporting documents. The first was a representation made by the commander in chief to the committee of Congress more than four years earlier, on January 29, 1778, urging half pay for officers and warning of the consequences should Congress ignore the officers. The second enclosure was an extract from Washington’s letter to the president of Congress dated October 11, 1780, expressing his concern about the manner in which Congress continued to treat officers of the army.3 Washington sent these undoubtedly to give proof that contrary to what some might allege, he had not been lax in warning Congress of the dangers of discontent in the army. In an emotionally charged accompanying letter Washington described how he would feel if Congress did not answer the pleas of his officers and forced them “to grow old in poverty wretchedness and contempt”: “Then shall I have learned what ingratitude is, then shall I have realized a tale, which will embitter every moment of my future life.”4

  On the same day that Washington’s packet arrived, Congress voted “five years full pay … instead of the half pay promised for life” for “officers as are now in service, and shall continue therein to the end of the war.” This was the very compromise suggested months earlier by McDougall and was fully acceptable to the officers. Events at Newburgh, Washington’s most recent pleas, and the news of peace had combined to turn the tide.5 With the war essentially over for financial and political reasons, disbanding the army became a top priority. Given their threats not to stand down unless they received pensions and pay, the officers stood as a potential obstacle to demobilization. By promising five years’ pay Congress hoped to be able to disperse the army, divide its ranks, and break its political leverage. The promise of pay was both cynical and astute. Since Congress was nearly bankrupt and had little hope of raising new revenue, its commitment to pay was hollow. For their part, officers were aware of the empty treasury, but to go home with at least a promise of pay was better than refusing discharge and remaining in camp.6 As for the enlisted men, invalids were promised a pension of five dollars per month, while ordinary soldiers were entitled only to their pay and a “gratuity” of eighty dollars at the end of their enlistment. Washington justified this treatment of the rank and file by arguing that in addition to what Congress provided, they had been amply rewarded by their states with enlistment bounties and land grants.7

  The next day, March 23, Lafayette arrived to confirm the news in person of a “general peace.” Over the next three weeks Congress recalled American warships at sea, suspended enlistments in the army, opened communications with Carleton and Digby, proclaimed a cease-fire, and finally, on April 15, approved the preliminary treaty of peace.8

  From Newburgh Washington followed events closely. He still saw no evidence that the British were preparing to leave New York, and he remained deeply skeptical of the enemy’s intentions. Having no official instructions from Congress, he summoned his senior officers. His greatest fear, he told them, was that when the soldiers who had enlisted for the duration of the war, the “war men,” making up nearly two thirds of his entire force, heard the news of peace, they would demand discharge. But was the war over? Cessation of hostilities did not mean peace. General Heath caught the spirit of the men and warned that “the men inlisted to serve during the war are expecting their Discharge and probably cannot be held many days longer.”9 In New York Carleton’s spies reported to him that the “dissolution of the American Army is hourly expected.”10 Left with no word from Philadelphia, Washington pondered with his officers how to prevent “the dissolution [sic] of the army.”11

  Perhaps, he suggested, the news from Paris ought not to be “communicated immediately,” but his officers saw the folly in that approach. The soldiers were as well informed on current events as their commander. Keeping the news under wraps was “impracticable as well as impolitic” and could only result in “dangerous consequences.”12 Taking their advice, on April 18 Washington issued a General Order.13

  The Commander in Chief orders the cessation of hostilities between the United States of America and the King of Great Britain to be publicly proclaimed tomorrow at 12 o’clock at the Newbuilding, and that the Proclamation which will be communicated herewith, be read tomorrow evening at the head of every regiment and corps of the army. After which the Chaplains with the several Brigades will render thanks
to almighty God for all his mercies, particularly for his over ruling the wrath of man to his own glory, and causing the rage of war to cease among nations.

  Having announced the great moment, Washington continued in his order to remind the army that this was an announcement of a “prohibition of hostilities and not the annunciation of a general peace.” The war was not over, and the army was not discharged.

  At noon the next day, April 19, the eighth anniversary of the battles at Lexington and Concord, officers crowded into the public building to hear the proclamation of peace.14 Three loud “Huzzas” went up, after which “public thanks” was offered by the Baptist preacher Chaplain John Gano, followed by the singing of the anthem “Independence” by Boston’s patriotic composer William Billings “accompanied with the band.”

  The States O Lord with Songs of

  Praise Shall in their Strength rejoice And

  Blest with Salvation raise to Heav’n their cheerful voice

  To the King they shall sing Halleluiah

  Thy Goodness and thy tender care have all our fears destroyed.

  And the Continent shall sing: God is our rightful King.

  God is our gracious King

  May his Blessings descend, World without end,

  On ev’ry part of the Continent.

  May Harmony and Peace begin and never cease

  And may the Strength increase of the Continent.

  May American Wilds be fill’d with his Smiles

  And may the Natives bow to our royal King.

  May Rome, France and Spain and all the World proclaim

  The Glory and the Fame of our Royal King.

  Loud, Loudly sing that God is the King:

  May His reign be Glorious, America victorious

  And may the earth acknowledge God is the King.15

  As the cheers faded and the band fell silent, soldiers made their way back to their huts, some shouting “discharge, discharge.”16 Even if it meant leaving without pay, Washington’s soldiers were anxious to return home.17 Discontent bubbled up. Washington warned that he could not “hold them much longer.” The men were angry and sullen. They refused orders and insulted officers. He increased the “guards to prevt rioting.” He wrote Hamilton on April 22 that discharging “the War men as soon as possible” was an absolute necessity.”18 Having not yet ratified a definitive treaty, Congress mulled over the issue until May 26, when it resolved that the commander in chief might at his discretion “furlough” the “war men.” Since men on furlough might be recalled, these soldiers were technically still in service, though in the minds of men on their way home the difference would be purely semantic.19

  Official dispatches regarding peace did not reach Carleton until April 6. Two days later he proclaimed a cessation of hostilities.20 Within days a surge of loyalists flowed into New York City. “Since the proclaiming of the Cessation of Arms,” according to New York’s loyalist chief justice William Smith, “upwards of 2000 people … have flocked hither.”21 He also observed, “The dissolution of the American Army is hourly expected” as a result of the news.22

  Carleton did what he could to care for the refugees. He felt a deep responsibility for those who had lost everything only to end up ill treated by both friend and foe. He was not, however, inclined to such feelings toward others who sought entry into his city, including grasping predators prowling about seeking to buy goods at cheap prices from people likely to be forced to abandon many of their possessions as they fled America. Common criminals, “malignant villains,” flocked into New York as well. Unwelcome on either side, they saw in the confusion of the city an opportunity to prey on frightened refugees.23

  Even more distressing to the general were pestering “voyeurs,” people who asked permission to visit the city with no other purpose than to gloat over forlorn loyalists. When a French officer, the Chevalier de Lavalette, sought a pass into the city for apparently just this reason, Carleton refused him: “People in grief shun the inspection of strangers such as have contributed to their misfortunes,” wrote Carleton. “This city can afford no entertainment to you.”24

  Carleton’s difficult situation was not made easier by the Americans. On the same day that he issued his proclamation ending hostilities, he ordered American prisoners released. Despite widespread accusations of British cruelty toward Americans in captivity, men held under Carleton’s care had been well treated. When Luzerne, the French minister in Philadelphia, suggested otherwise, Carleton took quick umbrage and shot back that since he had come to America “no man ha[d] died in any prison under [his] command.”25 The issue of prisoners was weighing on the general’s mind. Although he had released prisoners in British jails, the Americans were slow in reciprocating.26 Carleton suspected that Washington was preparing a spring campaign against him, and was reluctant to release soldiers who would only reinforce his enemy. Carleton was also annoyed by the fact that when dealing with the Americans he often found it difficult to discover who was actually in charge, and with whom he should deal. Washington, wont to plead deference to civilian authority, often passed him off to the Congress, and that body in turn was inclined frequently to defer to state authorities. Such, for example, was the case with arrangements for the final evacuation of New York City.

  Few in America were more pleased at the news of peace than New York’s governor, George Clinton. Elected first governor of the newly formed state in 1777, he and Washington had long been close associates. As soon as Clinton had news of Carleton’s proclamation he rushed to Washington’s Newburgh headquarters from the state’s temporary capital at Kingston. After seven years of occupation he was anxious to see the removal of the British from New York City. Washington agreed, but in his usual style the commander in chief deferred to his friend the civilian governor to open correspondence with Carleton. Given the importance of the moment, no ordinary messenger would do, so Clinton summoned the state attorney general, Egbert Benson, and pressed into his hands instructions to “wait on his Excellency Sir Guy Carleton … to make a Convention for the speedy obtaining possession of the Southern District of this State and for gaining Possession of any Port or Place occupied by the British Troops.”27 Accompanied by Captain John Stapleton, the deputy adjutant general of the British army in North America, Benson crossed the lines in northern Manhattan at Kingsbridge on Friday April 11, where he took quarters in a local tavern while Stapleton rode on to British headquarters. In the morning Stapleton reappeared, announcing to Benson that “Sir Guy Carleton was ready to receive” him immediately.28

  As soon as the attorney general arrived at headquarters trouble began to surface. Puffed up by the whiff of victory, Benson cast aside the customary niceties of indirection and oblique conversation that generally accompanied such moments. He drove right to the point, telling Sir Guy that he saw no need of explaining why he was there; “the Instructions,” which Captain Stapleton had delivered to him the day before, “were sufficiently explicit as to the object of my errand,” a convention to provide for the evacuation of the city “as soon as Possible.”29

  Carleton deflected Benson with “much Conversation … very foreign … to the business” of his mission, reported Benson. Impatient with the general’s verbal chaff, Benson told him that he would take “no farther part in the Conversation than a due Regard to Decorum and Civility” obliged him. No doubt Benson’s “Decorum and Civility” did not meet Carleton’s aristocratic standards of behavior. When the general got down to business he ended the meeting by passing the baton, telling Benson that “the Terms of the Convention ought to originate with” Governor Clinton.30

  The next day Benson returned to resume negotiations. This time the general skipped the preliminaries and launched into a criticism of the states for passing harsh laws respecting the treatment of loyalists and their property that “imped[ed] the great Work of Peace.” Benson, taken aback at the general’s sudden change in tone, asked if this meant that he was “revoking his Offer of the day before to enter into a Convention.”
Carleton insisted that he was still committed to a “Convention,” but he was “desirous [that] Matters might not be precipitated but left to mature of themselves.” “Here,” the American reported, “the conference ended.”31

  Carleton’s evasive manner sparked suspicions about British intentions. Benson’s own misgivings grew. Despite Carleton’s repeated protestations that he lacked sufficient transports to move his troops and the refugees, Benson counted “upwards of 200 transports” swinging lazily on their anchors in the harbor and offering no indication of making ready for sea. Indeed, Benson observed that rather than preparing to leave, men were “still daily detached to work on the Fortifications.” He concluded, “I have the fullest Persuasion that Sir Guy Carleton is not seriously disposed to enter into a Convention, and that he only intends to save appearances to negotiate and by that means to effect a Delay.”32