By September 1780, the American Revolution trudged into its fifth grueling year. Though the Continental Army had scored major triumphs against the British since the “shot heard ‘round the world” — most significantly the Battle of Saratoga (1777), which convinced France to formalize an alliance with the revolutionaries — the prospects of victory remained elusive.
Gen. George Washington needed men and supplies — and a successful military and morale-boosting campaign. The previous winter, while encamped in Morristown, N.J., his demoralized troops endured the bitter cold, some of the worst on record, as well as food shortages, financial troubles, desertion, and even a brief mutiny led by Connecticut troops.
In truth, the commander-in-chief “feared the American army might fall apart,” according to Ron Chernow’s Washington: A Life. He recognized his sheer charisma alone held the Continental Army and, indeed, the fight for independence together. As Washington admitted in a July 22, 1780, letter to his confidant, the Marquis de Lafayette, that only his presence “keep[s] our preparations in activity or even going on at all.” Morosely, several days later, he penned to Lafayette “our prospects instead of brightening grow duller.”
Nevertheless, Washington had to leave his army to reverse its fortunes. That summer, he sent Lafayette to arrange a meeting between him and Jean-Baptist Donatien de Vimeur, Comte de Rochambeau: the French commander of a 5,000-manned expeditionary force that arrived in Rhode Island on July 11. The 55-year-old nobleman was an experienced officer known for his military and administrative tact. Since beginning his career at 15, he had seen combat in multiple European struggles like the War of Austrian Succession (1740-48) and the Seven Year’s War (otherwise known as the French and Indian War (1754-63) and had been appointed as Inspector of Infantry to reform France’s army.
Indeed, King Louis XVI selected Rochambeau for this new role in the Revolutionary War, though “in a diplomatic concession to American sensibilities, agreed that he would be placed, at least nominally, under Washington’s orders,” as Chernow notes.
It was an inspired selection for by the war’s end, both Washington and Rochambeau had “enormous respect and admiration for each other’s abilities,” and even formed a friendship, according to the Museum of the American Revolution.
But the road to Yorktown, where the American and French achieved a decisive victory that led to the British surrender, was far from reality. Collaboration was imperative; and tensions existed between the two men and armies.
Yet to strategize, Washington and Rochambeau needed not only a suitable site equidistant from their camps — in New York and Rhode Island, respectively — but also hospitable territory toward the cause.
It was an easy decision when the pair chose Hartford and Wethersfield, Conn. Throughout the Revolutionary War, Connecticut had been an “early and enthusiastic participant” in the struggle for independence, and Gov. Jonathan Trumbull was the only colonial governor to support the colonists, according to Connecticut in the American Revolution.
This is the story of those Connecticut conferences held in September 1780 and May 1781 and how they, as Today in Connecticut History suggests, “marked the beginning of the end of the Revolutionary War.”
‘Shall Be at Hartford Accordingly’
Since his near fatal evacuation of New York City in 1776, Washington had long aimed to recapture it. Indeed, he considered the loss his “worst military defeat,” as George Washington’s Mount Vernon describes; yet, in the intervening years, he never had the manpower, supplies, or naval superiority to justify the undertaking.
French military support, however, revived his ambition. With the news of Rochambeau’s arrival, Washington’s spirits were briefly “uplifted” at the prospects of besieging New York, as Chernow highlights, as he “pressed Congress for an expanded army of at least twenty thousand Continental troops to cooperate with their ally.”
To his disappointment, the French forces assembled fewer men than he had anticipated, and a “significant fraction were unfit for service,” as Chernow states. Worse, Britain dispatched Rear Admiral Thomas Graves to reinforce its fleet in New York that year. The odds of achieving victory were rapidly dwindling.
Nevertheless, Washington expressed his gratitude toward the French, writing to Rear Admiral Charles-Henri-Louis d’Arsac, chevalier de Ternay that their arrival “will be productive of the happiest consequences to the freedom and independence of these states.” Moreover, despite the circumstances, he continued to press Rochambeau for the American-French forces to move against New York in an Aug. 21 letter, in which he outlined multiple strategies to “accomplish our purpose.”
Rochambeau, meanwhile, hesitated, but did not publicly dismiss the plan outright lest offend the American commander-in-chief. Privately, though, he found it impractical due to the “minute size of Washington’s army and the bankruptcy of American credit,” according to Chernow. Yet in talks with Lafayette that summer, who served as Washington’s liaison, he deflected, telling him the French needed both reinforcements — and to meet with the American general.
Though his encampment moved from Morristown to Newburgh, N.Y., and he wanted to “meet [him] at some convenient rendezvous,” Washington remained cautious about leaving the Continental Army, writing to Rochambeau:
“I ardently desire that the interview you mention could take place. I am sensible it would infinately [sic] facilitate our arrangements, and it would gratify the extreme desire I feel of assuring you and the Admiral [Ternay] personally, of my esteem—But to my great mortification and regret there are difficulties in the way not easily surmounted. We are about Ten Miles from the Enemy—Our popular government imposes a necessity of great circumspection—If any misfortune should happen in my absence it would be attended with every inconvenience.”
Ultimately, Washington agreed to a meeting “as soon as possible” — choosing Hartford as the location at the home of Jeremiah Wadsworth, a merchant and commissary for the French forces, and Sept. 20 as the date.
The stakes could not have been higher. As Washington stressed to Rear Admiral Luc Urbain du Bouëxic, comte de Guichen, who commanded a French fleet that had already seen action in the war, “The situation of America at this time is critical,” emphasizing Britain’s recent territorial gains in Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina by Gens. Henry Clinton and Charles Cornwallis, in a Sept. 12 letter. Moreover, he anticipated his force of 10,000 would, more than likely, halve by the following January when enlistments expired, as Chernow notes.
In preparation for the discussion, Washington’s aide-de-camp, Alexander Hamilton, drafted notes and various military operations — including a campaign into Canada — to present to Rochambeau and the French officers. Though Hamilton cautioned his superior to “keep out of sight the disappointments we met with in the number of men,” he advised Washington to “confess our wants and weaknesses very f[r]eely—we must paint the distresses of our finances—of the army—the impossibility of bringing out the resources of the Country much longer, unless by the help of a foreign loan—the necessity of activity if practicable on any reasonable ground.”
In mid-September, Washington left his headquarters along with Lafayette, Hamilton, Henry Knox, and more than 20 others on the “secret journey” to Hartford, according to Connecticut History. When the American and French entourages arrived, though the latter had difficulties en route, they were greeted by much fanfare from residents. According to Chernow, the initial meeting was amiable. French officers found Washington to be a dignified, handsome, and majestic “hero of liberty.” For his part, Rochambeau — a hardened commander and often distrustful of others — was friendly, keeping his reservations for Washington’s plans in check.
The two commanders developed an “instant rapport,” which would prove vital throughout the rest of the war, as Chernow states; however, the military conference, held on Sept. 21-22, failed to produce “immediate tangible results.” Washington still urged laying siege to New York, believing this would prevent the British from “detaching to prosecute their success in the Southern states” and that “if the men [from the Continental Army] who left us were not replaced by the same period, there would be a crisis in which we should be weaker than were to be wished.”
Rochambeau, however, continued to insist on waiting until the coalition had reinforcements and naval superiority, since French warships had not yet arrived from the West Indies. The French commander also suggested a southern campaign, and rejected an invasion of Canada until a “consultation had been had with the Minister of France” because “there might be some political objections to the measure.”
Still, the conference agreed on “an appeal for additional men, money, and ships from France,” according to Chernow.
Though the American and French leaders strengthened their alliance at the Hartford conference, Washington left Connecticut disheartened. Military action against the British by year’s end was unlikely and his hopes of retaking New York appeared dashed. Worse, he learned Benedict Arnold — who commanded West Point and had been a hero in the early stages of the war — had betrayed the American cause.
The next meeting between Washington and Rochambeau would not occur until the following spring — again, in Connecticut.
‘Extend Our Views to the Southward’
The winter of 1781 was no less dreary than the prior year. Washington braved the cold in a “cramped” farmhouse in New Windsor, N.Y., and continued pleading with Congress for money and supplies, the latter to stave off his troops’ starvation, as Chernow describes.
Nevertheless, frustration and embitterment stewed among the Continental Army — which finally exploded on New Year’s Day 1781 when 1,500 men from the Pennsylvania Line, encamped near Morristown, mutinied. Three officers were killed in the ensuing mayhem. In response, Washington “used New England soldiers to disarm their New Jersey compatriots and executed two of the leading mutineers,” according to History.com.
In truth, Washington believed the army was deteriorating. Moreover, he was eager for a successful military campaign that seemed out of reach; meanwhile, his protégés — Nathanael Greene and Lafayette — had achieved victories in the South. This certainly was not lost on Washington who felt “upstaged by his own disciples,” as Chernow notes. Indeed, America’s commander-in-chief had not seen combat in nearly three years since the Battle of Monmouth, June 28, 1778.
In a letter to Col. John Laurens, an American diplomat in France, Washington wrote, “We are at the end of our tether, and that now or never our deliverance must come.”
Still, there were promising developments in early 1781. The French agreed to “an indispensable loan and a munificent gift of six million livres to purchase arms and supplies,” according to Washington: A Life. Additionally, that spring, a French fleet, under the command of Admiral François Joseph Paul de Grasse, Comte de Grasse, sailed with 26 ships, 8 frigates, and 150 transports from Brest, France, to the West Indies. De Grasse’s instructions were to aid an American-French campaign that year.
In light of the news, both commanders agreed to a conference to discuss a joint military campaign. Initially intent on returning to Hartford, the Connecticut legislature was still in session, so lodgings were limited. In response, the pair settled on meeting in Wethersfield, a few miles down the road.
In a May 16 letter to Thomas Jefferson, who was serving as Virginia’s governor, Washington set the stage for the meeting, expecting to be “informed of the expectations from Europe” and would “then probably settle a plan of Campaign,” adding, “I can only assure you at present that every attention shall be paid to the relief and support of the southern States.”
Washington left his headquarters on May 18, along with Knox, French engineer Brig. Gen. Louis Le Bègue Duportail, and a sizeable entourage. He arrived the following day and lodged at the house of Joseph Webb, who had been a prominent merchant. (Webb died in 1761; his son, Joseph Jr., inherited the property.) Rochambeau, who was still camped in Rhode Island, would not arrive until May 21.
Reportedly, the night before the talks, Washington and Rochambeau attended a concert at the Wethersfield Congregational Church, along with Gov. Trumbull.
On May 22, the American-French counterparts met at the Webb House for talks that eventually became the Yorktown Campaign of 1781.
Yet the strategizing was not without its disagreements.
Though nearly a year had passed since their last meeting, Washington still envisioned an attack to liberate New York from the British. His aggressive persistence was had some justification: Gen. Clinton moved half of his men stationed in the city southward. As Washington wrote in his diary, May 22, “[T]he present reduced State of the Garrison it was thought would fall, unless relieved; the doing which [would] enfeeble their Southern operations, and in either case be productive of capital advantages.” In the same entry, however, he and Rochambeau also discussed “extend[ing] our views to the Southward as circumstances and a Naval superiority might render more necessary & eligable [sic].”
Rochambeau favored the latter: to march the joint armies south. His observations were valid: the British were entrenched in the fortified New York, so a direct attack would prove difficult. Moreover, the French fleet was closer to the southern colonies and would have caught Gen. Cornwallis and the British army off guard. Nevertheless, as Chernow describes, he had to be diplomatic and even “humored Washington and initialed a document saying that New York held top priority”; but he instructed de Grasse to sail to Chesapeake Bay instead of New York. (He would later admit this to Washington.)
Washington, however, expressed his reservations for a southern campaign due to logistics, writing in his diary:
“[T]he insurmountable difficulty & expence [sic] of Land transportation—the waste of Men in long marches (especially where there is a disinclination to the Service—objections to the climate &ca.) with other reasons too numerous to detail, induced to this opinion.”
In truth, America’s commander-in-chief was frustrated, feeling as “a junior partner in the French alliance” as Chernow notes. Nevertheless, the conference was productive and meaningful, and the pair forged “an ever deeper mutual personal regard and trust,” according to the Museum of the American Revolution. Ultimately, both sides agreed to combine their forces in Westchester County, New York — and, once there, they would decide to either attack New York City or march south.
Despite the tense strategizing (and, perhaps, bruised egos), the discussions were consequential, laying the foundation for the Yorktown Campaign, and eventually American independence.
To Victory
On July 6, 1781, Washington and Rochambeau’s forces finally met in Philipsburg, N.Y. The French were astonished by the “makeshift [Continental] army” — but recognized Washington’s “greatness” because he had “done something unprecedented by cobbling together a creditable fighting force from the poor, the young, the black, and the downtrodden, and he had done it in the face of unprecedented political obstacles,” according to Chernow.
Still, a war had to be won — and time was of the essence. With intelligence from Lafayette, Gen. Cornwallis was now garrisoned in Yorktown; meanwhile, de Grasse’s fleet “would only stay until October 15” but would be in position to provide naval support, as the National Park Services notes. Humbly, Washington could no longer hold onto his plans for a New York siege, opting for the southern campaign, writing on Aug. 14:
“Matters having now come to a crisis and a decisive plan to be determined on—I was obliged, from the Shortness of Count de Grasses premised stay on this Coast—the apparent disinclination in their Naval Officers to force the harbour of New York and the feeble compliance of the States to my requisitions for Men, hitherto, & little prospect of greater exertion in future, to give up all idea of attacking New York; & instead thereof to remove the French Troops & a detachment from the American Army to the Head of Elk to be transported to Virginia for the purpose of cooperating with the force from the West Indies against the Troops in that State.”
By late September, the American-French alliance arrived at Yorktown and lay siege, achieving a “decisive” victory when the British army surrendered on Oct. 19, 1781. The Battle of Yorktown would be the “last major land battle” of the Revolutionary War — though hostilities officially ended with the signing of the Treaty of Paris in 1783.
After eight years of war and immeasurable hardship, America gained its independence.
It was not an easy road toward freedom. There were many disasters and near calamities. But the relationship between Washington and Rochambeau during the Yorktown campaign had been remarkably harmonious, as the Museum of the American Revolution suggests. In the war’s final chapter, the commanders developed a “deep bond of trust and friendship,” which lasted for the rest of their lives.
Connecticut played a vital role in providing the proving ground for the American and French alliance to grow, mature, and, ultimately, succeed in defeating Great Britain. Indeed, the colony was “essential to supplying the war effort” and “provided more troops to George Washington’s army than any other state except Massachusetts,” according to Mount Vernon. Had public sentiment skewed more Loyalist — i.e., toward supporting British rule — it would have been more challenging for Washington and Rochambeau to meet and coordinate the end of the war.
Instead, Connecticut was a base for independence, contributing mightily to the pursuit of freedom.
As the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence approaches, it offers us the opportunity to remember Connecticut’s contributions to the war effort — from military provisions to facilities for strategizing — and the freedoms we hold dear. Our history can inform our actions today. Are we protecting the inalienable rights for future generations? How are we laying the groundwork for those yet unborn to pursue their own happiness?
For all of us at Yankee Institute and its growing community of friends and partners statewide, Connecticut’s revolutionary legacy can inspire us to secure our state’s future through economic opportunity, self-governance, localism, and civic engagement. The promise of American liberty is not only a cherished relic of the past 250 years, but our responsibility to ensure for the next 250 years.
Together, we have the resolve and will to keep aflame the light of liberty.
Till next time —
Your Yankee Doodle Dandy,
Andy Fowler
