A Year With George Washington
January 23rd 1778
Even when human beings are united in a common cause, the sordid parts of human nature will nearly always find their way to the surface. Washington, in the darkest year of the American Revolution, was not immune to the machinations of the pernicious souls around him.
But his handling of the “Conway Cabal,” a coalition of rebid detractors including army officers, civilians, and politicians, scheming to have him removed as head of the American army, proved his worthiness for command yet again.
Thomas Conway, the namesake of the “Cabal”, was born in Ireland and served in the French army as an officer. He had come to America and obtained the rank of Brigadier General in the hope that if he distinguished himself in the Continental Army, it would burnish his reputation enough to earn him the rank and standing of a Major General in France.
Following the Battle of Brandywine in September of 1777, Conway wrote to Congress, recounting his glorious service on the battlefield, and requested a promotion to Major General.
Washington, learning of this, wrote to Congressman Richard Henry Lee, imploring that it would not be proper to promote Conway over the twenty or so more deserving officers in line for the same honor. He was unusually critical of the Irishman, turned Frenchman, writing, “General Conway’s merit then as an officer, and his importance in this army, exists more in his own imagination than in reality. For it is a maxim with him to leave no service of his untold.”
On January 23, 1778, Major General Horatio Gates, a chief rival of Washington, wrote to him regarding the source of Washington’s irritation, a letter Brigadier General Thomas Conway had written to Gates in which he cast aspersions on Washington’s ability and character.
Gates, having triumphed over British General Burgoyne the previous fall at Saratoga, began to envision himself at the head of the American Army rather than Washington, and thus received the letter in a spirit that validated his own thoughts.
General Gates did not know it at the time, but Washington had learned of the letter’s baneful content through an American General, Lord Stirling, who was loyal to him. The letter’s damning content was obtained by Stirling through one of Gates’s own aides, James Wilkinson, who was on his way to deliver news of Gates’s victory at Saratoga to Congress, rather than Washington.
Wilkinson, an inveterate storyteller, in a supposed drunken stupor, revealed to one of Stirling’s aides, Major McWilliams, the contents of the letter from Conway to Gates in which Conway maligned the leadership of General Washington. In it, Conway intimated that only an intervening God had prevented the destruction of the American army. “Heaven has been determined to save your country,” Conway haughtily surmised, “or a weak general and bad councillors would have ruined it.”
In the letter Gates wrote to Washington, he feigned innocence and attempted to shift Washington’s indignation back toward him, accusing the general of sending his aide, Alexander Hamilton, on a stealth mission to ascertain the contents of Gates’ correspondence. Gates wrote, “Those letters have been stealingly copied,” Gates then vowed he would catch “the villain that has played me this treacherous trick.”
Washington must have been momentarily amused, knowing the truth that his intel came from Gates’s own personal aide. When he informed Gates of the truth, he was mortified to discover the leak came from within his own camp.
Washington, though reserved, did not sit idly by when he and those loyal to him were called into question. He learned that a great many in Congress were both quietly and openly critical of him.
Samuel Adams, Thomas Mifflin, Richard Henry Lee, and Benjamin Rush, all influential current or former members of Congress, had lost confidence in Washington and were none too silent about it.
Henry Laurens, an ally of Washington’s, revealed to his son John that many in Congress thought that under Washington’s command, “our army is under no regulations or discipline.”
Still worse, Congress further undermined Washington when it created the Board of War to supervise him. Gates was appointed as its president, and Conway as its Inspector General, which came with a promotion to major general. Thomas Mifflin, another member of the “Cabal,’ served as Quartermaster General, a position many believed he used to his personal advantage to the detriment of Washington and his army. Gates, Conway, and Mifflin, all, had previously reported to Washington, but were suddenly beholden only to those in an unfriendly Congress.
While Washington was seething inside, he conducted himself as he always had, with a calm reserve. As to Gates, he would soon reveal his inadequacy as a general when placed in command of the southern army. Gates had to be replaced by General Nathanael Greene after his repeated failure to oust the British.
Washington, for his part, would always see the bigger picture and would later write that, “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.”
Mifflin, having not adequately supplied Washington’s army at Valley Forge and been accused of embezzlement, eventually resigned, serving in several posts before becoming the Governor of Pennsylvania in 1788.
Major General Conway, fueled by his desire to rise in the French Army, let his boundless ambition color his every move. Eventually, he harangued Congress so often and threatened resignation so many times that they eventually took him up on it. Still, he did not cease his attacks on Washington and would pay a price for it.
In July 1778, John Cadwalader, Commander of the Pennsylvania Troops and devout supporter of General Washington, challenged Conway to a duel. Cadwalader shot Conway in the mouth and through the neck, and was reported to have stood over him and said, “I have stopped the damned rascal’s lying anyway.
Nearly everyone, including Conway, thought the wound fatal. Conway, in a moment of profound remorse for his conduct, penned an apologetic letter to his former Commander-in-Chief.
“I find myself just able to hold the pen during a few minutes,” Conway continued, “and take this opportunity of expressing my sincere grief for having done, written, or said anything disagreeable to Your Excellency. My career will soon be over. Therefore, justice and truth prompt me to declare my last sentiments. You are, in my eyes, the great and the good man. May you long enjoy the love, veneration, and esteem of these states whose liberties you have asserted by your virtues.”
Amazingly, Conway would recuperate and live another 17 years. He would serve in the French army as Marèchal de Camp, governor of French India, and fight alongside Royalist Forces during the French Revolution.
When he realized his life was in danger from having fought with the Royalists, he appealed to the British government for refuge in England, which was granted. With ailing health, he died soon thereafter.
Summoning his restraint in the face of withering attacks from both the enemy at the door and those within his own army, George Washington deftly isolated and diffused the internal rebellion that could have derailed the Revolution.
Many believe that Washington must have been touched by the divine to have remained so faithful and dedicated to a people clamoring for his destruction.
Even with a chronological distance spanning two-and-a-half centuries, Washington remains a model of faithfulness and steadfastness in the face of adversity.
He was a master of defending himself and those around him with a quiet dignity, secure in the knowledge that “loose cannons”, given enough time, will always shoot themselves in the foot. Conway, Mifflin, Gates, the British, and others did just that.
