VALLEY FORGE
General Washington steered his army through a myriad of crises during its encampment at Valley
Forge (1777-1778). Edward Lengel writes “for Washington, Valley Forge was about makeshift measures,
improvisation, and, more than anything, hard work.” Among the simultaneous emergencies that
Washington had to manage were a failing supply system, food and provision shortages, disease, poor
sanitation, inadequate shelter, desertion, recruiting shortages, Loyalist sedition, marauding by desperate or
undisciplined Continental soldiers, prisoner exchanges, an inefficient or corrupt administrative system,
and intransigent politicians, all of which threatened the army with dissolution, starvation, mutiny, and
general collapse.1 Edward Lengel writes: “Washington’s army was sick. Poor living conditions,
wretched sanitation, and the after effects of a difficult campaign wore down the men until they became
vulnerable to disease….” Furthermore, medical supplies were scarce and local military hospitals “were
unequipped to handle the growing sick list….” Typhus and other diseases “flourished” in crowded
unsanitary conditions. There existed lice infestations. An inventory report from December 23, 1777
demonstrated that about 3,000 out of 12,000 troops at Valley Forge were “unfit for duty by reason of their
being bare foot and otherwise naked.” Even the so-called “fit” were thinly clad, due to a scarcity of
overcoats and blankets, shoes, shirts, and trousers. In short, clothes, food, weapons, ammunition, camp
equipment, tools, wagons, horses, and fodder were all scarce. Shortages resulted from excessive rain
(muddy roads and swollen rivers), Loyalist attacks on supply convoys, unsympathetic civilians, who
would rather sell their livestock and provisions to the British who purchased them hard money as opposed
to the “unreliable Continental currency,” and a poor/efficient military administration staffed with many
lazy, corrupt, or incompetent staff and organized into departments whose responsibilities were “poorly
defined”. Chains of command intersected and both state and national agents competed for the same
supplies.2 What’s worse, Washington was forced to confront these emergencies without the aid of many
of his junior field officers who did not stay at Valley Forge; instead demanding furloughs “in
unprecedented numbers”. Some never came back while others resigned. Thus, regiments were
commanded by majors while brigades were led by colonels. Nonetheless, Washington micromanaged, as
he “considered the burden of administering the army to be his alone.”3 Lengel describes Washington’s
routine at Valley Forge:
1
Edward G. Lengel, General George Washington, A Military Life, (New York: Random House, © 2005), ebrary e-book, 270.
2
Ibid, 272.
3
Ibid, 273.
almost every day he rode through camp, directing repairs or modifications to the huts, and pointing
out instances of poor sanitation….He inspected hospitals and wrote meticulous instructions on their
management, supply, discipline, and reform. He thwarted smallpox epidemics…by enforcing
widespread inoculation [against considerable opposition]. He remonstrated with Howe on the
treatment of individual American prisoners [and] intervened on behalf of British and German
captives….He mediated officer disputes, and helped settle controversies over promotion and pay….4
In monitoring the daily supply situation, Washington instructed commissaries where to look for clothes or
provisions, directed quartermasters to procure horses and wagons, determined individual convoy routes
and traced their progress in order to ensure they were not diverted. In addition to the aforementioned
short term (stop gap) measures designed to hold the army together throughout its winter encampment,
General Washington searched for “a comprehensive and permanent fix” to the “endemic administrative
weaknesses”. Washington wished to rebuild the army as well as reinvigorate and equip it to defeat the
enemy. His intention to re-form the army was announced in December 1776 whereupon every general
officer was requested to submit written statements on the subject, which Washington intended to
condense with his own views into a comprehensive report to be submitted to a congressional committee
for review and consideration the following month. Lengel notes “the resulting thirty-eight page letter
was…a minor masterpiece of military administration.”5 The new system sought to bring the regiments up
to full strength, increase enlistments through conscripting men from the militia, reduce resignations and
corruption by proposing increased pay, instituting new systems of rank and promotion, as well as
pensions for officers and their widows and orphans, instill greater discipline through the establishment of
a military police, reform the hospitals, redesign the commissary, clothing and quartermaster departments,
seek more efficient and reliable procurement sources and methods, improve drill and training, as well as
camp sanitation. Lengel writes “as a whole, George Washington created a new army, conceived and built
as a single unit.”6 Lengel attributes Washington’s success to his “industry” and “political savvy”.
According to Washington, Valley Forge’s “fatal crisis” came in February 1778, when troops ran out of
meat and bread. Inventories of warehouses in southeastern Pennsylvania turned out “only odd barrels of
salt fish or peas”.7 When hay and oats disappeared and horses died, wagons lay empty and idle. Many of
Washington’s officers predicted some disaster. There were early signs of mutiny in the ranks.
Washington admired “the incomparable patience and fidelity of the soldiery” for not allowing the
4
Lengel, 273-274.
5
Ibid, 275. Lengel concludes that Washington’s “appraisal” of the army “encompassed the large and small, the short and
long term; his solutions were creative, reasoned, and explicit.”
6
Ibid, 276.
7
Ibid, 279. Commisaries swore there was no more to be found.
excitement of their sufferings caused by being naked and starved to lead them “to a general mutiny and
dispersion”.8 Washington devoted much of his time and energy during the “fatal crisis” indulging
governmental officials at various levels. Rather than either threaten or cajole them, Washington
exaggerated “delicately” and “cautiously”; he offered subtle praise and appealed to their sense of
patriotism and pride. On February 12th, Washington ordered large detachments to scour surrounding
states for food and provisions. They succeeded in gathering enough food and supplies to preserve the
army in the short term. In the end, Washington was able to get results. “By the end of the month, herds
of cattle and wagon trains of all sizes had begun winding their way from Pennsylvania, New Jersey,
Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, and New England to Valley Forge. The fact this food was purchased
and not confiscated was of utmost importance, since Washington realized “he could not win the war
without popular support, and he could not command that support unless the army remained a defender
and not an oppressor of the people”. Whereas people grew accustomed to yielding to legislative acts and
civil authority “without reasoning about their propriety,…they have ever looked with a jealous [and]
suspicious Eye…on those of military power.” In addition to exciting, alarming, and enraging civilians,
liberal foraging might dispose the soldiers to “licentiousness,” “plunder,” and “robbery”. Such evils
would be hard to suppress and could ruin Washington’s army. Once he was able to procure sufficient
food in camp (with more on the way) as well thoroughly reform the administrative system, Washington
concentrated on preparing the army for a summer campaign. To this end, he dubbed Friedrich Wilhelm
von Steuben inspector general and charged him with the responsibility and trust of training the
Continental Army. This new system instilled confidence, discipline, a sense of professionalism, and pride
within the ranks. In short, the army that marched out of Valley Forge in May 1778 was not the same as
the rabble that entered it on December 19, 1777. Lengel concludes “the popular image of Valley Forge
depicts [Washington] riding among the huts, hunched with care but aglow with determination, and
spurring the troops to new feats of endurance. But [he] was a realist. The soldiers did not seek heroic
gestures. They wanted to see their leaders taking practical measures to bring food into camp. Practicality
was the key to his influence over them. [Rather than] waste time in banqueting, socializing, or making
speeches, he worked….He was toiling to keep the troops fed. Never was that perception more important
than now.”9
8
Lengel, 279.
9
Ibid, 279-280.
Book reviews of His Excellency: George Washington by Joseph J. Ellis
Review 1
“Washington Minus the Myth: Ubiquitous but Remote”
By MICHIKO KAKUTANI Published: October 26, 2004
In the space of his own lifetime, George Washington saw himself canonized, transformed from a
gung-ho fox-hunting Virginia squire into a transcendent symbol of the new American nation. He came to
be regarded, Joseph J. Ellis writes in his absorbing new book, as ''the American Zeus, Moses and
Cincinnatus all rolled into one'': ''No American had ever before enjoyed such transcendent status. And
over the next 200 years of American history, no public figure would ever reach the same historic heights.''
Washington's iconic status atop ''the American version of Mount Olympus,'' combined with his aloof
personality, poses a distinct problem for the biographer. He is ubiquitous, yet he is the most remote of the
founding fathers: the face on Mount Rushmore, the dollar bill and the quarter; the omnipresent symbol of
the nation's birth; and the ultimate father figure for the country. It's a forbidding role, as Mr. Ellis points
out, that makes Washington susceptible to the most reflexive Freudian impulses on the part of historians:
on one hand, a desire to place him on a patriarchal pedestal assembled from filial encomiums and dubious
legends (i.e., the old cherry tree fallacy); on the other, an Oedipal urge to dismiss him as ''the deadest,
whitest male in American history.'' Mr. Ellis gives us a succinct character study [of Washington] while
drawing on his extensive knowledge of Revolutionary and post-Revolutionary history to strip away the
accretions of myth and contemporary extemporizing that have grown up around [Washington]. Mr. Ellis
refuses to judge Washington by ''our own superior standards of political and racial justice'' but instead
tries to show how Washington was seen in his day. In doing so he gives us a visceral understanding of the
era in which the first President came of age, and he shows how Washington's thinking (about the war for
independence, the shape of the infant nation and the emerging role of the federal government) was shaped
by his own experiences as a young soldier in the French and Indian War and as a member of the Virginia
planter class. The resulting book yields an incisive portrait of [Washington] the man, not the [idealized]
marble statue [of Washington]. Mr. Ellis eloquently conveys the magnitude of Washington's
accomplishments: leading the ragtag Continental Army to victory against what was then ''the most
powerful and efficient machine for waging war in the world,'' and later presiding over the invention of a
viable American nation, a project that at the time was ''a fervent but fragile hope rather than a social
reality.''
What remains surprising about the narrative of Washington's life is the supremely ordinary nature of
his virtues. He was not a military genius: Mr. Ellis notes that ''he lost more battles than he won; indeed, he
lost more battles than any victorious general in modern history.'' He possessed neither the wisdom of
Benjamin Franklin, the intellectual sophistication of Thomas Jefferson, the effusive charm of John Adams
nor the political instincts of James Madison. What Washington did possess in spades was ambition,
stamina and the dogged ability to learn from his mistakes. He realized during the French and Indian War
and later at Valley Forge, Mr. Ellis writes, that if you can survive, ''you shall succeed.'' Like so many
biographers before him, Mr. Ellis points to Washington's self-control and stoicism as his primary traits,
but he is not content to simply cite familiar anecdotes commemorating these virtues. He argues that
Washington ''was an intensely passionate man whose powers of self-control eventually became massive
because of the interior urges they were required to master.'' Indeed many of the central events in
Washington's life, in Mr. Ellis's view, involved renunciation: the rejection of his love for Sally Fairfax to
marry the wealthy widow Martha Dandridge Custis (whose fortune catapulted him to the top tier of
Virginia's planter class); his adoption of a defensive, ''Fabian strategy'' against the British despite his own
more aggressive instincts; the symbolic surrender of his sword at Annapolis; his refusal to serve a third
term as president; and the dispersal of his estate (including the freeing of his slaves) in his will.
Once again Mr. Ellis reaches to [Sigmund] Freud to shed light on Washington's career and legacy. As
he sees it, the first president was subject throughout his life to an ''ongoing internal struggle'' that helped
him hammer out, ''on the anvil of his own ambitions, his elemental convictions about political power.'' For
instance, his insistence ''on a powerful Continental Army and a wholly sovereign federal government
became projections onto the national screen of the need for the same kind of controlling authority he had
orchestrated within his own personality; a recognition that he could no more trust the people to behave
virtuously than he could trust his own instincts to behave altruistically.'' In other words his federalist
vision of government amounted to a kind of national superego, meant to rein in the public's more
untrustworthy impulses. Mr. Ellis concludes that for Washington, ''the American Revolution was not
about destroying political power, as it was for Jefferson, but rather seizing it and using it wisely.'' His life,
in the end, ''was all about power: facing it, taming it, channeling it, projecting it.'' This assessment places
Washington in the forefront of the realistic tradition in American public policy; he believed that nations
would always behave solely on the basis of self-interest and that ideals on their own must never define a
government's or military's agenda….Mr. Ellis's book…provides a lucid, often shrewd take on the man Mr.
Ellis calls the ''primus inter pares, the Foundingest Father of them all.'' And it does so with admirable
grace and wit.
REVIEW 2
'His Excellency: George Washington'
By Jonathan Yardley, Sunday, October 31, 2004 ([email protected])
With two somewhat improbable bestsellers (Founding Brothers and American Sphinx) and a Pulitzer
Prize under his belt, Joseph J. Ellis doubtless is now the most widely read scholar of the Revolutionary
period, and thus probably the most influential as well -- at least among the general public, if not the
scholarly community, where the highest respect probably goes to Gordon S. Wood. But Ellis enjoys
sufficient professional as well as popular renown that his decision to weigh in with a reconsideration of
the life, character and reputation of George Washington almost certainly will have wide and perhaps
salutary ripple effects. Ellis says that "we do not need another epic [Washington biography], but rather a
fresh portrait focused tightly on Washington's character." It is a pleasure to report that he has succeeded.
The Father of His Country, Ellis correctly observes at the outset, "poses what we might call the
Patriarchal Problem in its most virulent form: on Mount Rushmore, the Mall, the dollar bill and the
quarter, but always an icon -- distant, cold, intimidating." Ellis's aim is to get beyond the monument into
the man, and he does so in a convincing, plausible way. Convincing, that is, to me. Biography is among
literature's most interesting and appealing endeavors but also among its most elusive. We can know the
facts about another person's life, but we can only guess about the person within. Ellis's interpretation of
Washington is based on a good deal of hard evidence, but he no doubt would be the first to acknowledge
that his speculation about the inner man is just that: speculation. It is all the more so in the case of
Washington, "the most notorious model of self-control in all of American history, the original marble
man," who was in fact, Ellis is at pains to show, "an intensely passionate man, whose powers of selfcontrol eventually became massive because of the interior urges they were required to master."
To understand Washington, in Ellis's view, we must look not to the general and the president but to the
young man, in his early and mid-twenties, who went west from Virginia as a militia officer into what was
known as the Ohio Country. There, from 1754 to 1759, he had "a truly searing set of personal experiences
that shaped his basic outlook on the world. Instead of going to college, Washington went to war." Forces
under his command suffered defeats; he witnessed the massacre by French and Indians of British and
American soldiers, and "for the rest of his life . . . remembered the scenes of the dead and the screams of
the wounded as they were being scalped"; he came to understand that what we now know as guerrilla
warfare was the only way to fight in the American wild, and he mastered it; he showed himself to be
"physically brave" and "personally proud," and "his courage, his composure, and his self-control were all
of a piece."
Serving on behalf of Virginia's British overlords, he developed a contempt for and resentment of them
-- especially their military leaders and colonial agents -- that motivated him for the rest of his life,
particularly during the Revolutionary War. Concerning his state of mind after the victory over Cornwallis
at Yorktown, Ellis writes: "The British had tried to destroy him and his army, but he had destroyed them.
He wanted the personal satisfaction that came with an unqualified, unconditional surrender. He wanted
them to say that they had lost and he had won. He wanted his vaunted superiors to admit that they were
his inferiors." This volatile mix of contempt and resentment (compounded, often, by envy) is a common
phenomenon that can have any number of psychological consequences; in Washington's case, Ellis
suggests, it was "bottomless ambition," but ambition that he successfully (for the most part) disguised
under his self-created shield of reserve, reticence and aloofness. It is no less important to know that
Washington harbored resentment and/or envy of those in the Virginia upper crust who had more land,
money and social position than he did. He was largely a self-made man, not the aristocrat he is commonly
assumed to have been. His marriage, though it seems to have become rewarding and close, "initially [was]
more economic than romantic," and Ellis takes an unsentimental view: "nothing he ever did had a greater
influence on the shape of his own life than the decision to marry Martha Dandridge Custis. Her huge
dowry immediately catapulted Washington into the top tier of Virginia's planter class and established the
economic foundation for his second career as the master of Mount Vernon." That deep insecurities
remained despite the standing his marriage afforded him is suggested by his "avaricious attitude toward
land," which "he seemed to regard . . . as an extension of himself" and always gave his most focused
attention. Fierce ambition, steely self-control, submerged resentments, a passion for land [all describe
Washington]. As Henry Wiencek put it in the title of his book about Washington and slavery, "an
imperfect god" -- but, in the eyes of most of his countrymen then and now, a god all the same. When
Washington was appointed commander in chief of the Continental Army, "both the New York and the
Massachusetts legislatures wrote congratulatory letters addressed to 'His Excellency,' which soon became
his official designation for the remainder of the war." He was not a monarch and later emphatically
resisted all efforts to push him in that direction -- "He was not an accident of blood; he had chosen and
had been chosen" -- but his "semi-royal status fit in the grooves of his own personality and proved an
enduring asset as important politically as the Custis inheritance had been economically." His dignity,
probity, equanimity and decency were beyond question. Standing 6'2", he was a head taller than most
others, physically as well as psychologically commanding.
At the end of the war he could easily have assumed an American throne, but at Annapolis in 1783,
after the signing of the peace treaty with Britain, he resigned as commander in chief; "he had sufficient
control over his ambitions to recognize that his place in history would be enhanced, not by enlarging his
power, but by surrendering it." He also understood that the new country, having thrown off one
monarchy, had no appetite for one of its own -- but that it needed a strong central government in order to
stand united, that "accepting the presidency meant living the central paradox of the early American
republic: that is, what was politically essential for a viable American nation was ideologically at odds
with what it claimed to stand for." As president Washington worked ceaselessly, if often quietly, to
establish the federal system we have taken for granted for generations, and did so over the opposition of
many who believed that this betrayed the goals of the Revolution. He knew that "American independence,
if it were to endure, required a federal government capable of coercing the states to behave responsibly,"
and achieving this is the great accomplishment of his eight-year presidency. He also was primarily
responsible for locating the nation's capital city on the banks of the Potomac, for engaging L'Enfant to
design it, and for closely overseeing its early construction.
For all his aloofness and his conviction that he was a superior human being, he was capable of
courtesy, kindness and compassion. His attitude toward slavery evolved slowly and was always
compromised by his own economic investment in slaves at Mount Vernon and his other lands, but he was
"the only politically prominent member of the Virginia dynasty to act on Jefferson's famous words in the
Declaration of Independence by freeing his slaves." He sought, with little success, to reach "a just
accommodation with the Native American populations." Still, the final judgment must be that he was the
ultimate realist whose "life was all about power: facing it, taming it, channeling it, projecting it. His
remarkably reliable judgment derived from his elemental understanding of how power worked in the
world." That he exercised his own immeasurable power to the lasting benefit of humankind is a legacy
almost beyond compare in the world's history.
Ramsay, David. The Life of George Washington. John Mark Ockerbloom, ed.
url: http://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/webbin/book/lookupid?key=olbp26771
David Ramsey writes “[General Washington’s] mild conciliatory manners, and the most perfect
subjection of his passions to reason, together with the soundness of his judgment, enabled him to serve his
country with equal effect, though with less splendor than is usually attached to military exploits.”
General Washington seldom despaired from the events he experienced during the Revolutionary War.
When he took over command of the Continental Army at Cambridge, and amidst the deficiencies in
military stores, bayonets, clothing, working tools, and engineers, Washington optimistically observed that
“he had the materials of a good army; that the men were able-bodied, active, zealous in the cause, and of
unquestionable courage”. His discordant army was comprised of troops that came into service under the
authority of distinct colonial governments. There existed a lack of uniformity within its ranks. The men
under his command were “animated with the spirit of liberty, and [massed] for its defence….” In light of
this, Washington was tasked with forming “one uniform mass” and to instill military discipline and
control. Such a task “required patience, forbearance, and a spirit of accommodation.” What’s more, the
moment Washington “made considerable progress in disciplining his army,” the terms of enlistment were
up (I.E. there was always a turnover of troops wherein seasoned veterans left and unseasoned recruits
came in). This is why Washington endeavored with members of Congress to extend enlistments and to
develop a system for continuing, supporting, and regulating the Continental army. Washington’s
insistence that the cause depended upon “those [troops] enlisted and embodied for a longer period than
our regulations have hitherto prescribed [i.e. a permanent army]” were ignored by a Congress that feared
the effects such an institution/establishment, dependant on the Congress or the commander-in-chief alone,
would have on American liberties. Congress, fearing the citizen might get lost in the soldier, preferred
short enlistments, a State system (that is one that wasn’t centralized or nationalized—a concentration or
consolidation of power), and calling up the militia. This opposed Washington’s proposal for a permanent
national army that was well equipped and supported. Throughout his urgings Washington maintained
“great warmth”. General Washington had to keep the Army together (a force in strength) despite great
sufferings, scarcity of food, clothes, and provisions, disease, dislike/disdain for military life, and a
dampening of the war’s initial enthusiasm and excitement. David Ramsey evaluates the significance of
this feat: “To preserve order and subordination in an army of free republicans, even when well fed, paid,
and clothed, would have been a work of difficulty; but to retain them in service and restrain them with
discipline, when destitute not only of the comforts, but often of the necessaries of life, required address
and abilities of such magnitude as are rarely found in human nature. In this choice of difficulties, Gen.
Washington not only kept his army together, but conducted with so much discretion as to command the
approbation both of the army and of the citizens.”
Against the pressures of an ardent and impatient public that expected for the Continental army to be
very active in terms of operations, Washington had to repress his own desire to open and commence
offensive operations and his “native spirit of enterprise” because he realized the real numbers and
deficient equipments of his army. As a result, Washington had to withstand charges he was either devoid
of energy, or wished to prolong his own importance by continuing the war. Throughout, Washington
endured these murmurs with patience. David Ramsey writes how Washington “well knew that by
adopting” a war of posts whereby he would defend his country by retreating, when he could no longer
stand his ground without risking his army “he would subject himself to the imputation of wanting energy
and decision; but with him the love of country was paramount to all other considerations.” In short, he put
national interests above his own personal reputation and prestige. The evacuation of New York and the
subsequent retreat through NJ, rather than illustrating the utter disarray of the Continental army,
conformed to this principle. David Ramsey writes “[Washington] kept up the semblance of defending
New York, though he had determined to abandon it, rather than risk his army for its preservation.” Of
course, there were exceptions to this general rule. For example, the Battle of Brandywine Creek reflected
the wishes (as opposed to the interests) of the Americans and was in response to the bulk of the American
people who grew impatient of delays “and had such an overweening conceit of the numbers and prowess
of their army, that they could not comprehend the wisdom and policy of manoeuvres [sic.] to shun a
general engagement….” [Ramsey] Even then, “though Washington failed in his object of saving
Philadelphia, yet he retained the confidence of Congress and the States. With an army inferior in
numbers, discipline, and equipments, he delayed the British army thirty days in advancing sixty miles
through an open country, without fortifications, and the waters of which were everywhere fordable (they
could be crossed). Though defeated in one general action, he kept together his undisciplined and illprovided army and in less than a week offered battle again. This, however, was prevented by a storm of
rain which ruined his ammunition, and, while many of his soldiers were without bayonets, he extricated
(evacuated) them from the most imminent danger and maintained a respectable standing. [Ramsey] Yet
another exception was the battle of Monmouth Courthouse. Prior to this engagement (initiated by
Washington), General Washington ignored counsel that “it would be criminal to hazard [such] an action.”
He didn’t share the conviction that America’s “late foreign connexions secured their independence,
‘unless their army was defeated.’” “Though cautious [Washington] was enterprising and could not readily
believe that the chances of war were so much against him as to threaten consequences of the alarming
magnitude which had been announced.” “[Washington] opposed the whole weight of his influence
against the fallacy of the prevailing opinion that peace was near at hand….” As a result, the States
yielded to the “pleasing delusion that their alliance with France placed their independence beyond the
reach of accident, and that Great Britain, despairing of success, would speedily abandon the
contest…[and] relaxed in their preparations for a vigorous prosecution of the war.” Washington
constantly had to convince the Congress of “the necessity for raising, equipping, and supporting, a force
sufficient for active operations.” [Ramsey]
Washington was driven by a sense of honor and a gust of passion; there are numerous examples where
he exerted himself to animate a fighting spirit in his men (sometimes successfully, sometimes
unsuccessfully), such as at Kipp’s Bay (unsuccessfully), Princeton (successfully), and Monmouth
Courthouse (successfully). At Kipp’s Bay, Washington “hazarded his person for considerable time in rear
of his own men, and in front of the enemy, with his horse’s head towards the latter….” Only his aids and
confidential friends could compel him to retire by means of “indirect violence”. Washington constantly
called on his men “so to act as not to disgrace the noble cause in which they were engaged”. [Ramsey]
Upon discovering that a cabal was maneuvering to force his firing or resignation, Washington put his
personal feelings aside and voiced his concern about the negative effects such dissidence would have on
the army and the war effort. Furthermore, he acknowledged his elevated station subjected him to such
ridicule and criticism and declared that he would gladly resign the moment the voice of the public
declared its dissatisfaction with his endeavors. Ramsey writes, “these machinations did not abate the
ardour [sic.] of Washington in the common cause. His patriotism was too solid to be shaken either by
envy or ingratitude. Nor was the smallest effect produced in diminishing his well earned reputation. Zeal
the most active, and services the most beneficial, and at the same time disinterested, had riveted him the
affections of his country and army.”
On several occasions, Washington demonstrated his skill of forcing (or preventing) decisions and
accomplishing objectives through maneuvers. By taking the fortified heights of Dorchester, Washington
forced the British to evacuate Boston. His overall strategy required such maneuvers, lest Howe (and later
Clinton) get into his rear and force a general engagement (battle) that would risk Washington’s army.
Washington insisted on fighting on his terms; he fought only when he enjoyed the advantage in terms of
numerical strength, tactical surprise, or superior position. For example, amidst a general evacuation of
New York, Washington was prepared to fight near the White Plains (Howe declined to bring a fight due
to Washington’s superior position on the hills). Washington boldly attacked Trenton while the British felt
a sense of security through conquest and, thus, spread out their forces in numerous cantonments
throughout New Jersey, observing “now is the time to clip their wings, when they are so spread”.
[Ramsey] Washington successfully commenced a 90 mile retreat in a few days through New Jersey
without a cavalry (minus a small corps of badly mounted Ct. militia), destitute of artillery, badly armed,
worse clad (in some cases barefooted) and “attended with almost every circumstance that could occasion
embarrassment or depression [and]…pressed with difficulties on all sides…through a desponding country
disposed to seek safety by submission than resistance” during the cold months of November and
December, thus narrowly escaping Howe’s clutches and frustrating his numerous attempts to get to his
rear and force a general engagement. [Ramsey] All the while he watched his lines deplete through term
enlistment expirations and desertions. David Ramsey writes “under all these trying circumstances,
Washington was undismayed. He did not despair of the public safety. With unconquerable firmness and
the most perfect self-possession, he was always the same, and constantly showed himself to the army with
a serene and undisturbed countenance.”
General Washington also possessed considerable energy and strength of character. His general orders
issued before/after the British landing at Staten Island demonstrate his efforts to inspire, energize, and
rouse his men to deeds of honor and great exertions while instilling discipline and honor within their
ranks. In superintending the evacuation of Staten Island (a decision made because he didn’t wish to risk
his whole force on a single engagement), Washington was indefatigable. He stayed awake for forty-eight
straight hours and was almost constantly on horseback. Not to mention, he was among the last to leave.
After the British took Philadelphia, and while the two armies were maneuvering in constant expectation
of an immediate attack, Washington personally delivered his orders to every brigade “with a firm steady
countenance” and instructed them on how to receive the enemy. Ramsey asserts that “respect for
[Washington] attached both officers and soldiers so strongly to his person, as enabled him to keep them
together under privations almost too much for human nature to bear.” It was Washington’s influence that
prevented the officers of the New Jersey brigade from carrying out their threats of resigning unless their
complaints on the deficiency of pay were addressed by the NJ legislature and that thwarted the Newburgh
Conspiracy. Washington exerted his influence to quell the general and mutual irritations that followed the
abandonment by the French fleet under D’Estaing of the American force under Sullivan that was
besieging Newport, RI.
Washington was also blessed with intuition. He successfully penetrated Howe’s designs to adopt a
new plan of operations by invading New Jersey, thus crossing the North River ahead of him. Washington
would not let himself to be coaxed, provoked, or outmaneuvered into a general engagement. Howe was
eventually fully convinced of the impossibility of compelling a general action on equal terms. General
Washington proved very deceptive during his withdrawal from Brooklyn Hieghts (the Revolution’s
Dunkirk) and his circuitous march from Trenton (denying Howe his planned attack) and subsequent
victory at Princeton. Washington possessed a true spirit of patriotism. In order to repulse Burgoyne’s
advance from Albany, Washington “diminished his own chances of acquiring fame, that the common
cause might be most effectively promoted by the best disposition of the forces under his command.”
[Ramsey] Washington exercised the extraordinary powers he was granted by Congress during the crisis
preceding Trenton with “reluctance and discretion”. [Ramsey]
According to Stephen McDowell, in Apostle of Liberty, The World-Changing Leadership of George
Washington, Washington’s greatness stemmed from his virtue. “He understood his duty and his proper
role, and he pursued them with invincible resolution.” What makes McDowell’s contribution unique, was
his interpretation of Washington’s character that attributed much of Washington’s resolution to “his belief
that God in His providence had chosen him to lead the new nation….”
George Washington
Rationale as to why he should be considered as a great military leader
Daniel Duerring
While one may admit that General George Washington does not compare to the likes of a Napoleon
Bonaparte, Hannibal, or Julius Ceasar, one cannot easily refute his leadership qualities or his “greatness”
as the Commander-In-Chief of the Revolutionary War. General George Washington is considered “great”
for numerous reasons. An early indicator of his virtuous character can be seen in the fact that he stated he
would accept no payment for his public service but that he would keep an exact account of his expenses
when he was chosen by the Continental Congress to be Commander-In-Chief of the American Armies,.
A later audit of Washington’s accounts (kept from June 1776 to 1783) revealed a discrepancy of merely
“89-90 of one dollar” out of more than $160,000 spent! At the start of the war Washington was already a
reasonably experienced soldier; still, neither he, nor a majority of his American officers were experienced
in large-scale warfare. Prior to the Battle of Long Island, Washington never led an army in the field—in
fact, that battle marked his first as a commander. Needless to say, his decision to split his forces in the
face of a superior foe violated an important maxim of war. Nonetheless, his planned evacuation from
Brooklyn Heights (the “Revolution’s Dunkirk”), has been applauded as an extraordinary operation that
allowed the army to live to fight another day. Prior to the evacuation from Brooklyn Heights and
following America’s drudging during the Battle of Long Island, Washington’s presence along the lines as
well as his overall concern for his men were always felt. Even more, Washington’s deception plans
contributed significantly to the withdrawal by maintaining the illusion of a full army in position for battle
on Long Island, as did his efforts to avert panic among his men. For his part, Washington risked capture
by staying behind until the last boat pulled off. Whereas Washington had proven considerably less than
impressive in his first battle command, he handled his first great retreat with a masterful steadiness and
dispatch. One of the casualties of these early campaigns was the naïve trust and reliance on colonial
militias. By the time of his retreat off Manhattan Island, Washington harbored no illusions about the
militia. With the existence/early successes of the Massachusetts colonial militia, a number of Americans
(Washington notwithstanding) began to discount the need to train and sustain a professional army.
Congressmen were all too eager to believe that untrained American militia armed with righteousness,
would always be more than a match for disciplined British troops. Washington astutely knew this was
not so. Rather, General Washington knew it would take more than local militias to conclude the war with
American victory. Amidst the disillusionment with the colonial militia’s capabilities and the ensuing
despair, Washington remained level-headed and proceeded to take charge of the war. Following the
retreat from Manhattan, he informed Congress that, henceforth, the Continental Army would no longer
seek to end the struggle in one titanic battle. Rather than seek a general action, they would endeavor to
protract the war. This apparently simple strategic change transformed the war into one of attrition—
precisely the type of war the British were least prepared to fight. It’s worth noting that most American
generals at that time were obsessed with the general action strategy. Washington’s grand strategic vision
included the realization that the revolution would continue as long as the Continental Army existed in
being. Subsequently, Washington assumed the strategic defensive. Initially, when he took command of
the Continental Army on July 2, 1775, Washington was “eager to pursue an aggressive strategy”. He
realized, however, that he was fortunate to have survived his eagerness to fight around New York in 1775.
Since his army was inferior to the enemy’s, it should not be risked except in an emergency. No city,
except perhaps Philadelphia, could warrant hazarding the army because it was, in the words of
Washington, ‘our arms, not defenceless [sic.] towns, they have to subdue.’ After 1776 Washington
assumed the strategic defensive and determined to win the war by not losing the Continental Army in
battle, fighting only when conditions were extraordinarily dangerous [1].” Royster corroborates this: “To
the generals, the Fabian Strategy of keeping the army together at the expense of posts and territory
seemed essential to a continuation of the war. To them, the revolution depended on the army [2].”
Washington was often criticized for his failure to win (rather seek) a prompt victory. His critics identified
his poor judgment, not the army’s weaknesses, as the reason General Howe was not defeated. They
alleged that his will needed to be strengthened and he needed to take bolder actions (i.e. fight decisive
battles), as well as set an example of courage, fighting zeal, and prowess to his men (these were
demonstrated at Trenton, Princeton, and Monmouth Courthouse). In addition, Washington was criticized
for not establishing more direct bonds with his men and for his reliance on the formalities of hierarchical
authority. Mostly, these criticisms were leveled by those who felt distress at the failure to procure a quick
victory. “Most of the criticism either asked for impossibilities—duplicating the defeat of Burgoyne [at
Saratoga]—or criticized [Washington’s] successes—cautiously keeping the army intact by maneuver
rather than risking destruction by standing fast to hold territory. But this kind of success was hardly more
agreeable to the generals than to the critics. Though they learned Fabian maneuver, it was not the kind of
war they wanted to fight. They wanted to meet the enemy directly and smash him. Washington and the
officers close to him knew that to date, they had been neither the kind of generals Americans wanted—
inspiring commanders who swept all before them—nor the kind of generals they themselves admired—
masterminds of a well-trained mechanism [3]. Washington masterfully practiced the art of remaining
active, thus thwarting war weariness, while remaining just out of the British grasp.
In one of many virtuous demonstrations, Washington humbly returned the dictatorial powers Congress
granted him to deal with the dire situation he faced on the eve of the Battle of Trenton within six months,
just as he resigned his officer commission at the height of his power and prestige, thus solidifying (if not
establishing) the important principle of civilian control over the military in America. Washington could
have easily become a king for life and he voluntarily gave it all up. No doubt, Washington was the
linchpin of the Revolution, the man who combined an ability to inspire loyalty in the Continental Army
with a steadfast commitment to the struggle’s ideals. In yet other instances, Washington demonstrated his
skills as “spymaster”. For instance, his deception plans foiled a British attempt to destroy the French
expeditionary force that landed at Newport, RI in a pre-emptive strike. Upon discovering the British Plan
through “the Culper ring” of his New York intelligence network, Washington duped the British into
believing a major assault against New York was imminent. As a result, the British abandoned the descent
on Newport and rushed back to New York where they hunkered down for an attack that never
materialized. By the time the British realized the attack would never come, the French were able to
fortify Newport successfully. Washington’s ability to rally his men was exhibited at Monmouth
Courthouse. Furthermore, Washington showed a willingness to listen to his subordinates. One instance
involved his decision to march to Yorktown. Despite the fact he wished to attack New York, Washington
reluctantly relented to the Comte de Rochanbeau’s proposal to march south toward Cornwallis at
Yorktown, where the French West Indies fleet would attempt to cut off his escape route. Washington
assented, despite the fact he believed the British navy would rout the French fleet and worried about
desertion within his own ranks of weary and unpaid soldiers. Washington also succeeded in adding
military professionalism to the Continental Army. It was this professionalism that enabled the army to
stay in the field throughout the war. Prior to 1777, the Continental Army suffered from the discrepancy
between its high spirit/enthusiasm and overconfidence in its prowess/ardor and its lack of discipline.
Such a discrepancy resulted in unreliable conduct. Washington recognized the necessity of good
sanitation/cleanliness. Soldiers in the field required more than mere strength and a righteous conviction
to fight; they needed discipline and expertise to persevere and survive between battles. Even more
difficult, perhaps, was instilling professionalism within the ranks without creating a military caste of
career soldiers that seemed contrary to ideals and principles of the republic. In addition, Washington
developed character within the ranks of his officers. Under George Washington’s guidance, along with
Baron von Steubon, military discipline, expertise, professional loyalty, regularity, and pride of
achievement increased in the Continental Army. “Washington…strove to mold the Continental Army
into a mirror image of Britain’s army. He insisted it should be ‘a respectable Army,’ not only well
organized and disciplined but also officered by ‘Gentlemen, and Men of Character’ [4].” Baron von
Steubon instructed officers in the Continental Army that they could gain the willing attachment, affection,
and obedience of their subordinates by leading by example, or endowing formal authority with moral
authority through superior service. Commanding officers were encouraged to show kindness, humanity,
affection, and concern for the welfare of the men under their rank. According to Steubon, obedience
would follow from respect earned from concern, competence, restraint, and participation in the dangers
and fatigues suffered by their subordinates. “Washington was a reasonably experienced soldier, a firm
advocate of American liberties [as well as the principle of civilian control over the military], impressive
in looks, and articulate without being flamboyant. Despite his acceptance of civilian authority,
Washington learned from experience how civilians can hamper wartime operations through excessive
micromanagement. Royster identifies George Washington as the “central figure in the army’s survival in
the American victory….[5]”
Americans depended on Washington’s virtue—they exalted his character, not his authority.
Washington deserved their permanent gratitude by publicly doing nothing to contradict and much to
confirm the ideal(s) they held him up to. Washington met the public’s desire for an inspirational general.
His battle prowess was secondary to his virtuous character. He was exemplar of the qualities that would
achieve the continent’s promised future—all he needed to do was be as virtuous as the people said he
was. For example, although he was rich, he served the public welfare than staying at home to enjoy his
independent means. In addition, although he brought great talents to the discharge of his duties, he
accepted no salary and charged no commissions. Furthermore, although he was C-in-C, he neither
indulged personal arrogance nor amassed power. Despite the apparent urgency in meeting the armies
materiel (and thus spiritual) needs, Washington demonstrated uncharacteristic patience and a “steady
demeanor.” While the words of his appeals and assessments carried tremendous weight, never did he
convey the impression that he would not still faithfully discharge his duties despite such frustrations and
setbacks. Washington would not give up his ideals, he would not demand either rewards or power equal
to his worth, and he would allow the public to share his distinction without shaming them by informing
them how far short of his character most of them fell. The public could rely on him to embody their ideals
of public service more fully than they did themselves and they could share with him the credit for
fathering their country. So long as he exemplified his countrymen’s ideals, Washington would be
permitted to continue his efforts in a post of unique honor. Royster dismisses criticisms and concerns that
Washington would either be able to use his attractive virtues and manipulate the public’s gratitude (i.e.
take advantage of his sway) by leading his men beyond victory to become a dictator who would tyrannize
the populace (let alone charges that he would even be willing to do so). Soldiers, who served the
revolutionary cause due to their patriotism (i.e. attachment to their country) obeyed their commanding
officers only because the country gave them their authority and because they were dutiful in their
discharge of the obligations that discipline placed on them. Soldiers were unlikely to follow their
commanding officers from victory to tyranny because they did not believe their commanding officers
exercised any authority that required obedience following victory.
[1] Millet and Maslowski, 70
[2] Royster, 118
[3] Royster, 185
[4] Millet and Maslowski, 59
[5] Royster, 255
Works Cited
Millet, Allan R. and Peter Maslowski. For the Common Defense: A Military History of the United States
of America. New York: Free Press, 1994.
Royster, Charles. A Revolutionary People at War: The Continental Army and American Character, 17751783. Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press, 1979.
EXIT INTERVIEW
What I Learned about George Washington
05-25-11
MILS512
Daniel Duerring
There are a number of interesting and important things I learned from my “ride” with George
Washington. First, and perhaps most importantly, I discovered the importance of examining his life, in
terms of his character, attributes, virtues, major accomplishments/contributions, etc., in our educational
institutions. Many of the biographers I encountered remonstrated about how little attention is paid to the
life and character of George Washington, while stressing the importance of learning from his
extraordinary example. Quite often, one is taught how historical figures were merely ordinary people
who faced extraordinary circumstances and either accomplished great feats, overcame tremendous odds,
embodied the period in which they lived, or shaped history in some way. The more I read about George
Washington, the more I became convinced he was extraordinary in many ways. One simply cannot
dismiss the almost universal reverence, admiration, and love he received, not just from so many of his
contemporaries, but that he continues to receive from those who have inherited the blessings his efforts
helped bestow. Despite the efforts of revisionists to deconstruct his character and reputation, Washington
still deserves to be placed in the top echelon of our national pantheon of heroes. There are countless
lessons that can be learned by studying Washington the man and soldier—an individual who is exemplary
in terms of civic duty, virtue(s), honor, and sacrifice. It would seem that his strongest attributes included
his sheer will and dogged determination, his faith, his self-discipline and control, as well as his courage,
compassion, patience, and vision (i.e. his ability to see both the smaller details and the big picture
simultaneously). These same attributes overlapped in the numerous sources I examined.
I never realized just how deep and profound Washington’s religious faith was; nor was I aware of the
extent to which he had to learn to discipline his own passions and inner motivations. The young
Washington did not represent the man, who learned how to control his intense emotions. I did not fully
grasp how his marriage, his adoption of a Fabian strategy during the Revolutionary War, his resignation
as Commander-in-Chief, and his refusal to seek a third presidential term each ran counter to his own inner
ambitions, desires, and feelings. There were numerous instances when Washington placed the interests of
his country and the cause above his own pride and reputation. I learned that “greatness” is not necessarily
defined by a military commander’s win-loss record. Washington’s greatness rested in his ability, not only
to keep the army together (the sinew or backbone of the revolutionary movement), but to transform and
develop it into a professional fighting force. The fact he was able to do this amidst so many obstacles,
hardships, and challenges is nothing short of incredible. Such ordeals would have overwhelmed or
broken lesser men. The famous Prussian military philosopher, Clausewitz, included energy as an
important leadership trait in terms of overcoming various sources of friction, inertia, and resistance when
commanding an army of human beings, especially citizen-soldiers who don’t like being commanded or
controlled or who might be more concerned about saving their own necks —this Washington certainly
possessed as the Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army. Yet another discovery I made about
Washington was the tenacity of his fighting spirit and the depth of his courage. Both during the French
and Indian War as well as America’s War for Independence, Washington’s military exploits and acts of
bravery impressed me. It was astonishing to see how even the officers under his command were shocked,
amazed and inspired by Washington’s seemingly disregard for his own safety. His presence was certainly
felt on the battlefield on numerous occasions, whether it was on Long Island, or at Princeton, Monmouth,
Germantown, etc…. It was also interesting to learn how, when, where, and why Washington became
interested in the military art and science. Overall, it was refreshing to study Washington the soldier,
rather than the statesman. Washington impressed me insofar as he devoted so much of his life to the
service of his country, even though his greatest wish was to retire from public life to manage his Mount
Vernon estate. Washington was truly a great, admirable, and honorable man.
As a leader, Washington faced many challenges dealing with the art and science of command, both in
theory and practice—in particular, command-and-control of the army under him, strategic and tactical
considerations, logistics, troop discipline, climate, even politics. To this was added a myriad of other
factors and considerations that go into military planning and execution amidst the “fog,” and
“uncertainty” of war. Washington possessed many of the key characteristics deemed essential to effective
leadership. Most of the biographers of George Washington conclude he was not made into (not born as) a
great leader, although they distinguish him, in this respect, from other great military leaders who were
groomed for command as much as they seemed destined for it. In the end, leadership is innate and
learned, it is considered an art and a science, and it involves both leadership and management.
Monmouth Courthouse
On June 18th, 1778, British forces, under General Clinton, departed the city of Philadelphia for New
York. The evacuation began at 3:00 a.m. and by 10:00 the entire British army was on the New Jersey
side of the Delaware River. General Henry B. Carrington estimates that approximately twelve miles of
baggage train accompanied the nearly 18,000 British veterans. Of the British, he writes “there was no
longer an eager search to find Washington. To make the earliest safe distance from his presence, or his
reach, was the incentive to the speediest possible travel. It was no longer the destruction of that one
principal American Army that engrossed thought and stimulated energy; but how to save the British army
itself for efficient service elsewhere [namely, the Southern Colonies].” Both Howe and Washington were
aware “of the character and extent of Clinton’s retiring column, and of the opportunity which the country
afforded for breaking it up”. On June 24th, while encamped at Allentown, General Clinton discovered
that, not only had Washington’s army crossed the Delaware, the northern army was expected to unite with
Washington. Given that this would have hazarded a “direct retreat to New York via Princeton and
Brunswick,” Clinton decided to send his baggage in advance with Lieutenant-General Knyphausen while
placing himself in command of the second division, placed under light marching order, which he took on
the Monmouth route to the sea. “Washington was quickly advised of this organic change in the British
formation and acted instantly….” Washington proceeded immediately to cross the Delaware River at
Coryell’s Ferry, approximately forty miles above Philadelphia. Washington calculated that such a
diversion meant Clinton did not wish to hazard a fight en route to New York “or some part on the coast
accessible by a British Fleet….” Carrington holds that the Battle of Monmouth was one of Washington’s
choosing, as “his army, reënforced [sic.] from the north, was not inferior in numbers; was unencumbered
with baggage, and was not exposed to attack….”10 General Lee, who appeared on the field of battle
between 7:00-8:00 a.m. on June 27th, “exercised no direction over movements [and] gave contradictory
orders when he gave any….” As a result, “brigade after brigade failed to obtain from [Lee] instructions
as to their movements, or their reactions to other brigades.” The appearance of Clinton after eight o’clock
contradicted Lee’s announcement that the “entire British army was in retreat,” and the ensuing British
attack upon “the scattered and irregular formation of the American army,” combined with the lack of
direction in the American lines, created “a general impression…that all [the American brigades] were to
retreat and simply abandon demonstration against the British army.”11 For his part, Washington’s “full
fighting capacity” was “aroused” by “the increasing cannonading before noon”. When an aide-de-camp
10
Henry B. Carrington, Gen., Washington The Soldier, (Boston: Lamson, Wolffe and Company, 1898), ebrary.com e-book,
225.
11
Ibid, 229.
returned and reported “that General Lee had ‘overtaken the British army and expected to cut off their rear
guard,’ Washington, regarding such information “as an omen of complete success,” led the vanguard of a
forced march with the soldiers under his command. Suddenly, Washington’s “animation…lost its
impulse” after “a mounted countryman rode by in fright, a wild fugitive, [and] a half-distracted musician,
fife in hand, cried ‘All’s lost!” Carrington writes “a few paces more, and over the brow of a small rise of
ground overlooking the creek and bridge toward which scattered fragments of regiments were pressing,
the bald fact needed no other appeal to [Washington] to assure him of the necessity for his immediate
presence….Officer after officer, detachment after detachment, came over the bridge,…seemingly ignorant
of the cause of retreat, only that retreat had been ordered….There was simply confusion of all organized
masses, needing but some competent will to restore them to place and duty.”12 Upon advancing to the
bridge, Washington “allowed neither officer nor man to pass him,” while delivering orders and
assignments to the officers he confronted. Each was directed “to face the enemy”. Still other officers
were sent to the rear to re-form their ranks before to reporting back for orders. “Such an hour,” attests
Carrington, “tests great captains and proves soldiers.” “In the presence of Washington,” he writes, the
soldiers “were knit to him as by bands of steel. Company after company sprang into fresh formation as if
first coming on parade.” When finally confronted with General Lee, Washington’s manner, bearing, and
tone were described by the “awe-bound” observers as “more than human”. Carrington suggests “it was as
if Liberty herself had descended to possess the form of her champion!” He continues: “all who felt his
presence bent their wills as rushes yield to the tempest,--so immediate, so irresistible was his mastery of
the occasion.” It wasn’t until Washington’s arrival that “the real battle of Monmouth had began [and] the
British forces were repulsed at every point”.13 Following the day’s fighting, the American army advanced
throughout the evening, anticipating a general attack at daybreak. Spirits were high and there existed a
high expectation for victory. For his part, Washington visited every picket. During the night, however,
General Clinton evacuated his position and reached New York on the last day of June. Carrington
concludes “the Battle of Monmouth, from first to last, was a supreme test of Washington the Soldier.”14
The historian, Gordon, says of Washington upon his reaching the battlefield: “he animated his forces by
his gallant example, and exposed his person to every danger common to the meanest soldier; so that the
12
Carrington, 231.
13
Ibid, 231-232.
14
Ibid, 237.
conduct of the soldiers in general, after recovering from the first surprise occasioned by the retreat, could
not be surpassed.”15
15
Carrington, 234.
NEWBURGH ADDRESS
The following account is based on a speech delivered by William M. Fowler, Jr., Distinguished
Professor of History University of Notre Dame, on July 20, 2006 at Mount Vernon. Washington
recognized that the war was not over despite the surrender of the British army under Lord Cornwallis on
October 19, 1781. The British were still in possession of Charleston, Savannah, and New York City, as
well as the distant northern posts of Oswego, Detroit, Michimackinac, and Niagara. In addition, the
Royal Navy still dominated the seas. Whereas Washington could muster only seven thousand effective
troops during the summer of 1782, he estimated the size of the British garrison at New York to be
approximately thirteen thousand strong. Washington intimated his fears that the victory would “produce
such a relaxation in the prosecution of the War, as will prolong the calamities of it” in a letter to
Virginia’s governor, Thomas Nelson. Following a brief visit to his home at Mount Vernon, while his
army was marching north, Washington departed for the Capital in Philadelphia to admonish the Congress
to take vigorous and effectual measures toward preparing for “an early and decisive Campaign” the
following year. He confided to Greene that his “greatest fear…[was], that Congress…may think our
work too nearly closed”. Such thought might lead the Congress to “fall into a State of Languor and
Relaxation”. While attending Congress, Washington reminded its members of the army’s distress and
urged them to support it. He further warned them the war was not over. Several states, however, rejected
the agreement, thus refusing to requisition the needed funds. Worse, Congress fell behind on its
commitment to provide current salaries. Following four months of “partying and lobbying,” Washington
appeared before the Congress on March 12, 1782, and asked leave to rejoin his army, which was camped
along the Hudson River. The members of Congress listened to his appeals, but took no action. Shortly
after his return to his troops, on May 22, 1782, Washington received a letter from Colonel Lewis Nicola,
commander of the Corps of Invalids. Lewis, who was sensitive to the sufferings of his me, as well as
“sensitized” to the blatant disregard of Congress and the states’ toward the army as an organization and
institution, believed that the war demonstrated the weaknesses of republics. He urged that a monarchy be
established according to the British model and he implied that Washington make himself king. Nicola
also warned that the army would never submit to the injustices to which it was subjected and he expressed
his belief that neither the officers nor the soldiers would disperse until the Congress redress their
grievances and fulfill its promises. Washington adamantly rejected Nicola’s suggestion, responding that
“no occurrence in the course of the War, has given [him] more painful sensations than [Nicola’s]
information of there being such ideas existing in the Army as [Nicola had] expressed.” He reminded
Nicola that he “could not have found a person to whom [his] schemes [were] more disagreeable”.
Finally, Washington reiterated his desire “to see ample justice done to the army,” but only through
“constitutional” means. Washington later received another letter from Major General James Mitchell
Barnum of Rhode Island, who described the Continental Congress as a “baseless fabric” and the citizenry
as “totally destitute of that Love of Equality which is absolutely requisite to support a democratic
Reppublick: Avarice, Jealousy & Luxury control their Feelings, & consequently, absolute monarchy, or a
military state, can alone rescue them from all the Horrors of Subjegation.” Unlike, Barnum, Washington
was hopeful and optimistic. Summer brought idleness and boredom as well. Fowler identifies this point
as a “critical juncture”. Washington wrote that “the patience and long sufferance of [the] Army are
almost exhausted”. As the summer gave way to fall, and with winter fast approaching, Washington
ordered “hutting,” as tents were no match for the winter cold. “Idleness, boredom, and growing
discontent” remained the greatest threats at Newburgh. Labor, drills, and inspections dominated the daily
routine and camp discipline began to fade. Men talked about peace and pay, both of which were “in a
disagreeable State of suspense,” wrote Washington. On the morning of January 6, 1783, Major General
Alexander McDougall, Colonel John Brooks, and Colonel Matthias Ogden arrived at the Continental
Congress to deliver a petition from the American army encamped at Newburgh, New York. The petition
was prepared in November and was signed by fourteen senior officers. They reminded the Congress that
the army has “borne all that men can bear” and they warned its members that “further experiments on
[their] patience may have fatal effects”. The officers petitioned the Congress to deliver their pay, already
in arrears, as well as to offer its assurances that the promise to pay a pension of half-pay for life to those
who served for the duration of the war two years before be honored. They were willing to accept terms
other than the half-pay for life they had been promised, such as commutation to full pay for a limited
number of years or a lump-sum payment. Privately, Brooks notified members of Congress that “the
temper of the army was such that they did not reason or deliberate coolly on consequences and therefore a
disappointment might throw them blindly into extremities.” While sympathetic to the plight of the army,
many members of Congress recognized their own impotence and the inert status of that body—the
treasury was bereft of money and the Congress lacked the authority to tax. Still others in Congress
(Hamilton, Madison, and Morris) perceived in this crisis the opportunity to advance their agenda to
strengthen the national government. These men viewed the army as a potential instrument to be used in
advancing their program. Colonel Brooks departed Philadelphia on February 8, 1783 with two letters—
one “explaining the impasse in Philadelphia” and the other addressed to Major General Henry Knox from
Gouverneur Morris, enjoining him “to press the officers to join with other public creditors” in order to
compel Congress and the states to appropriate the funds necessary to meet their obligations. George III’s
announcement on February 13th before Parliament that preliminary articles of peace had been signed
between British and American delegates added a new sense of urgency to nationalists who now feared
that peace might result in the army’s disbanding, thus eliminating the threat (and opportunity) its
existence posed to the Confederation. In a correspondence with Washington, Hamilton informed the
general that Congress, upon receiving news of the final peace, would likely disperse the army without
redressing the grievances of the soldiers and officers. Such a scenario, Hamilton warned, might compel a
disappointed army to “exceed ‘the bounds of moderation’’. He urged Washington to “guide the torrent”
as well as notified him “that many soldiers did not believe that he had espoused their cause ‘with
sufficient warmth’.” Hamilton also attempted to nudge Washington toward exploiting the army’s
influence and he implied that, if Washington proved intransigent, “General Knox…may safely be made
use of”. When it became clear that neither Washington nor Knox would be complicit in this plan, the
nationalists turned toward General Horatio Gates.16 Fowler suggests that General Gates and his staff
“lamented,” along with Colonel Walter Stewart, “that neither Washington nor Knox seemed to willing to
challenge Congress on behalf of the army.” The following day, “several officers worked to prepare a
letter to the officers at Newburgh”. In it, Major John Armstrong, Gate’s aide, who penned the letter on
behalf of “a fellow soldier,” asks their intended audience if the country in which they were defending was
“was willing to redress [their] wrongs, cherish [their] worth—and reward [their] service, or [would it
rather] trample upon [their] rights, disdain [their] cries and insult [their] distress?” He then asks “if this,
then, be [our] treatment, while the swords [we] wear are necessary for the defence [sic.] of America, what
have [we] to expect from peace when [our] voice shall sink and [our] strength dissipate by division?” The
letter asserts that “if the present moment” was not seized, “every future effort” would be “in vain”. The
letter also expressed the suspected nature of “the man who will advise more moderation and longer
forbearance”. The letter, which was delivered Monday morning, March 10th, called for a meeting the
following day, whereupon “the officers would prepare a remonstrance that would go beyond the ‘meek
language of entreating memorials’ and give Congress notice ‘the army has its alternative.’” Washington
was informed in advance “of the machinations in Philadelphia” and, in his general orders for March 11,
he “canceled the meeting that had come to his attention” and “issued his own regular invitation” to a
meeting at the “Temple of Virtue on Saturday, March 15, “to discuss ‘rational measures’”. With
hundreds of officers filed in the building, Washington made an unexpected entrance and eventually rose
to address his men; “not at the head of his troops, but as it were in opposition to them”. More than the
substance of his now famous Newburgh Address, Washington’s test of the loyalty of his men when he
16
William M. Fowler, Jr., “An American Crisis: The Newburgh Address” (speech, Mount Vernon, VA, July 20, 2006), The
Lehrman Institute—“Lehrman Institute--Essays,” http://www.lehrmaninstitute.org/lehrman/essays.html (accessed April 15,
2011). Fowler cites Washington, who, in a letter, warned Hamilton “that the ‘fatal tendency’ to involve the army in political
matters ‘would…be productive of Civil commotions and end in blood.’” He notified Hamilton that “he stood…’as Citizen and
Soldier.’” dawned his spectacles and reminded them that he had grown both “gray” and “blind” in the service of his
country, that he “was among the first who embarked in this cause of our common Country—[that he]
never left [their] side one moment,” was successful. Fowler writes, “the purity and virtue of the
American Revolution had been at stake in Newburgh. Through a long and difficult war, the Continental
army had remained loyal to the cause and its commander, and he had remained loyal to the republic. Had
he wavered at Newburgh, civilian control of the military would have been challenged, and a barrier would
have been broken impossible to repair. In that one moment,…George Washington established a principle
that has endured and that has preserved our republic, and kept it safe from internal assault, for more than
two centuries.”17
17
Fowler.
NEWBURGH ADDRESS
Meigs, Montgomery C. "Generalship: Qualities, Instincts, and Character." Parameters: U.S. Army
War College 31, no. 2(Summer2001):4.AcademicSearchPremier,EBSCOhost
http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=aph&AN=5602334&site=ehost-live
(accessed February 22, 2011).
“In one of the most poignant moments of our republic's history, George Washington's standing with the
officers of the Continental Army secured for us Americans what is unique about our revolution, the willing
submission of the military arm of the revolution to political will. Recall March of 1783. The American War
of Revolution was over. The officers of the Continental Army made up perhaps the most cohesive and most
national of institutions. The new states were now independent. There existed no system for taxation, no
federal government to speak of. There was great concern that the revolutionary experiment was doomed
even as it was being born. There was no historical example of a successful democracy that our founding
fathers could follow. Nationalists argued for a military coup. Many of a more republican mind argued for
restraint. Washington was caught in the middle of this debate and pressured from both sides. He decided
not to intervene. The Army's officers became restive, seditious, and called a secret meeting. Washington at
first refused to attend, but then did so unannounced, surprising those in the hall. He addressed the officers,
endorsing moderation. But the officers remained angry, unsettled, and ill-disposed toward his message.
Remember, these were men who had served with Washington, many since Brooklyn and the reverses that
led to Trenton. They had weathered Valley Forge and a number of defeats and near-victories that finally
had culminated at Yorktown. They had risked the hangman's noose. They had followed Washington through
seven years of tough soldiering during which the outcome remained always in doubt. Finally, Washington
remembered a letter he was carrying from a representative in the Congress and decided to read it to the
audience to buttress his argument. He pulled out the letter and stared at it for a moment, seemingly
uncomprehendingly. Then he took from his pocket a pair of eyeglasses most of the officers had never seen
him use. He said simply, "Gentlemen, you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown
gray but almost blind in the service of my country."[16] This simple human gesture carried the day and
shifted the mood of the officers present. The Continental Army disbanded and went home, no longer a
threat to the evolution of a republican government it had fought so hard to foster. There is no question that
Washington's Newburgh Address and his stand against any usurpation of the government by the officers of
the Continental Army was a crucial moment in our history, as well as a founding precept of our citizen
Army. It was Washington's human touch and the hard-won emotional loyalty of his officers that made his
intervention effective.”
. Washington’s successful efforts in stopping the Newburgh Conspiracy likely saved the infant country.
More than the content of the address he delivered to his officers as the Temple on March 3, 1783,
Washington’s factual remarks that he grew both gray and blind in the service of his men effectively
squashed the conspiracy. Thomas Fleming again speculates: “If [Washington] had failed to change the
army’s mind, the Revolution could have unraveled. The army might have marched on Congress to dictate
terms at the point of a gun.” Furthermore, Fleming argues, the likely refusal of the States to approve such
a deal and the army’s subsequent attempt(s) to force compliance likely would have resulted in civil war
and the potential collapse of the already shaky confederation—a strong temptation for the British, still
present in New York, to get back in the game.
CIVILIAN CONTROL OVER THE MILITARY
The principle of civilian control over the military was established on an even firmer foundation after
Washington resigned his commission as Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army before the
members of the Continental Congress in the Annapolis State House on December 23, 1783. Washington
willingly submitted to Congressional control despite the fact that his own army “had been discharged and
sent home, unpaid, by a bankrupt Congress—without a victory parade or even a statement of thanks for
their years of sacrifices and sufferings.” That same Congress “had waged a vitriolic smear campaign
against the soldiers—especially the officers, because they supposedly demanded too much money for
back pay and pensions,” and was held in contempt and derided throughout the nation. Washington
relinquished his power amidst offers and suggestions that he “summarily dismiss Congress and rule as an
uncrowned king, under the title of President.” Even if he refused to consider such an idea, Washington
could easily have destroyed “whatever shreds of legitimacy the politicians had left” if he “appear[ed]
before Congress and issue[ed] a scathing denunciation of their cowardly flight from Philadelphia [when a
few hundred unpaid soldiers in the city’s garrison surrounded the Pennsylvania State House demanding
back pay] and their ingratitude to his soldiers.”18 Instead, Washington drew a resignation speech from his
coat pocket and emotionally announced “The great events on which my resignation depended having at
length taken place, I now have the honor of…presenting myself before [Congress] to surrender into their
hands the trust committed to me, and to claim the indulgence of retiring from the service of my
country….Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theater of action and bidding
farewell to this august body under whom I have long acted, I here offer my commission and take leave of
all the employments of public life.” Washington then handed a parchment copy of his appointment as
commander in chief that he had drawn from his coat to the President of the Congress, Thomas Mifflin.
According to Thomas Fleming, “this was—is—the most important moment in American history.”
Fleming writes “by this visible, incontrovertible act, Washington did more to affirm America’s
government of the people than a thousand declarations by legislatures and treatises by philosophers.”
Thomas Jefferson, who personally observed this momentous event as a delegate from Virginia, weighed
its historical significance: “The moderation…of a single character probably prevented this revolution
from being closed, as most others have been, by a subversion of that liberty it was intended to establish.”
Furthermore, holds Fleming, Washington’s resignation “restored America’s battered prestige…in
Europe”.19
18
Thomas Fleming. "Washington's Gift." Wall Street Journal, December 24, 2007, Eastern
Edition, http://www.proquest.com.ezproxy2.apus.edu/ (accessed May 11, 2011).
19
Ibid.