I stepped out of Hasbrouck House, realizing I badly needed a breath of the winter air blowing in from the Hudson. Was this all the General was going to do? Was he just playing for time before making a decision? That seemed likely, given the request for information and the General’s propensity for delaying action until the last moment. Still, unless the mutineers abandoned their quest, which seemed highly unlikely, the General was going to have to make a decision. Was he planning on leading the mutiny? Or planning on opposing it? Or just standing aside? I couldn’t tell which way he was leaning.
I started thinking about some of those letters we had received urging the General to seize power before the young country destroyed itself. I’ve told you about the letter from Reverend Duché. Just last May the General had received a letter from Colonel Lewis Nicola. The colonel, age sixty-five, had been born in Dublin and served all over Ireland in the British army before moving to Philadelphia and joining the revolutionary cause. Nicola was a man greatly admired by the General and the officer corps. He had conceived and executed the idea of taking partially disabled men and forming them into an Invalid Corps to guard powder magazines, ports, hospitals, and bridges and take on other light duties. The Invalid Corps struggled with the same problems as the rest of the army, and Nicola in his letter to the General railed against the lack of pay, awful food, and bad clothing, and blamed this all on the Congress.
In a premonition of the anonymous letters, Colonel Nicola feared “the settling & satisfying [of the army’s] just demands will be little attended to, when our services are no longer wanted.” Nicola saw a dire future: “the recompense of all our toils, hardships, expense of private fortune, during several of the best years of our lives, will be . . . beggary.” Writing in a tone similar to that of the anonymous letter writer, he stated, “We who have borne the heat & labor of the day will be forgot and neglected by such as reap the benefits without suffering any of the hardships . . .”
Like the anonymous writer, Nicola predicted the army would after peace not give up their arms unless Congress fulfilled its promises, which he doubted: “From several conversations I have had with officers, & some I have overheard among soldiers, I believe it is generally intended not to separate after the peace ’till all grievances are redressed, engagements & promises fulfilled . . . [but] neither officers nor soldiers can have any confidence in [congressional] promises.”
To Colonel Nicola, the blame for the army’s plight rested completely with the congressional form of government under which the states existed: “large bodies” of “wise and moderate” representatives could not lead with the “energy” of a king. “A monarch may often be governed by wise & moderate counsels, but it is hardly possible for larger bodies to plan or execute vigorous ones.” Looking into history of “modern republics,” he noted that they were few in number and “their luster has been of short duration, and, as it were, only a blaze.” Nicola pointed to the Dutch Republic—which while “mistress of nearly half the commerce of the earth”—didn’t have a strong enough government to protect itself and was forced to rely on neighboring monarchies.
Nicola feared that such would be the fate of the fledgling United States without a king: “Has it not evidently appeared that during the course of this war we have never been able to draw forth all the internal resources we are possessed of, and oppose or attack the enemy with our real vigor? . . . This war must have shown to all, but to military men in particular, the weakness of republics.”
Colonel Nicola proceeded to explain to the General his plan in which all those who had served in the army would be compensated with land in the West. It was clear to him what form of government the veterans should have: “I have little doubt, when the benefits of a mixed government”—a limited, constitutional monarchy—“are pointed out and duly considered, . . . such will be readily adopted.”
A monarch, of course, meant naming a king, and Nicola, without naming the General, left no doubt who that king should be: “in this case it will, I believe, be uncontroverted that the same abilities which have led us, through difficulties apparently insurmountable by human power, to victory and glory . . . would be most likely to conduct and direct us in the smoother paths of peace,” particularly since the abilities of this unnamed person “have merited and obtained the universal esteem and veneration of an army.” Nicola delicately allowed that since “some people have so connected the ideas of tyranny and monarchy as to find it very difficult to separate them, it may therefore be requisite to give the head of such a constitution as I propose, some title apparently more moderate” than king, although he argued there was a “strong argument” and “material advantages” for the “title of king.”
The General’s response to the colonel’s letter was blunt and forceful. Dictating to my fellow aide, David Humphreys, the General was at pains to make clear that “no man possesses a more sincere wish to see ample justice done to the army than I do.” Still, he expressed “surprise and astonishment” at Nicola’s proposal. The General stated his strong disagreement and that he would be the last person to consider such a scheme, which he viewed with abhorrence; further, he thought “such ideas existing in the army” was “painful” to him. The General urged Nicola to “banish these thoughts from your mind.” The General’s response was certainly direct, and Colonel Nicola, intimidated and perhaps fearing for his command, apologized three times to the General. And yet I don’t believe the correspondence, unlike with Reverend Duché’s letter, was rushed to the Congress. Nicola’s letter struck a chord with the General’s aides, and I know some copied the letter and showed it to others.
My thoughts returned to the second anonymous letter. I wanted to believe that the General was not the author. After writing thousands of letters under the General’s dictation, I was pretty sure the General had not dictated this letter. It was too flowery—definitely not the General’s style and probably beyond his abilities. But had he ordered it? And if he had not, was he going to seize the leadership of the mutiny? Maybe the diatribe against “moderation” was meant to convince others it was not the General’s doing.
The General’s orders to gather information seemed such an inadequate response if he wanted to stop a mutiny. Why not call in officers for questioning and threaten court-martials? Then again, the General was obsessed with gathering information and intelligence before making any decision. Some said this obsession was a fault that had led to opportunities being lost throughout the war. But then again, in this way, big mistakes had been avoided. The General was known for being tempestuous and brave. He was that, but I also knew him to be a very cautious man—some said too cautious—when it came to throwing his troops into battle.