After reading this title you may assume this is a quote about the year 2020, but this is actually a quote from financier of the Revolution Robert Morris in a letter to George Washington describing the year 1776. While the year 1776 started with much promise and hope with the capture of Boston and the passage of the Declaration of Independence, the second half of the year saw the Patriot cause nearly destroyed.

After losing New York City and a long string of battles, Washington’s Continental Army had shrunk from more than 23,000 men to just around 5,000 by December. Washington breathed life into the dying cause at Trenton on the day after Christmas, defeating a Hessian garrison.  This glimmer of hope was almost crushed by the fact that most of his army’s enlistments expired on January 1st, and his army was on the verge of dissolution. As General Cornwallis and a large British army marched towards Washington and his army at Trenton, Washington needed to convince his veterans to hold on. It led to one of the most dramatic moments of the Revolution, which occurred on New Year’s Eve, 1776.

While many of Washington’s brave men believed they had done their duty, at this moment, they were needed more than ever before. All day on December 31, 1776, Washington’s generals appealed to the soldiers through impassioned speeches to reenlist. Washington authorized an exorbitant $10 bounty to those men who agreed to remain. Despite all these exhortations, very few men were agreeing to stay on. Finally, in one of the most affecting scenes of his life, Washington himself personally appealed to the patriotism of the men who had campaigned by his side.

Washington paraded Gen. John Sullivan’s and Gen. Nathanael Greene’s divisions just outside Trenton. He entreated the men to stay on just a few weeks more. He asked those who wished to reenlist to move forward, but at that point no one moved. Sergeant Nathaniel Root of the 20th Continental Regiment (Connecticut) remembered that the men were “worn down with fatigue and privation” and had their “hearts fixed on home.” Washington, pleading with his brave soldiers wheeled his horse in front of the men and declared to them:

“My brave fellows, you have done all I asked you to do, and more than could be reasonably expected; but your country is at stake, your wives, your houses and all that you hold dear. You have worn yourselves out with fatigues and hardships, but we know not how to spare you. If you will consent to stay only one month longer, you will render that service to the cause of liberty and to your country which you probably never can do under any other circumstances. The present is emphatically the crisis which is to decide our destiny.”

Moved by their commander’s words, more than two hundred of these men stepped forward to stay on and fight. The combination of patriotic pleas and hard currency helped persuade many more to stay. Washington retained a force of about 3,000 men from his army. These veterans would prove invaluable in the coming days, and some of them would tragically pay the ultimate price in the coming days.

America has persevered through many terrible years, and we shall again. The men who persevered in the winter of 1776-1777 give us hope. Happy New Year, from all of us at Emerging Revolutionary War!

To learn more about the campaign that saved the Revolution, check out my book: Victory or Death: The Battles of Trenton and Princeton or consider joining us on a tour of the actual sites in November.

December 1776 was one of the darkest months in American history. The American Revolution was on the brink of collapse. New York City had fallen, George Washington’s Continental Army was disintegrating before the country’s eyes, and the British Army under Sir William Howe was steamrolling its way across New Jersey toward the Delaware River—the only barrier preventing Howe from squeezing the life out of the rebellion.

Following the fall of Forts Lee and Washington along the Hudson River the previous month, the Continental Army fled from the British in two major wings. Washington, commanding just 3,000 men, hastily made his way across the northern part of New Jersey in an attempt to get over the Delaware and into Pennsylvania. Major General Charles Lee, who the commander in chief described as, “The first officer in Military knowledge and experience we have in the whole army….,” commanded the other wing—7,000 men at White Plains situated above New York City in case Howe attempted to head north. Lee was eccentric and erratic, but was by far the American commander with the most military experience and knowledge at this early stage in the conflict, as Washington had admitted. This could not, however, protect Lee from the enemy.

On multiple occasions at the end of November and in early December, Washington asked, requested, and then ordered Lee to bring his command into Pennsylvania so the army may be reunited. Lee hesitated, drug his feet, and then began to grow fond of the idea of having his own independent command in New Jersey away from the reigns of his superior, whose abilities he doubted. While Washington waited, Lee wrote to Congress on December 8 that he planned to stay east of the Delaware River and “annoy, distract, and consequently weaken [the British] in a desultory war.” On December 10, his command marched into Morristown, New Jersey, and two days later moved south west to Bernardsville. It was here, that Lee decided to search for more suitable conditions for a general to make his headquarters for the evening. He found what he was looking for three miles to the east in Basking Ridge at the two-story Widow White’s Tavern. With him, he took his aide, Major William Bradford, two French volunteer officers, and fifteen guards who situated themselves around the building. That evening, Major James Wilkinson, General Horatio Gates’s aide, rode to White’s Tavern with a dispatch for Lee from his superior.

While Lee and his party got themselves comfortable that night, British dragoons were galloping about Central Jersey trying to find out all they could about Lee’s command’s whereabouts. Lieutenant Colonel William Harcourt, 22 year old Cornet Banastre Tarleton, and thirty or more horsemen of the 16^th Dragoons had left General Charles Cornwallis’s headquarters at Pennington earlier in the day and rode willy-nilly to Hillsborough on their intelligence gathering mission without any success. They made their camp there in a house that was lit on fire in the middle of the night, forcing them to make a hasty escape and sleep within a hay barn. Early the next morning, they mounted up and continued on their task. Tarleton and several other dragoons were sent ahead of the rest of the group.

As the sun rose, the two groups headed in the direction of Morristown, scooping up several rebels along the way, but only receiving sketchy information about the enemy’s location. Near Basking Ridge, their luck changed as a rider from Gen. Sullivan was intercepted who had just returned from Lee’s headquarters. He led Tarleton and Harcourt within sight of White’s Tavern. Harcourt quickly formulated his plan of action—Lee was there, and he was going to capture this grand prize. Young Tarleton was ordered to rush the guards at the front of the structure, while he took his party around the back to surround and cut off their escape. It was 10 a.m.

As the dragoons prepared to make their attack, Lee was still inside White’s Tavern. Even though his command had begun to march out of Bernardsville, he chose to stay behind and finish breakfast and dictating a response to Wilkinson for Gates. His response was a clear shot at Washington: “… entre nous [between us], a certain great man is damnably deficient—He has thrown me into a situation where I have my choice of difficulties—if I stay in this Province [New Jersey] I risk myself and army and if I do not stay the Province is lost forever … unless something which I do not expect turns up we are lost—our counsels have been weak to the last degree….” Lee had no idea of the risk he was actually facing at that moment.

Shots rang out from outside after Lee finished his message. Tarleton and his dragoons swept out through the woods and violently fell upon the general’s guard. “I went on at full Speed,” Tarleton later recounted, “when perceiving 2 [guards] at a Door and a loaded Waggon; I push’d at them making all the Noise I cou’d. The [guards] were struck with a Panic, dropp’d their arms and fled. I order’d my Men to fire into the House thro’ every Window and Door, and cut up as many of the Guard as they cou’d.” Within minutes the fire ceased and the cornet demanded Lee and everyone inside the tavern to surrender or he set fire to it and kill them all. Lee was upstairs during the fighting hoping and watching for reinforcements. They would not come. Recognizing the inevitable, he sent Maj. Bradford outside to inform Tarleton that he would surrender.

In the wake of the skirmish, Bradford, Wilkinson, and one of the Frenchmen managed to make their escape. Lee, however, would not be so fortunate. After surrendering himself to Harcourt, he was taken back to Pennington, sent to New Brunswick, and eventually to New York City for confinement. He would not be paroled and returned to the Continental Army for nearly sixteen months. The American army and the status of its cause for independence which it fought and bled for would be much different then.  

On December 13, 2020 at 7 p.m. Emerging Revolutionary War historian Mark Maloy will sit down and talk with preeminent George Washington historian Dr. Peter Henriques to discuss his latest book about the indispensable man of the Revolution, First and Always: A New Portrait of George Washington.  Peter Henriques is Professor of History, Emeritus, at George Mason University and gave the keynote address at the inaugural Emerging Revolutionary War Symposium in May of 2019.  You can watch this discussion live on our Facebook page.

George Washington is without a doubt the most important man in the story of America’s founding.  Henriques has studied Washington for decades and in 2006 published a book Realistic Visionary: A Portrait of George Washington.  Rather than a biography that covers everything in Washington’s life, both Realistic Visionary and now First and Always are “portraits.”  They are broken up into individual stand-alone essays and delve in depth into some of the most interesting and at times controversial aspects of Washington’s life.  Among these are Washington’s relationships with his mother, fellow Founding Fathers, and slavery.  The result is a deeper and fuller understanding of who George Washington really was.

To get a signed copy of Dr. Henriques new book First and Always, you can send $27.95 to 13704 Heritage Valley Way, Gainesville, VA, 20155.

Additionally, we will be talking with Dr. Henriques on the 221^st anniversary of the final illness of George Washington.  Washington became ill on December 13, 1799 and died late in the evening on December 14, 1799.  Henriques is an expert on the death of George Washington and the author of a book The Death of George Washington: He Died as He Lived that explores the final days of George Washington, so we will also discuss Washington’s death. We hope you are able to join us! If you miss the live talk, you will still be able to watch it on either our Facebook page or YouTube page in the future.

Over a week had passed since Major John Andre became the Continental Army’s prisoner near Tarrytown, New York, captured by three ragged militiamen who were probably more interested in robbing him than uncovering his intentions. For a time he had been incarcerated at Robinson House, the now defector Benedict Arnold’s former Hudson Highlands headquarters, and was eventually taken to the main American camp at Tappan, New York. There, Andre awaited his trial as a spy and eventual fate.  

During his time held as a prisoner in Tappan, Andre accumulated an impressive group of intrigued and sympathetic followers, including Alexander Hamilton. Later describing his impression of the British officer to Colonel John Laurens, Hamilton wrote,

There was something singularly interesting in the character and fortunes of André. To an excellent understanding well improved by education and travel, he united a peculiar elegance of mind and manners, and the advantage of a pleasing person. ’Tis said he possessed a pretty taste for the fine arts, and had himself attained some proficiency in poe[try], music and painting. His knowle[d]ge appeared without ostentation, and embellished by a diffidence, that rarely accompanies so many talents and accomplishments, which left you to suppose more than appeared. His sentiments were elevated and inspired esteem. They had a softness that conciliated affection. His elocution was handsome; his address easy, polite and insinuating.[1]

Andre’s “elegance of mind and manner” was not enough to save him from the gallows, however, and on September 29, 1780, he was sentenced to be hanged by a board of fourteen American general officers. No witnesses were called to the stand. Andre’s previously written confession, and his admission that he had not entered American lines under a flag of truce was enough for the decision to be made. The next day, a letter was forwarded by George Washington to Henry Clinton informing him of his adjutant-general’s fate. He would be spared, however, if the British turned over Arnold. Clinton was forced to decline the ultimatum, citing military policy to his subordinates that a deserter such as Arnold must be protected. It was probably one of the most difficult responses the British general had to give in his career.

Andre’s execution was set to be carried out at 5 p.m. on October 1, but news of a delegation’s arrival sent by Clinton to make one final effort to prevent the hanging postponed it. One of the delegates, General James Robertson, met with General Nathanael Greene, and further information about Andre’s mission was forwarded to Washington. The American commander in chief would not be swayed, however. Andre would hang the next day.

After first learning of the verdict issued to him by the board, Andre accepted his fate and was determined that he would face it as a gentleman and a soldier. As part of his last order of business on earth, he penned a heartfelt letter of appreciation and loyalty to Henry Clinton. Then, he made a plea to Washington that he may be executed by firing squad like a soldier rather than hanged as a spy:

Bouy[e]d above the terror of death, by the consciousness of a life devoted to honourable pursuits, and stained with no action that can give me remorse, I trust that the request I make to your Excellency at this serious period, and which is to soften my last moments, will not be rejected. Sympathy towards a soldier will surely induce your Excellency, and the military tribunal, to adapt the mode of my death to the feelings of a man of honour. Let me hope, Sir, that if aught in my character impresses you with esteem towards me, if aught in my misfortunes marks me as the victim of policy, and not of resentment, I shall experience the operation of these feelings in your breast, by being informed that I am not to die on a gibbet.[2]

Andre’s request was ignored. At 12 p.m., October 2, he would hang.

The morning of his execution, Andre breakfasted at Washington’s table, and as noon approached, he was led by an escort and fife and drum to the gallows, “with as much ease and cheerfulness of countenance as if he had been going to an assembly,” recalled Major Benjamin Tallmadge, who had become an admirer of the prisoner like Hamilton.[3] He was dressed in his scarlet, gold-laced coat, and upon approaching the gallows was seen to lean back for a brief moment as if in shock to learn that his request to Washington for a military execution had been denied.  

Despite this cold revelation, Andre continued on to the gallows. After struggling at first to climb the cart below the rope, he mounted it, and from the executioner’s grasp he took the noose and tied it around his own neck, then he covered his eyes with a handkerchief. The crowd surrounding him, including Maj. Tallmadge, was seen teary-eyed and sobbing. It was one more dramatic scene in the Revolutionary War, and Andre would not make it easier for anyone to witness. Lifting the blindfold, he spoke his final words, a request: “All I request of you, gentlemen, is that you will bear witness to the world that I die like a brave man.” With that, the wagon was pulled out from beneath his feet, and with one great swing and several fleeting moments, he was gone.

Major Andre’s fate was a tragedy within a tragedy. Caught up within the story of an American hero’s tragic descent towards treason, Andre became a victim of one of the darkest tales in our history. Unlike Benedict Arnold, however, whose legacy had been tarnished forever, Andre was remembered as a hero, a martyr even, by the British, and romanticized by many Americans alike. Regardless, the two men will forever be linked by history. Two-hundred and forty years later, that has not changed.    

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[1] From Alexander Hamilton to Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, [11 October 1780], Founders Online, National Archives, accessed 1 October 2020,  https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0896.

[2] Charles Inglis, The case of Major John Andre, adjutant-general to the British Army, who was put to death by the rebels, October 2, 1780, candidly represented: with remarks on the said case (New York, 1780), 26, https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N13232.0001.001/1:2?rgn=div1;view=fulltext.  

[3] Quoted in Stephen Brumwell, Turncoat: Benedict Arnold and the Crisis of American Liberty (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2018), 293.