The letter was for the most part similar to the letter to Congressman Jones, but I detected a suspicion on the part of the General that Congressmen Hamilton and Madison might have encouraged the events of the last three days.
Did the General really believe the plot originated with congressmen instead of General Gates? Did he fear some combination of the three? The evidence I had gathered seemed to point to Gates. Maybe the General wished to just make sure that certain congressmen like Hamilton and Madison did not support Gates. It was always hard to tell with the General. But I was sure of one thing—no one of the congressmen or politicians who the General dealt with was more astute in the art of politics than the General. To say that “some” said the plot had been hatched in Philadelphia but he was “suspending” his own judgment was a fine touch.
The General, I knew, held Hamilton in high regard. He had earlier been an aide to the General, but Hamilton’s zeal for military glory had driven him to ask for a combat assignment and led his fellow aides, behind his back, to call him the Little Lion when we weren’t calling him Hammy. Perhaps my dislike for Hamilton was based on the way he strutted around exulting in his eagerness for battle. Did people like Hamilton really have no fear? I had fear. I did not want to admit some others had no fear. Maybe they just covered up their fears better than I did.
As an aide, Hamilton had quarreled with the General several years before. Some silly business about Hamilton asserting the General had not shown him sufficient courtesy. The General apparently had summoned Hamilton and then waited at the top of the stairs for Hamilton, who was slow to appear. When the General expressed irritation, Hamilton exploded and announced his departure. We all tried, without success, to convince Hamilton to calm down and stay. The General tried to make amends with Hamilton and ignored his huffy resignation letter, but the latter would have none of it.
I always wondered if Hamilton had used the incident to get transferred to his own command. Anyway, things had been patched up. Hamilton had performed ably, even gloriously, at Yorktown, leading the charge against the outer British redoubts. All was forgiven. The General recognized military merit, and Hamilton was a great admirer of the General, although I always thought Hamilton, an ambitious man, must have realized, at least belatedly, that he could not rise far in any postwar government without the General’s patronage. In any event, the General knew how hotheaded Hamilton was and just weeks ago had written him a veiled warning that “the Army was a dangerous instrument to play with,” as if he feared Hamilton would encourage what was happening that week.
Looking back, I am now fascinated by how the General reacted to Hamilton and others we now in the 1840s call our Founding Fathers and how they reacted to him. The General was certainly aware of how others referred to Hamilton as “that West Indian bastard” and admired him for his humble upbringing as well as his bravery and intellect. Hamilton’s ambition—once Abigail Adams, visiting the General, compared Hamilton to both Julius Caesar and Cassius in the same sentence—did not bother the General, who thought Hamilton’s openness about his ambition was rather charming. At times, I thought the General looked upon Hamilton as a wayward son, but a most promising one.
With Thomas Jefferson there was no closeness, although they both came from Virginia. The General thought him very talented but impractical. Traveling all over the colonies, the General saw the future of the country in manufacturing, while Jefferson thought everyone should stay a farmer and that anything commercial was demeaning.
The General and Jefferson also had different views of the opposite sex. I understand Jefferson changed later, but back then he did not like men mixing with women in public meetings—something about such mixed contacts leading to the degradation of morals. The General had no such qualms. He loved the ladies and engaged with them as equals in conversations.
The General and Jefferson came to have different views on slavery. I recently read Jefferson’s Notes on the State of Virginia, and I cannot comprehend how a man who had earlier written about the iniquities of slavery could now write of Negroes as “inferior.” We knew back then that Jefferson was a hard taskmaster determined to make a profit on every slave, and that, unlike the General, Jefferson continued to buy and sell slaves, even breaking up families. Later, I learned that Jefferson had turned down a gift of thousands of dollars from the Polish nobleman Tadeusz Kosciuszko to help free and support his slaves. But, as I will soon relate, I discovered during the war that the General intended to take a different course.
For a man who prided himself on his love of science, Jefferson had some peculiar views. I read later that he was opposed to medical research in hospitals, goodness knows why. The General prided himself on being practical. He was always asking the doctors what they were learning about wounds and diseases.
Still, the General appreciated Jefferson’s advice and talents. “Thomas has a fine pen,” he said after having the Declaration of Independence read to the troops in the summer of 1776. Only later did I realize that Jefferson had lifted most of the opening line of the Declaration from what the General’s neighbor, George Mason, a man the General greatly admired, had written in the 1776 Virginia Declaration of Rights.
The General’s aides, but not the General, mocked Jefferson when, as Virginia’s governor, he ignored warnings from the General and others, did nothing to call out the militia to defend Richmond, and then fled the advancing British army. The Virginia legislature conducted a full-scale inquiry of Jefferson’s alleged cowardice—he was rumored to have fled in his pajamas and hidden in a tobacco barn. I was more sympathetic. If the British sent a brigade to hunt and kill me, I wondered if I would not have run and hid in a barn. Upon hearing about Jefferson’s travails, my fellow aide David Humphreys remarked to the General, “That will be the end of Jefferson’s career,” but the General said Humphreys should not be so harsh. “Not every man is born to be a fighter,” said the General. “Thomas is a thinker and a writer. And a mighty fine writer for whom we should be grateful.” As one who was constantly in fear of being exposed as a coward, I was relieved to hear the General’s defense of Jefferson. The General certainly went out of his way to seek Jefferson’s opinion on political matters during the war.