Washington - A Life Part 9

Washington faced double jeopardy from the debased currency. Besides placing goods beyond the budget of his quartermasters, it was whittling away his personal fortune. Like many rich planters, Washington had large loans outstanding in Virginia that were being repaid in debased currency. As he complained to his brother-in-law, "I am now receiving a shilling in the pound in discharge of bonds which ought to have been paid me and would have been realized before I left Virginia, but for my indulgence to the debtors."49 Washington estimated that personal losses occasioned by his absence from home had swollen to ten thousand pounds. Further embittering him was the selfish behavior of Jacky Custis, who stalled in settling debts to him so he could repay in cheaper currency. Washington, finally losing his temper, scolded his stepson: "You might as well attempt to pay me in old newspapers and almanacs, with which I can purchase nothing." Washington estimated that personal losses occasioned by his absence from home had swollen to ten thousand pounds. Further embittering him was the selfish behavior of Jacky Custis, who stalled in settling debts to him so he could repay in cheaper currency. Washington, finally losing his temper, scolded his stepson: "You might as well attempt to pay me in old newspapers and almanacs, with which I can purchase nothing."50 For political reasons, Washington accepted payment for land in Continental currency, so he wouldn't be seen as questioning American credit, but by the summer of 1779 he could no longer afford these ma.s.sive losses and discontinued the practice. For political reasons, Washington accepted payment for land in Continental currency, so he wouldn't be seen as questioning American credit, but by the summer of 1779 he could no longer afford these ma.s.sive losses and discontinued the practice.

The previous winter Washington had been sufficiently confident of his troops to risk a six-week stay in Philadelphia, but he now felt compelled to stick close to his restive men, "to stem a torrent which seems ready to overwhelm us."51 Reports from New York told of mutinous sentiments brewing among the militia for want of food, and Washington feared the contagion might spread to New Jersey. If Sir Henry Clinton invaded Morristown, the Continental Army would be easy prey. Clinton "is not ignorant of the smallness of our numbers," Washington alerted New Jersey governor Livingston. "He cannot be insensible of the evils he would bring upon us by dislodging us from our winter quarters." Reports from New York told of mutinous sentiments brewing among the militia for want of food, and Washington feared the contagion might spread to New Jersey. If Sir Henry Clinton invaded Morristown, the Continental Army would be easy prey. Clinton "is not ignorant of the smallness of our numbers," Washington alerted New Jersey governor Livingston. "He cannot be insensible of the evils he would bring upon us by dislodging us from our winter quarters."52 In mid-December he informed Congress that his army had gone for days without bread, making its prospects "infinitely worse than they have been at any period of the war and . . . unless some expedient can be instantly adopted, a dissolution of the army for want of subsistence is unavoidable." In mid-December he informed Congress that his army had gone for days without bread, making its prospects "infinitely worse than they have been at any period of the war and . . . unless some expedient can be instantly adopted, a dissolution of the army for want of subsistence is unavoidable."53 For Washington, it was one crisis too many, straining already taut nerves. Worried that his army would simply disintegrate, he shed his stoic composure, and people began to gossip about his sulky moods. Nathanael Greene told Jeremiah Wadsworth, the commissary general, that Washington was in a "state [of] distress" and was blaming "everybody, both innocent and guilty." For Washington, it was one crisis too many, straining already taut nerves. Worried that his army would simply disintegrate, he shed his stoic composure, and people began to gossip about his sulky moods. Nathanael Greene told Jeremiah Wadsworth, the commissary general, that Washington was in a "state [of] distress" and was blaming "everybody, both innocent and guilty."54 As in previous winters, Washington was appalled by the lack of patriotism displayed by private citizens. He did not want to imitate British precedent and force nearby residents to house officers, but voluntary offers were not forthcoming. He reprimanded men who plundered food or livestock from local farms and warned his soldiers that "a night scarcely pa.s.ses without gangs of soldiers going out of camp and committing every species of robbery, depredation, and the grossest personal insults. This conduct is intolerable and a disgrace to the army." 55 On the other hand, he privately confessed that he felt powerless to stop this marauding.

Then on January 2, 1780, thick snow began to descend on Morristown, accompanied by fierce winds, and continued steadily for four days. It was a blizzard of such historic proportions, said James Thacher, that "no man could endure its violence many minutes without danger of his life."56 Four feet of snow blanketed the winter camp and drifted to six feet in many places, sealing off the army from incoming supplies and compounding the misery of men shivering in their bunks. Before the winter was through, the Morristown encampment would be pounded by a record twenty-eight snowfalls. It would qualify as one of the most frigid winters on record, so severe that New York Bay crusted over with ice thick enough for the British to wheel cannon across it. Because the ice formed land bridges, Washington meditated a surprise attack on the British garrison at Staten Island. The plan was for 2,500 men under Lord Stirling to cross over from New Jersey, destroy British supplies, and carry off sheep and cattle. Washington, who must have dreamed of reliving the Delaware crossing on Christmas Night 1776, grew so enamored of this plan that he worried the cold snap would end, thawing the ice. The plan was shelved when the British picked up intelligence about it, eliminating the element of surprise. Washington promptly confiscated the caps and mittens issued to men who were to conduct the raid. The British were cooking up their own surprises. In February a British raiding party of three hundred men on horseback crept up stealthily on Morristown in an apparent plot to kidnap Washington. When they couldn't traverse the deep snow, they turned back and abandoned the plan. Four feet of snow blanketed the winter camp and drifted to six feet in many places, sealing off the army from incoming supplies and compounding the misery of men shivering in their bunks. Before the winter was through, the Morristown encampment would be pounded by a record twenty-eight snowfalls. It would qualify as one of the most frigid winters on record, so severe that New York Bay crusted over with ice thick enough for the British to wheel cannon across it. Because the ice formed land bridges, Washington meditated a surprise attack on the British garrison at Staten Island. The plan was for 2,500 men under Lord Stirling to cross over from New Jersey, destroy British supplies, and carry off sheep and cattle. Washington, who must have dreamed of reliving the Delaware crossing on Christmas Night 1776, grew so enamored of this plan that he worried the cold snap would end, thawing the ice. The plan was shelved when the British picked up intelligence about it, eliminating the element of surprise. Washington promptly confiscated the caps and mittens issued to men who were to conduct the raid. The British were cooking up their own surprises. In February a British raiding party of three hundred men on horseback crept up stealthily on Morristown in an apparent plot to kidnap Washington. When they couldn't traverse the deep snow, they turned back and abandoned the plan.

As a howling blizzard swirled around the Ford mansion, Washington filed a dreary report with Congress: "Many of the [men] have been four or five days without meat entirely and short of bread and none but on very scanty supplies."57 Horror stories abounded of ill-clad men gnawing tree bark or cooking shoes or dining on pet dogs. Washington said his men were eating every kind of horse food but hay. As at Valley Forge, they were starving in the midst of fertile farming country, adding an extra dimension of tragic gloom to their suffering. As Greene lamented, "A country overflowing with plenty are now suffering an army, employed for the defense of everything that is dear and valuable, to perish for want of food." Horror stories abounded of ill-clad men gnawing tree bark or cooking shoes or dining on pet dogs. Washington said his men were eating every kind of horse food but hay. As at Valley Forge, they were starving in the midst of fertile farming country, adding an extra dimension of tragic gloom to their suffering. As Greene lamented, "A country overflowing with plenty are now suffering an army, employed for the defense of everything that is dear and valuable, to perish for want of food."58 Even forced requisitions didn't alleviate the abominable situation. As late as April 12 Washington bewailed the perilous scarcity of food: "We have not at this day one ounce of meat, fresh or salt, in the magazine," and he didn't know of any carts loaded with meat rolling toward Morristown. Even forced requisitions didn't alleviate the abominable situation. As late as April 12 Washington bewailed the perilous scarcity of food: "We have not at this day one ounce of meat, fresh or salt, in the magazine," and he didn't know of any carts loaded with meat rolling toward Morristown.59 Further aggravating matters was the fact that his army hadn't been paid in months. Alexander Hamilton, never one to shy away from strong opinions, probably spoke for many soldiers when he wrote, "We begin to hate the country for its neglect of us." Further aggravating matters was the fact that his army hadn't been paid in months. Alexander Hamilton, never one to shy away from strong opinions, probably spoke for many soldiers when he wrote, "We begin to hate the country for its neglect of us."60 The winter wasn't a complete loss for Hamilton, who met and fell in love with his future wife, Elizabeth Schuyler, the daughter of General Schuyler. The young woman never forgot Martha Washington's kindness: "She was quite short: a plump little woman with dark brown eyes, her hair a little frosty, and very plainly dressed for such a grand lady as I considered her . . . She was always my ideal of a true woman." The winter wasn't a complete loss for Hamilton, who met and fell in love with his future wife, Elizabeth Schuyler, the daughter of General Schuyler. The young woman never forgot Martha Washington's kindness: "She was quite short: a plump little woman with dark brown eyes, her hair a little frosty, and very plainly dressed for such a grand lady as I considered her . . . She was always my ideal of a true woman."61 The war continued to serve as Washington's political schoolroom. Once again a harrowing winter forced him to think a.n.a.lytically about the nation's ills. On both the civilian and the military side of the conflict, he condemned slipshod, amateurish methods. America needed professional soldiers instead of men on short enlistments, just as it needed congressmen who stayed in office long enough to gain experience. Most of all Americans had to conquer their excessive attachment to state sovereignty. "Certain I am," Washington told Joseph Jones, a delegate from Virginia, "that unless Congress speaks in a more decisive tone, unless they are vested with powers by the several states competent to the great purposes of war . . . our cause is lost."62 "I see one head gradually changing into thirteen," he confessed to Jones. "I see one army branching into thirteen and, instead of looking up to Congress as the supreme controlling power of the United States, [they] are considering themselves as dependent on their respective states." "I see one head gradually changing into thirteen," he confessed to Jones. "I see one army branching into thirteen and, instead of looking up to Congress as the supreme controlling power of the United States, [they] are considering themselves as dependent on their respective states."63 Washington viewed the restoration of American credit as the country's foremost political need, and he supported loans and heavy taxation to attain it. While fighting Great Britain, he pondered the source of its military power and found the answer in public credit, which gave the enemy inexhaustible resources. "In modern wars," he told Joseph Reed, "the longest purse must chiefly determine the event," and he feared that England, with a well-funded debt, would triumph over America with its chaotic finances and depleted coffers. "Though the [British] government is deeply in debt and of course poor, the nation is rich and their riches afford a fund which will not be easily exhausted. Besides, their system of public credit is such that it is capable of greater exertions than that of any other nation."64 This letter prefigures the Hamiltonian program that would distinguish Washington's economic policy as president. It took courage for Washington, instead of simply demonizing Great Britain, to study the secrets of its strength. Throughout the war, he believed that an American victory would have been a foregone conclusion if the country had enjoyed a strong Congress, a sound currency, stable finances, and an enduring army. Not surprisingly, many other officers in the Continental Army became committed nationalists and adherents of a robust central government. One virtue of a war that dragged on for so many years was that it gave the patriots a long gestation period in which to work out the rudiments of a federal government, financial mechanisms, diplomatic alliances, and other elements of a modern nation-state. This letter prefigures the Hamiltonian program that would distinguish Washington's economic policy as president. It took courage for Washington, instead of simply demonizing Great Britain, to study the secrets of its strength. Throughout the war, he believed that an American victory would have been a foregone conclusion if the country had enjoyed a strong Congress, a sound currency, stable finances, and an enduring army. Not surprisingly, many other officers in the Continental Army became committed nationalists and adherents of a robust central government. One virtue of a war that dragged on for so many years was that it gave the patriots a long gestation period in which to work out the rudiments of a federal government, financial mechanisms, diplomatic alliances, and other elements of a modern nation-state.

The hardship of the Morristown winter persisted well into the spring. On May 25 two mutinous regiments of the Connecticut Line, defying Washington's orders, burst from their huts at dusk, flashing weapons, and declared they would either return home or confront local farmers to "gain subsistence at the point of the bayonet." 65 65 These men, not having been paid in five months, saw no relief in sight. The officers calmed them down without further incident, but they were no less distraught than their men. Instead of feeling resentful toward his rebellious troops, Washington directed his anger at apathetic citizens who permitted this deplorable state. "The men have borne their distress with a firmness and patience never exceeded . . . but there are certain bounds beyond which it is impossible for human nature to go," Washington warned Congress. These men, not having been paid in five months, saw no relief in sight. The officers calmed them down without further incident, but they were no less distraught than their men. Instead of feeling resentful toward his rebellious troops, Washington directed his anger at apathetic citizens who permitted this deplorable state. "The men have borne their distress with a firmness and patience never exceeded . . . but there are certain bounds beyond which it is impossible for human nature to go," Washington warned Congress.66 In coping with this high-pressure situation, Washington receded deeper into himself, as if afraid to voice his true feelings aloud, lest it demoralize his men. "The great man is confounded at his situation," Greene reported to Joseph Reed, "but appears to be reserved and silent."67 Martha Washington, who stayed in Morristown until June, told her brother-in-law that "the poor General was so unhappy that it distressed me exceedingly." Martha Washington, who stayed in Morristown until June, told her brother-in-law that "the poor General was so unhappy that it distressed me exceedingly."68 At times Washington pretended to a deeper philosophic serenity than he could honestly claim. "The prospect, my dear Baron, is gloomy and the storm thickens," he told Steuben, then went on to say, "I have been so inured to difficulties in the course of this contest that I have learned to look on them with more tranquillity than formerly." At times Washington pretended to a deeper philosophic serenity than he could honestly claim. "The prospect, my dear Baron, is gloomy and the storm thickens," he told Steuben, then went on to say, "I have been so inured to difficulties in the course of this contest that I have learned to look on them with more tranquillity than formerly."69 In a revealing letter to Robert Morris that May, Washington noted, with restrained jollity, that in the absence of wine, he had been forced to subst.i.tute grog made from New England rum and drink it from a wooden bowl. Then he made a comment that suggested how his wartime experience had dampened his general experience of things. When his "public duty" ended, he told Morris, "I may be incapable of . . . social enjoyments." In a revealing letter to Robert Morris that May, Washington noted, with restrained jollity, that in the absence of wine, he had been forced to subst.i.tute grog made from New England rum and drink it from a wooden bowl. Then he made a comment that suggested how his wartime experience had dampened his general experience of things. When his "public duty" ended, he told Morris, "I may be incapable of . . . social enjoyments."70 What lifted Washington from the worst depths of dejection was the extraordinary heroism of his army, which had been reduced to eight thousand men, one-third still unfit for duty. Looking back upon the ghastly conditions of that winter, he found the army's survival almost beyond belief. To brother Jack, he expressed amazement: "that an army reduced almost to nothing (by the expiration of short enlistments) should sometimes be five or six days together without bread, then as many without meat, and once or twice two or three without either; that the same army should have had numbers of men in it with scarcely clothes enough to cover their nakedness and a full fourth of it without even the shadow of a blanket, severe as the winter was, and that men under these circ.u.mstances were held together, is hardly within the bounds of credibility, but is nevertheless true."71

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

The Traitor IN THE SPRING OF 1780 Washington's most immediate concern was the uncertain fate of the threatened American garrison in Charleston, South Carolina. Sir Henry Clinton and Lord Cornwallis had set sail with a large flotilla from New York and besieged Charleston as the main theater of war shifted irreversibly to the South. The American force was commanded by Major General Benjamin Lincoln, a husky former farmer from Ma.s.sachusetts. Lincoln was popular and widely respected, and Washington credited him with being "an active, spirited, sensible man."1 The commander in chief remained a far-off observer of the Charleston deadlock, however, since Congress and the Board of War had deprived him of jurisdiction over the southern department, and he didn't care to quarrel with this blatantly political decision. The commander in chief remained a far-off observer of the Charleston deadlock, however, since Congress and the Board of War had deprived him of jurisdiction over the southern department, and he didn't care to quarrel with this blatantly political decision.

Queasily aware of what the loss of a major seaport would mean, Washington prophesied that the fall of Charleston would probably "involve the most calamitous consequences to the whole state of South Carolina, and even perhaps beyond it."2 At the very least it would expose the Carolinas to merciless British raids. By ma.s.sing his men in the coastal city, Lincoln had left the interior pretty much defenseless. "It is putting much to the hazard," Washington confided to Steuben. "I have the greatest reliance on General Lincoln's prudence, but I cannot forbear dreading the event." At the very least it would expose the Carolinas to merciless British raids. By ma.s.sing his men in the coastal city, Lincoln had left the interior pretty much defenseless. "It is putting much to the hazard," Washington confided to Steuben. "I have the greatest reliance on General Lincoln's prudence, but I cannot forbear dreading the event."3 Washington's dread was not misplaced. On May 12, 1780, Charleston capitulated to the British, and 2,571 Continental soldiers, 343 artillery pieces, and almost 6,000 muskets fell into enemy hands. Under the arcane rituals of eighteenth-century warfare, defeated forces were typically allowed to surrender with dignity and march out with their colors flying proudly. To shame the Americans, the British forbade them this customary honor, forcing them to lay down their arms in humiliated silence. The defeated soldiers then faced the unpleasant choice of either becoming prisoners of war or returning home with a solemn vow to refrain from further fighting, reverting to loyal British subjects. Washington's dread was not misplaced. On May 12, 1780, Charleston capitulated to the British, and 2,571 Continental soldiers, 343 artillery pieces, and almost 6,000 muskets fell into enemy hands. Under the arcane rituals of eighteenth-century warfare, defeated forces were typically allowed to surrender with dignity and march out with their colors flying proudly. To shame the Americans, the British forbade them this customary honor, forcing them to lay down their arms in humiliated silence. The defeated soldiers then faced the unpleasant choice of either becoming prisoners of war or returning home with a solemn vow to refrain from further fighting, reverting to loyal British subjects.

As he reflected on this devastating blow, Washington sounded alternately bitter and philosophical. He believed the British had expertly timed their campaign to exploit his army's weakness at Morristown and knew this resounding victory would " give spirit to our enemies."4 He also suspected the British would use Charleston as a springboard to launch incursions into the Carolinas and Virginia. True to his prediction, Clinton, while steering a large portion of his forces back to New York, left Cornwallis with a sizable force to terrorize the South. At the same time Washington wondered whether the British had now stretched themselves too thin, forcing them to pay a steep price in blood and treasure to maintain this faraway outpost. He also suspected the British would use Charleston as a springboard to launch incursions into the Carolinas and Virginia. True to his prediction, Clinton, while steering a large portion of his forces back to New York, left Cornwallis with a sizable force to terrorize the South. At the same time Washington wondered whether the British had now stretched themselves too thin, forcing them to pay a steep price in blood and treasure to maintain this faraway outpost.

With the American treasury empty, Washington could not contemplate a potent offensive campaign without French largesse. That winter the French had decided to send an enormous expeditionary force to America, commanded by Jean-Baptiste Donatien de Vimeur, the Count de Rochambeau. It was the first time the French had supplemented a fleet with a ma.s.sive army. France had elevated the ill.u.s.trious Rochambeau to the lofty rank of lieutenant general but, in a diplomatic concession to American sensibilities, agreed that he would be placed, at least nominally, under Washington's orders. The French fleet under the Chevalier de Ternay would also be subject to Washington's control, yet after his frustrations with the mercurial d'Estaing, Washington entertained no illusions about exercising any real influence.

The person a.s.signed to herald this impending force was a natural choice for the job. In early March Lafayette set sail for America, ready to resume his post as a major general and act as intermediary between Washington and Rochambeau. As soon as he disembarked in Ma.s.sachusetts in late April, Lafayette, never bashful about his starring role in the American drama, rushed off a typically histrionic letter to Washington that throbbed with boyish excitement: "Here I am, my dear general, and in the midst of the joy I feel in finding myself again one of your loving soldiers . . . I have affairs of the utmost importance which I should at first communicate to you alone."5 Washington grew emotional as he read the message. Then on May 10 the beaming author himself strode into his presence, and the two men eagerly clasped each other. Recounting this sentimental reunion, Lafayette wrote that Washington's "eyes filled with tears of joy . . . a certain proof of a truly paternal love." Washington grew emotional as he read the message. Then on May 10 the beaming author himself strode into his presence, and the two men eagerly clasped each other. Recounting this sentimental reunion, Lafayette wrote that Washington's "eyes filled with tears of joy . . . a certain proof of a truly paternal love."6 Washington lost no time in lobbying Lafayette for a Franco-American invasion of New York, which would possess the collateral advantage of lessening British pressure on the southern states. Washington lost no time in lobbying Lafayette for a Franco-American invasion of New York, which would possess the collateral advantage of lessening British pressure on the southern states.

Uplifted by the splendid news from France, Washington pressed Congress for an expanded army of at least twenty thousand Continental troops to cooperate with their ally. As a matter of both pride and policy, Washington didn't want the stylish French soldiers to patronize his men in their tattered clothing, and he appealed to Congress to rectify the matter. His army had come to a standstill, lacking money and supplies. "For the troops to be without clothing at any time is highly injurious to the service and distressing to our feelings. But the want will be more peculiarly mortifying when they come to act with those of our allies."7 In early July, with the arrival of the French fleet imminent, Washington was chagrined by the states' failure to muster new troops or even keep him posted on their plans. He again blamed the bugaboo of a permanent military force-the "fatal jealousy . . . of a standing army"-for the shocking failure to b.u.t.tress his army. In early July, with the arrival of the French fleet imminent, Washington was chagrined by the states' failure to muster new troops or even keep him posted on their plans. He again blamed the bugaboo of a permanent military force-the "fatal jealousy . . . of a standing army"-for the shocking failure to b.u.t.tress his army.8 "One half the year is spent in getting troops into the field," Washington complained to his brother Samuel, "the other half is lost in discharging them from their limited service." "One half the year is spent in getting troops into the field," Washington complained to his brother Samuel, "the other half is lost in discharging them from their limited service."9 When the French fleet arrived in Newport on July 10, it proved almost anticlimactic. Only five thousand soldiers, it turned out, had made the crossing, and a significant fraction were unfit for service. No sooner did Washington learn of the French dropping anchor than he received dreadful tidings from New York: Rear Admiral Thomas Graves had arrived in the harbor with a British fleet of comparable size. Washington dispatched Lafayette to confer with Rochambeau and Ternay, introducing him to the French officers as "a friend from whom I conceal nothing . . . I entreat you to receive whatever he shall tell you as coming from me."10 In a.s.signing Lafayette as his go-between, Washington committed a terrible gaffe that betrayed his provinciality. However blue-blooded Lafayette was in social terms, he had been only a captain in the French reserve and was much too low in the military hierarchy to parley with a French lieutenant general with decades of service. Still worse, Lafayette had tried to w.a.n.gle the very a.s.signment Rochambeau now held. Undeterred, Lafayette poured out flattery so liberally that Rochambeau pleaded with him to stop: "I embrace you, my dear Marquis, most heartily, and don't make me any more compliments, I beg of you." In a.s.signing Lafayette as his go-between, Washington committed a terrible gaffe that betrayed his provinciality. However blue-blooded Lafayette was in social terms, he had been only a captain in the French reserve and was much too low in the military hierarchy to parley with a French lieutenant general with decades of service. Still worse, Lafayette had tried to w.a.n.gle the very a.s.signment Rochambeau now held. Undeterred, Lafayette poured out flattery so liberally that Rochambeau pleaded with him to stop: "I embrace you, my dear Marquis, most heartily, and don't make me any more compliments, I beg of you."11 Although Washington had resurrected his plan to besiege New York, Lafayette could not budge Rochambeau and Ternay from their resolve to wait for more French troops before setting their men in motion. The French balked at relying on their American allies. Rochambeau was secretly appalled at the minute size of Washington's army and the bankruptcy of American credit. "Send us troops, ships, and money," he wrote home, "but do not depend on these people nor upon their means; they have neither money nor credit; their means of resistance are only momentary and called forth when they are attacked in their own homes."12 Privately he mocked Washington's plan to attack New York as absurd, given the beggarly state of American finances, and blamed Lafayette for abetting Washington's unrealistic fantasies. The French general would be two-faced in his relationship with Washington, pretending to credit his ideas, then doing exactly as he pleased. For political reasons, both sides subscribed to the polite fiction that Washington was in charge, but another year elapsed before the alliance with France bore fruit in a major joint military operation. Privately he mocked Washington's plan to attack New York as absurd, given the beggarly state of American finances, and blamed Lafayette for abetting Washington's unrealistic fantasies. The French general would be two-faced in his relationship with Washington, pretending to credit his ideas, then doing exactly as he pleased. For political reasons, both sides subscribed to the polite fiction that Washington was in charge, but another year elapsed before the alliance with France bore fruit in a major joint military operation.

IN THE WAKE of the aborted "Conway Cabal," George Washington had remained unfailingly polite to Horatio Gates, even though he thought the latter still intrigued against him. But his courtesy failed to mollify his implacable foe. In spring 1779 Gates protested to John Jay that Washington deliberately kept him in the dark, which led Washington, in turn, to pen an acerbic note to Jay, relating how he had sent Gates no fewer than forty letters in the last seven months of 1778. "I think it will be acknowledged," observed Washington tartly, "that the correspondence was frequent enough during that period."13 Far from snubbing him, Washington noted, "I made a point of treating Gen[era]l Gates with all the attention and cordiality in my power, as well from a sincere desire of harmony as from an unwillingness to give any cause of triumph to our enemies." Far from snubbing him, Washington noted, "I made a point of treating Gen[era]l Gates with all the attention and cordiality in my power, as well from a sincere desire of harmony as from an unwillingness to give any cause of triumph to our enemies."14 After the British captured Charleston, Gates was appointed to command the southern department of the army, and Washington refrained from comment so as not to be accused of meddling from personal pique. If Washington quietly rooted for Gates's comeuppance, the British delivered it in shattering form near Camden, South Carolina, on August 16, 1780. Gates deployed a force of nearly four thousand men, considerably bigger than the force marshaled by Cornwallis, but many were callow militia. Determined British troops smashed through the American lines and sent men flying in terror. Only the detachment under General Johann de Kalb tried to withstand the frenzied onslaught. The British cavalry under Colonel Banastre Tarleton-nicknamed "b.l.o.o.d.y Tarleton" and "The Butcher" for his take-no-prisoners approach-slashed at Kalb's helpless men, while Kalb himself was bludgeoned to death with bayonets and rifle b.u.t.ts. Educated at Oxford, from a wealthy family, the young Tarleton was a beefy, redheaded man who was brash and c.o.c.ky about his exploits on and off the battlefield. "Tarleton boasts of having butchered more men and lain with more women than anybody else in the army," Horace Walpole reported.15 Having lost two fingers in battle, he delighted in waving his truncated hand and shouting, "These gave I for King and country!" Having lost two fingers in battle, he delighted in waving his truncated hand and shouting, "These gave I for King and country!"16 At Camden, Tarleton's men did their deadly work so efficiently that nine hundred Americans were slain and a thousand taken prisoner. At Camden, Tarleton's men did their deadly work so efficiently that nine hundred Americans were slain and a thousand taken prisoner.

The debacle knocked Gates off his perch, especially after the terror-stricken general scampered away on horseback and raced 180 miles before mustering the equanimity to report to Congress. Washington, who had an unerring knack for letting his enemies dig their own graves, was tight-lipped about the defeat. Still, his loyal aides heaped scorn on the discredited Gates, who became the laughingstock of Washington's staff. "Was there ever an instance of a general running away, as Gates has done, from his whole army?" Alexander Hamilton whooped with glee. "One hundred and eighty miles in three days and a half. It does admirable credit to the activity of a man at his time of life."17 With the American defeat, Georgia and the Carolinas fell under British sway, making Virginia more vulnerable to invasion. For the moment, Lord Cornwallis looked invincible. Drawing the moral for Congress, Washington sidestepped Gates's cowardice to concentrate on the militia's amateurish performance. " With the American defeat, Georgia and the Carolinas fell under British sway, making Virginia more vulnerable to invasion. For the moment, Lord Cornwallis looked invincible. Drawing the moral for Congress, Washington sidestepped Gates's cowardice to concentrate on the militia's amateurish performance. "No militia will ever acquire the habits necessary to resist a regular force . . . The firmness requisite for the real business of fighting is only to be attained by a constant course of discipline and service." will ever acquire the habits necessary to resist a regular force . . . The firmness requisite for the real business of fighting is only to be attained by a constant course of discipline and service."18 After the Camden battle, Congress relieved a chastened Gates of his command and launched an inquest into his ignominious behavior. Gates had been the last serious rival left to Washington, whose supremacy now stood unchallenged. Gates's downfall paved the way for the return to power of General Nathanael Greene, who yearned to get back to the battlefield. He had labored successfully at the thankless job of quartermaster general and was fully rehabilitated from the disgrace of Fort Washington. Washington praised Greene for introducing both "method and system" to army supplies and reposed more confidence in him than in any other general.19 Despite Washington's patronage, however, Greene could be an anxious, insecure man, very sensitive to slights. After the Battle of Brandywine, he had licked his wounds when Washington didn't single out for praise his division, which had included a Virginia brigade under General Weedon. "You, sir, are considered my favorite officer," Washington told him candidly. "Weedon's brigade, like myself, are Virginians. Should I applaud them for their achievement under your command, I shall be charged with partiality." 20 Despite Washington's patronage, however, Greene could be an anxious, insecure man, very sensitive to slights. After the Battle of Brandywine, he had licked his wounds when Washington didn't single out for praise his division, which had included a Virginia brigade under General Weedon. "You, sir, are considered my favorite officer," Washington told him candidly. "Weedon's brigade, like myself, are Virginians. Should I applaud them for their achievement under your command, I shall be charged with partiality." 20 Greene often experienced Washington as a difficult, caviling boss, which was hard for him as he needed periodic hand-holding and rea.s.surance. In 1778 Greene wrote a self-pitying letter to Washington that almost begged for praise: "As I came into the Quartermaster's department with reluctance, so I shall leave it with pleasure. Your influence brought me in and the want of your approbation will induce me to go out."21 However brusque he could be to his colleagues, Washington was also finely responsive to their psychological needs. He replied to Greene's letter: "But let me beseech you, my dear Sir, not to harbor any distrusts of my friendship or conceive that I mean to wound the feelings of a person whom I greatly esteem and regard." However brusque he could be to his colleagues, Washington was also finely responsive to their psychological needs. He replied to Greene's letter: "But let me beseech you, my dear Sir, not to harbor any distrusts of my friendship or conceive that I mean to wound the feelings of a person whom I greatly esteem and regard."22 In removing Gates from his command, Congress certified Washington's consolidation of power by ceding to him the choice of a successor. Always sure-handed in dealing with Congress, he decided to "nominate" Nathanael Greene for the southern command instead of choosing him outright, and Congress confirmed this superb choice on October 14, 1780. The story is sometimes told that Greene initially rejected the demanding post. "Knox is the man for this difficult undertaking," he told Washington. "All obstacles vanish before him. His resources are infinite." "True," Washington retorted slyly, "and therefore I cannot part with him."23 Owing to the huge British presence in New York, Washington didn't think he could spare many men for the southern campaign. In giving Greene instructions, he revealed his own remoteness from the southern theater: "Uninformed as I am of the enemy's force in that quarter, of our own, or of the resources which it will be in your power to command . . . I can give you no particular instructions, but must leave you to govern yourself entirely."24 When Caty Greene expressed concern about her husband being sent south, Washington made the magnanimous offer to serve as her post office and relay messages to her husband. "If you will entrust your letters to my care," he told her, "they shall have the same attention paid to them as my own." When Caty Greene expressed concern about her husband being sent south, Washington made the magnanimous offer to serve as her post office and relay messages to her husband. "If you will entrust your letters to my care," he told her, "they shall have the same attention paid to them as my own."25

AS THE END OF SUMMER APPROACHED, it seemed more than a little peculiar that Washington still hadn't set eyes on the Count de Rochambeau and the Chevalier de Ternay. The simple truth was that he feared the American army might fall apart in his absence and was too embarra.s.sed by its frightful shape to chance an encounter with the French. Aside from more men, he estimated that he needed five thousand muskets and two hundred tons of gunpowder to field a viable force. When Lafayette informed him of Rochambeau's express wish to meet him, Washington owned up to the problem: "With respect to the Count's desire of a personal interview with me, you are sensible, my dear Marquis, that there is nothing I should more ardently desire than to meet him. But you are also sensible that my presence here is essential to keep our preparations in activity, or even going on at all."26 It was an extraordinary commentary on his army's enfeebled state. In late August the bread shortage grew so alarming that he faced the severe dilemma of whether to dismiss the militia because he couldn't feed them or accept new recruits and let them "come forward to starve." It was an extraordinary commentary on his army's enfeebled state. In late August the bread shortage grew so alarming that he faced the severe dilemma of whether to dismiss the militia because he couldn't feed them or accept new recruits and let them "come forward to starve."27 In early September, in order to conserve food, he sent home four hundred militiamen. In early September, in order to conserve food, he sent home four hundred militiamen.

In mid-September 1780, accompanied by Lafayette, Hamilton, Knox, and an entourage of twenty-two hors.e.m.e.n, Washington set out for his long overdue rendezvous with Rochambeau and Ternay. The spot chosen for the parley, Hartford, Connecticut, stood equidistant between the two armies. Washington dealt with the French from a weakened position: he had only ten thousand soldiers in his army, half the number he wanted, and the total would be halved on January 1 as enlistments expired. He thought it essential that Americans, not Frenchmen, should have credit for winning the American Revolution: "The generosity of our allies has a claim to all our confidence and all our grat.i.tude, but it is neither for the honor of America, nor for the interest of the common cause, to leave the work entirely to them."28 En route to Hartford, Washington and his retinue paused near West Point so that he could lunch with its commandant, Benedict Arnold. Pleased with Arnold but apprehensive about the state of West Point's defenses, Washington promised to stop by on his return trip and tour the fortifications. En route to Hartford, Washington and his retinue paused near West Point so that he could lunch with its commandant, Benedict Arnold. Pleased with Arnold but apprehensive about the state of West Point's defenses, Washington promised to stop by on his return trip and tour the fortifications.

As Washington approached Hartford, then a humble village consisting of a single road along the Connecticut River, French cannon thundered thirteen times and local citizens broke forth in ecstatic cheers. With Lafayette acting as translator, Washington and Rochambeau had their first chance to size each other up. Rochambeau looked the part of a rough-hewn soldier who had put in thirty-seven years in the army. Short and thickset, he had a scar above one eye and shuffled about with a mild limp from an old war wound. Whatever his reservations about Washington's military plans, he was tactful, even affable, at this first meeting, but too temperamental to keep his moods in check for long. Claude Blanchard, his chief quartermaster, claimed that Rochambeau distrusted everyone and saw himself "surrounded by rogues and idiots. This character, combined with manners far from courteous, makes him disagreeable to everybody."29 Perhaps because they had to humor a crotchety boss, Rochambeau's staff were instantly charmed by Washington. Blanchard professed to be "enchanted" with the American general, who exhibited "an easy and n.o.ble bearing, extensive and correct views, [and] the art of making himself beloved."30 Washington suited the idealized expectations of the world-weary French as to how a New World liberator should behave. "We had been impatient to see the hero of liberty," said the Count de Dumas. "His dignified address, his simplicity of manners, and mild gravity surpa.s.sed our expectation and won every heart." Washington suited the idealized expectations of the world-weary French as to how a New World liberator should behave. "We had been impatient to see the hero of liberty," said the Count de Dumas. "His dignified address, his simplicity of manners, and mild gravity surpa.s.sed our expectation and won every heart."31 Count Axel von Fersen found Washington "handsome and majestic" but was perceptive enough to discern trouble behind the placid countenance. "A shade of sadness overshadows his countenance, which is not unbecoming and gives him an interesting air." Count Axel von Fersen found Washington "handsome and majestic" but was perceptive enough to discern trouble behind the placid countenance. "A shade of sadness overshadows his countenance, which is not unbecoming and gives him an interesting air."32 It is perhaps surprising that more French officers didn't pick up the anxiety that beset Washington that summer. It is perhaps surprising that more French officers didn't pick up the anxiety that beset Washington that summer.

As Washington and Rochambeau commenced their talks, it quickly grew apparent that the likelihood of a combined military operation that year was remote. Even though Rochambeau paid lip service to Washington's eternal plan to regain New York, he insisted on first having clear naval superiority and awaiting reinforcements from France. On their second day, the two men drew up an appeal for additional men, money, and ships from France. Although Washington and Rochambeau established instant rapport, their meeting yielded no immediate tangible results. Rochambeau's affirmation of Washington's preeminence in the partnership didn't mislead the American general for a second. As Washington admitted ruefully to Lafayette, "My command of the French troops stands upon a very limited scale."33 At the close of the meeting, the Count de Dumas rode with Washington to a nearby town and beheld the worshipful feelings of the populace toward Washington.

We arrived there at night; the whole of the population had a.s.sembled from the suburbs, we were surrounded by a crowd of children carrying torches, reiterating the acclamations of the citizens; all were eager to approach the person of him whom they called their father, and pressed so closely around us that they hindered us from proceeding. General Washington was much affected, stopped for a few moments, and, pressing my hands, said, "We may be beaten by the English; it is the chance of war; but behold an army which they can never conquer."34 If Washington had hoped that French and Spanish support would tip the balance of the war, the inconclusive meeting with Rochambeau left him despondent. French naval superiority hadn't yet materialized, and Washington had grown weary of this interminable conflict with its American lethargy and congressional inept.i.tude. Writing to John Cadwalader, he noted plaintively how the year began with a "favorable complexion" and seemed pregnant with wonderful events, but such optimism had been exposed as a delusion. The Continental Army had no money, no munitions, and soon would have no men. "I hoped," he wrote, "but hoped in vain, that a prospect was displaying which w[oul]d enable me to fix a period to my military pursuits and restore me to domestic life . . . but alas! these prospects, flattering as they were, have prov[e]d delusory and I see nothing before us but acc.u.mulating distress."35 Since the Battle of Monmouth, Washington had soldiered on for more than two years without a major battle, and Lafayette told him of impatience at Versailles with his supposed pa.s.sivity. Washington replied that this inactivity was involuntary: "It is impossible, my dear Marquis, to desire more ardently than I do to terminate the campaign by some happy stroke, but we must consult our means rather than our wishes." Since the Battle of Monmouth, Washington had soldiered on for more than two years without a major battle, and Lafayette told him of impatience at Versailles with his supposed pa.s.sivity. Washington replied that this inactivity was involuntary: "It is impossible, my dear Marquis, to desire more ardently than I do to terminate the campaign by some happy stroke, but we must consult our means rather than our wishes."36

IF WASHINGTON THOUGHT his upcoming meeting at West Point with Benedict Arnold would revive his drooping spirits, he was proved wrong. In many ways, Arnold had been a battlefield commander after his own heart, a fearless daredevil who liked to race about the field on horseback, spurring on his men. Even George Germain lauded Arnold as "the most enterprising and dangerous" of the American generals.37 Like Washington, he had many horses shot from under him and "exposed himself to a fault," as one soldier said. Like Washington, he had many horses shot from under him and "exposed himself to a fault," as one soldier said.38 In an officer corps with the usual quota of shirkers, braggarts, and mediocrities, Washington valued Arnold's derring-do and keen taste for combat, and he treated this touchy man with untiring respect. In fact, Arnold was one of the few generals who seemed not to arouse Washington's compet.i.tive urges or suspicions. In an officer corps with the usual quota of shirkers, braggarts, and mediocrities, Washington valued Arnold's derring-do and keen taste for combat, and he treated this touchy man with untiring respect. In fact, Arnold was one of the few generals who seemed not to arouse Washington's compet.i.tive urges or suspicions.

Impetuous and overbearing, Benedict Arnold was a short man with a powerful, compact body. His penetrating eyes, aquiline nose, dusky complexion, and thick, unruly hair lent him a dashing but restless air. Growing up in a well-to-do Connecticut family, he had been a bright, mischievous boy with an incurably alcoholic father. His father's drinking led to bankruptcy when Benedict was fourteen, a traumatic event that overshadowed his childhood. The boy was apprenticed to a relative who worked as a pharmacist, and then his mother died when he was eighteen. The deep shame and poverty of his childhood produced an energetic, headstrong young man who was obsessed with status and money. After opening a pharmacy in New Haven, Arnold diversified into trading, became a sea captain, and engaged in lucrative mercantile activities. Commercial success did not cool his temperament. He was pugnacious, often resorted to duels, and was litigious when libeled. In the early stages of the Revolution, he drifted into radical politics, starting as a captain in the Connecticut militia, then rising through the ranks.

Arnold's early wartime exploits made him a legendary figure. After leading the impossible trek through the Maine woods in the failed mission against Quebec, he constructed a fleet on Lake Champlain and bade defiance to a superior British force. Most notably, he turned in such a fabled performance at Saratoga that General Burgoyne gave Arnold, not Gates, the laurels for the American victory. When Arnold took a musket ball in the leg at Saratoga, the doctors wanted to amputate the maimed limb, but he scoffed at this as "d.a.m.ned nonsense" and refused to muddle on as a single-legged cripple.39 This left him with one leg two inches shorter than the other, giving him a p.r.o.nounced limp and forcing him to rely on crutches for a prolonged period. If Arnold was a bl.u.s.tery character who browbeat subordinates, his heroism and war wounds encouraged people to make allowances for him. This left him with one leg two inches shorter than the other, giving him a p.r.o.nounced limp and forcing him to rely on crutches for a prolonged period. If Arnold was a bl.u.s.tery character who browbeat subordinates, his heroism and war wounds encouraged people to make allowances for him.

The quarrelsome Arnold never forgot the slight he suffered in February 1777 when Congress pa.s.sed him over in naming five new major generals, all brigadiers junior to him. Even after Washington helped him to become a major general, Arnold still chafed over having lost seniority to these five men, and his bitterness curdled into settled malice. He wasn't about to be placated by anyone. When he visited Washington at Valley Forge, his injured leg, in which slivers of shattered bone were embedded, was in such dreadful shape that two soldiers had to prop him up. Washington sympathized with Arnold's plight, naming him military commandant of Philadelphia after the British evacuated in June 1778. During his time in Philadelphia, Arnold set up a fine household and courted the rich, fetching eighteen-year-old Peggy Shippen, who was half his age, and they wed the following year. Peggy was trailed by rumors of having fraternized with British officers during their occupation of Philadelphia. For his part, Arnold was shadowed by allegations that he had exploited his position as commandant to enrich himself. To clear his name, Arnold demanded a court-martial, which found him guilty of two relatively minor counts of misconduct, then let him off with a mild reprimand.

The whole episode lengthened Arnold's extensive litany of grievances and convinced him that a conspiracy existed against him. As he told Washington, "Having made every sacrifice of fortune and blood and become a cripple in the service of my country, I little expected to meet the ungrateful returns I have received from my countrymen."40 He believed that Washington, during the court-martial, had withheld the unconditional support he merited, by maintaining a studious neutrality. Afterward, Washington pledged to Arnold that he would give him "opportunities of regaining the esteem of your country." He believed that Washington, during the court-martial, had withheld the unconditional support he merited, by maintaining a studious neutrality. Afterward, Washington pledged to Arnold that he would give him "opportunities of regaining the esteem of your country."41 Unbeknownst to Washington, Arnold had by now established contact with Major John Andre, adjutant general of the British Army, and was prepared to a.s.sist Sir Henry Clinton in a secret plan to seize West Point. Peggy Arnold, having befriended Andre during the British occupation, was a full-fledged confederate of the plot. Heavily in debt, the mercenary Arnold brokered a rich deal for his treachery, charging the British six thousand pounds sterling and a commission in the British Army for delivering West Point into their hands. Unbeknownst to Washington, Arnold had by now established contact with Major John Andre, adjutant general of the British Army, and was prepared to a.s.sist Sir Henry Clinton in a secret plan to seize West Point. Peggy Arnold, having befriended Andre during the British occupation, was a full-fledged confederate of the plot. Heavily in debt, the mercenary Arnold brokered a rich deal for his treachery, charging the British six thousand pounds sterling and a commission in the British Army for delivering West Point into their hands.

In June 1780 West Point took on added importance. Washington feared that Clinton might return from Charleston with a hundred vessels and aim a deadly blow at the fortress. His worries were only compounded in July when Admiral Mar-riot Arbuthnot appeared in New York Harbor with sixty or seventy more ships. Washington swore he would do everything in his power to sh.o.r.e up West Point and other defensive posts along the Hudson River. At about this time Arnold rode up to Washington on the bluff at Stony Point and asked if he had "thought of anything for him." When Washington offered him a "post of honor," commanding the "light troops," Arnold blushed and grew fl.u.s.tered. "His countenance changed and he appeared to be quite fallen," Washington remembered, "and instead of thanking me or expressing any pleasure at the appointment, never opened his mouth."42 When Washington met Arnold at his headquarters, his limp was unaccountably accentuated. Arnold had already impressed upon Washington's aide Tench Tilghman that he could no longer ride horses for long or undertake active commands and indicated his desire for the sedentary post at West Point. "It then appeared somewhat strange to me that a man of Arnold's known activity and enterprise should be desirous of taking so inactive a part," Washington later reflected. "I, however, thought no more of the matter." When Washington met Arnold at his headquarters, his limp was unaccountably accentuated. Arnold had already impressed upon Washington's aide Tench Tilghman that he could no longer ride horses for long or undertake active commands and indicated his desire for the sedentary post at West Point. "It then appeared somewhat strange to me that a man of Arnold's known activity and enterprise should be desirous of taking so inactive a part," Washington later reflected. "I, however, thought no more of the matter."43 Submitting to Arnold's importunate wishes, Washington announced on August 3, 1780, that "Major General Arnold will take command of the garrison at West Point." Submitting to Arnold's importunate wishes, Washington announced on August 3, 1780, that "Major General Arnold will take command of the garrison at West Point."44 That September, not realizing that Arnold was in league with the enemy, Washington enjoined him to improve West Point's defenses. Arnold pretended to embark on a whirl of improvements at the fortress, while continually weakening them. He made it seem as if hundreds of men were hard at work when mere dozens were enlisted. When Washington alerted Arnold that he would pa.s.s through the Hudson Valley on the way to Hartford-"I want to make my journey a secret," Washington stressed-Arnold relayed this letter to his British accomplices, listing places Washington would spend the night.45 Had the letter not been delayed, Washington might well have been taken by the British. Had the letter not been delayed, Washington might well have been taken by the British.

While Washington was returning from Hartford, Major Andre, traveling under the pseudonym of John Anderson, slipped behind American lines to collect intelligence from Arnold, who handed him papers outlining West Point's troop strength and artillery, along with the minutes of a September 6 war council sent to him by Washington. Andre tucked these tightly folded papers into his boot for safekeeping. Arnold also gave him a letter designed to smooth his way past sentries, which read: "Permit Mr. John Anderson to pa.s.s the guards to the White Plains, or below, if he choose. He being on public business by my direction."46 While returning to the British man-of-war While returning to the British man-of-war Vulture, Vulture, anch.o.r.ed in the Hudson, Andre was detained in Westchester County on September 23 by three American militiamen, who stripped him and unearthed the explosive doc.u.ments. In vain, he tried to bribe his way to freedom. That Andre was elegantly dressed in mufti, outfitted in a purple coat trimmed with gold lace and a beaver hat, became d.a.m.ning evidence in the trial against him. Unaware of the significance of the doc.u.ments found on him, Lieutenant Colonel John Jameson conveyed them to Washington with the following note: "Inclos[e]d you'll receive a parcel of papers taken from a certain John Anderson, who has a pa.s.s signed by General Arnold." Andre had asked to retain the papers, Jameson continued, but "I thought it more proper your Excellency should see them." anch.o.r.ed in the Hudson, Andre was detained in Westchester County on September 23 by three American militiamen, who stripped him and unearthed the explosive doc.u.ments. In vain, he tried to bribe his way to freedom. That Andre was elegantly dressed in mufti, outfitted in a purple coat trimmed with gold lace and a beaver hat, became d.a.m.ning evidence in the trial against him. Unaware of the significance of the doc.u.ments found on him, Lieutenant Colonel John Jameson conveyed them to Washington with the following note: "Inclos[e]d you'll receive a parcel of papers taken from a certain John Anderson, who has a pa.s.s signed by General Arnold." Andre had asked to retain the papers, Jameson continued, but "I thought it more proper your Excellency should see them."47 Two days later, not yet having seen this letter, Washington awoke at dawn in Fish-kill, New York, and set off with a long train of aides (including Lafayette) and guards to breakfast with Benedict and Peggy Arnold. The couple occupied a roomy mansion on the east bank of the Hudson River, the former residence of Washington's friend Beverley Robinson, who had raised a Loyalist regiment. En route to the house, which stood two miles below West Point, Washington made a detour to inspect several defensive positions along the river, occasioning banter from his young aides. Lafayette reproached Washington playfully, saying how the young men awaited their breakfast with the ravishing Peggy Arnold. Washington knew the coquettish charm she exerted over his men-he had known her for many years-and said gaily to his aides, "Ah, I know you young men are all in love with Mrs. Arnold . . . You may go and take your breakfast with her and tell her not to wait for me."48 Two aides, Samuel Shaw and James McHenry, went ahead with the message that the large party of guests had been delayed but would shortly arrive for breakfast. Two aides, Samuel Shaw and James McHenry, went ahead with the message that the large party of guests had been delayed but would shortly arrive for breakfast.

For Washington, it was a surreal day of curious absences, missed hints, and odd anomalies that he did not piece together into a picture of outright treason. That he found nothing suspicious in Arnold's behavior for so many hours showed his implicit trust in him. When Washington dismounted at the Robinson house at ten-thirty A.M., one of Arnold's aides, Major David Franks, explained that his boss had been summoned to West Point on an urgent call and that Peggy Arnold lay abed upstairs. After a more solitary breakfast than antic.i.p.ated, Washington boarded an awning-shaded barge, which ferried him across the Hudson to West Point, where he expected to be saluted by his host. But Arnold did not show up, and everyone professed ignorance of his whereabouts. The mystery only deepened as Washington scrutinized West Point's defenses and was shocked by their decrepit state, which showed none of the strenuous attention promised by Arnold. "The impropriety of his conduct, when he knew I was to be there, struck me very forcibly," Washington later said. "I had not the least idea of the real cause."49 Late in the afternoon a puzzled Washington was rowed back to the Robinson house. There was still no sign of Benedict, and Peggy Arnold remained incommunicado upstairs. As Washington rested in his room before dinner, Hamilton tapped on his door and laid before him a sheaf of papers, including the letter from Colonel Jameson. To his inexpressible horror, Washington set eyes on the war council minutes he had sent to Arnold, along with confidential information about West Point. Washington was thunderstruck. "Arnold has betrayed us!" he exclaimed. "Whom can we trust now?"50 As he gave way to strong feelings, he struggled to get a grip on his emotions. From his reaction it is clear that he was innocent enough, or trusting enough, to find Arnold's treachery almost inconceivable. The supreme betrayal had come not from Horatio Gates or Charles Lee or others long suspected of disloyalty, but from a man whom he had trusted, admired, and a.s.sisted. Despite a healthy dose of cynicism about most people, Washington had missed all the warning signs with Benedict Arnold. As he gave way to strong feelings, he struggled to get a grip on his emotions. From his reaction it is clear that he was innocent enough, or trusting enough, to find Arnold's treachery almost inconceivable. The supreme betrayal had come not from Horatio Gates or Charles Lee or others long suspected of disloyalty, but from a man whom he had trusted, admired, and a.s.sisted. Despite a healthy dose of cynicism about most people, Washington had missed all the warning signs with Benedict Arnold.

At this point Washington learned of an episode that