some effort, I convinced General Putnam that she would be safer and happier farther removed from the potential line of battle (I suspect the good general of having known the child best of all).
Margaret was removed to Kingsbridge. Later she was returned to the British. Her subsequent life has been romantic and untidy. She lives now in London. For some years she was the paramour of the King’s minister Charles James Fox. I am told she gives to me the honour of having been the first to take her virginity. But I do not think that would have been possible.
By the end of August 1776, General Howe had assembled on Staten Island some 34,000 men. It was his intention to seize New York City, take command of the Hudson and split the colonies in two. May I say, what he intended to do, he proceeded easily to do.
Immediately after the arrival of the British, I was sent by Putnam to every one of our outposts from the Brooklyn Heights to the Haarlem Heights. I had never seen men less prepared for a battle with anyone, much less with fresh modern European troops. Junior though I was to the great commanders, I took seriously my task which was to assess our situation as accurately as I could. My gloomy written report to General Putnam was sent on to the commanding general.
Two days later I encountered His Excellency on the Battery. A sulphurous New York August day. Tempers were short. Sweat mixed with the chalk the General used to powder his hair trickled down cheeks fiery from heat and bad temper. His mood was not improved by the sight of the British fleet making complicated manoeuvres just opposite us, cannon beautifully polished, white sails pretty beneath a leaden sky.
“What, Sir, do you think the result will be should the enemy begin an assault?” I was taken by surprise: Washington seldom asked such questions of senior officers; never of junior officers.
“Why, Sir, we shall be routed,” I said with stupid honesty.
“Never!” The “never” was from a permanent member of the chorus of worshippers that was to follow Washington throughout the Revolution ... nay, throughout his long life, even to the grave! No man was ever so much praised and fortified by those about him.
I continued. “It is my belief, Sir, that the wisest course would be the one you have so far pursued with such success since Cambridge.” Yes, I was a courtier, too.
“What, Sir, do you think that to be?” Our suspicious war-lord suspected even then that I was not entirely in thrall to his legend which, quite mysteriously, continued to grow from month to month no matter whether he won or lost or, as was more usual, did nothing.
“To imitate Fabius Cunctator. To avoid meeting head-on a superior enemy. To draw him away from his supplies. To draw him deeper and deeper into the continent where the advantage is ours not his. Sir, I would abandon New York City today. Give General Howe the sea-coast. He will take it anyway. But by withdrawing now, we keep intact the army, such as it is ...”
I had gone too far. One of the aides reprimanded me. “The best troops of the colonies are here, Major Burr. The best commanders ...”
“You under-estimate us, Major.” Washington was unexpectedly mild. With a lace handkerchief, he mopped his chalk-streaked face; the pits from the small pox were particularly deep about the mouth.
“You have asked for my report, Sir.”
“Yes.” Washington turned his back to the port and gazed at the sooty old fort that used to dominate what was still a small Dutch town with rose brick houses and slender church-spires. But then John Jacob Astor was still a butcher boy in Waldorf, Germany.
“We shall defend the city.” Washington’s mistakes were always proclaimed with the sort of finality that made one feel any criticism was to deface a tablet newly brought down from Sinai.
“Sir, I would burn the city to the ground tomorrow and withdraw into Jersey.”
“Thank you, Major. My compliments to General Putnam. Good day,
Margaret was removed to Kingsbridge. Later she was returned to the British. Her subsequent life has been romantic and untidy. She lives now in London. For some years she was the paramour of the King’s minister Charles James Fox. I am told she gives to me the honour of having been the first to take her virginity. But I do not think that would have been possible.
By the end of August 1776, General Howe had assembled on Staten Island some 34,000 men. It was his intention to seize New York City, take command of the Hudson and split the colonies in two. May I say, what he intended to do, he proceeded easily to do.
Immediately after the arrival of the British, I was sent by Putnam to every one of our outposts from the Brooklyn Heights to the Haarlem Heights. I had never seen men less prepared for a battle with anyone, much less with fresh modern European troops. Junior though I was to the great commanders, I took seriously my task which was to assess our situation as accurately as I could. My gloomy written report to General Putnam was sent on to the commanding general.
Two days later I encountered His Excellency on the Battery. A sulphurous New York August day. Tempers were short. Sweat mixed with the chalk the General used to powder his hair trickled down cheeks fiery from heat and bad temper. His mood was not improved by the sight of the British fleet making complicated manoeuvres just opposite us, cannon beautifully polished, white sails pretty beneath a leaden sky.
“What, Sir, do you think the result will be should the enemy begin an assault?” I was taken by surprise: Washington seldom asked such questions of senior officers; never of junior officers.
“Why, Sir, we shall be routed,” I said with stupid honesty.
“Never!” The “never” was from a permanent member of the chorus of worshippers that was to follow Washington throughout the Revolution ... nay, throughout his long life, even to the grave! No man was ever so much praised and fortified by those about him.
I continued. “It is my belief, Sir, that the wisest course would be the one you have so far pursued with such success since Cambridge.” Yes, I was a courtier, too.
“What, Sir, do you think that to be?” Our suspicious war-lord suspected even then that I was not entirely in thrall to his legend which, quite mysteriously, continued to grow from month to month no matter whether he won or lost or, as was more usual, did nothing.
“To imitate Fabius Cunctator. To avoid meeting head-on a superior enemy. To draw him away from his supplies. To draw him deeper and deeper into the continent where the advantage is ours not his. Sir, I would abandon New York City today. Give General Howe the sea-coast. He will take it anyway. But by withdrawing now, we keep intact the army, such as it is ...”
I had gone too far. One of the aides reprimanded me. “The best troops of the colonies are here, Major Burr. The best commanders ...”
“You under-estimate us, Major.” Washington was unexpectedly mild. With a lace handkerchief, he mopped his chalk-streaked face; the pits from the small pox were particularly deep about the mouth.
“You have asked for my report, Sir.”
“Yes.” Washington turned his back to the port and gazed at the sooty old fort that used to dominate what was still a small Dutch town with rose brick houses and slender church-spires. But then John Jacob Astor was still a butcher boy in Waldorf, Germany.
“We shall defend the city.” Washington’s mistakes were always proclaimed with the sort of finality that made one feel any criticism was to deface a tablet newly brought down from Sinai.
“Sir, I would burn the city to the ground tomorrow and withdraw into Jersey.”
“Thank you, Major. My compliments to General Putnam. Good day,
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