Washington was not so conciliatory, however, when he warned Howe that “whatever Treatment Colonel Allen receives; whatever fate he undergoes, such exactly shall be the Treatment and Fate of Brigadier Prescott, now in our Hands. The Law of Retaliation, is not only justifiable, in the Eyes of God and Man, but absolutely a duty, which in our present circumstances we owe to our Relations, Friends and Fellow Citizens.”4 He seemed to go beyond Congress’s resolution on the subject, which had merely “Ordered, That General Washington be directed to apply to General Howe on this matter, and desire [Prescott] may be exchanged” for Allen.5
Washington was ardent in the defense of his men. He made it clear that if the British continued to abuse Allen and carry out their plans to hang him, Prescott would suffer for it. And this more extreme stance likely saved Allen’s life: although the British repeatedly threatened to hang Allen without trial, when rumors reached England that Prescott was being dreadfully abused and would likely be killed if they executed Allen, King George III took notice. He ordered that Allen be sent back for a fair trial.6 After Allen arrived in America, Washington secured his release in exchange for a captured British colonel, and he commended Allen for his fortitude and “enthusiastic zeal.”7
General Washington’s hard-line view on the treatment of enemy captives was not reserved for captured British troops. At a time when American courts were sentencing Tories to brandings and Continental Army troops purportedly executed surrendering Loyalist soldiers, Washington also condoned at least some of this conduct.8 After word reached New York City that the Americans’ invasion of Canada had been repelled, there was a great uptick in the “bitterness of feeling already shown towards the loyalists.”9 Tensions boiled over one balmy June night when patriots hauled Tories into the streets “with candles forced to be held by them, or pushed in their faces, and their heads burned.”10 By Wednesday of that same week, the riots continued in broad daylight throughout downtown Manhattan.
Pastor Shewkirk, viewing the pandemonium from his Moravian Church, chronicled the “unhappy and shocking scenes” in his diary. He reported witnessing several Tories being made to “ride the rails,” a practice in which a victim was forced to straddle a sharp metal rail that was hoisted onto patriots’ shoulders. They paraded through the streets, the victim wincing as the rail cut into his legs and groin. “Some were stripped naked and dreadfully abused.”11
Israel Putnam, a stout, burly American major general affectionately called “Old Put” by his troops, confronted one such procession. Known for his reckless courage and fighting spirit, he was nevertheless appalled by the abuse and would not stand for it. The rotund leader condemned his fellow patriots’ behavior and dispersed the angry mob. Surprisingly, however, Washington reprimanded Old Put for doing so.
While the commander would not order that Loyalists be abused—they were Americans, after all—he would not necessarily stop others from doing so. Washington scolded Old Put, arguing that “to discourage such proceedings was to injure the cause of liberty in which they were engaged, and that nobody would attempt it but an enemy of his country.”12 Washington’s arguments justifying abuse sharpened further as the war went on and the Americans’ desperation increased.
Following the standstill at Boston, the British evacuated. In what was perhaps the most memorable Boston Saint Patrick’s Day parade, the redcoats marched down the city’s streets on March 17, 1776, and onto their cannon-laden ships. Howe retreated to Canada and the Americans rejoiced. Spontaneous celebrations erupted. Rum spilled into the streets of Boston to the sound of fife and drum.
But Washington knew better. He foresaw darker days ahead. Like many others, he predicted that New York City would be Howe’s next target. In light of Britain’s naval supremacy, the location was indefensible from the American military’s perspective. “What to do with the city?” asked Washington and his officers. “. . . It is so encircled with deep navigable waters that whoever commands the sea must command the town.”13 While the British had over one hundred men-of-war in their worldwide armada, the Americans had zero. These were not good statistics for defending an island. But America and its political leaders expected a defense of the city, and the commander obliged. He marched with the Continental Army for over two hundred miles down from Boston to occupy Manhattan and Brooklyn.
Washington began to brace for the impending attack, ordering that his troops erect elaborate forts and dig trenches throughout the area. After months of toil, the Americans watched in dread as the British armada approached the city. But with his army in good health and good spirits, Washington tried to stay optimistic. Having chased the British from Boston, he hoped that he could repel their superior firepower and numbers again. He believed that the righteousness of the revolutionary cause would make the Americans formidable fighters even if they lacked experience and training. “Let us therefore animate and encourage each other,” he declared, “and show the whole world that a freeman, contending for his liberty on his own ground, is superior to any slavish mercenary on earth.”14 America was drunk with confidence.
It was at this time, July 1776, that America was officially born. At the outset of hostilities in Massachusetts a year earlier, only the radicals had wanted independence while most of the colonists hoped for reunification. But after a year of fighting, reconciliation became impossible in the face of the British atrocities and America’s surging patriotism. Thomas Paine, a recent immigrant from Britain, wrote a stunning essay calling for an American republic to break from the British monarchy. This bestselling pamphlet, Common Sense, galvanized public support for independence and convinced the colonists that “The Sun never shined on a cause of greater worth” than their revolution.15 In response, the congressmen decided to do something of which they became rather fond: they appointed a committee.
This five-man committee was tasked with drafting a statement justifying the colonies’ break from their mother country. Thomas Jefferson, a brilliant thirty-three-year-old attorney from Virginia, took the lead. He was a man of striking contrasts. Born into one of Virginia’s most distinguished families, he could be rather elitist at times but nevertheless fancied himself fiercely egalitarian and even sneered at the mention of aristocratic blood.16 He took obsessive notes, including each day’s barometric pressure and the minute details of his vegetable garden, but somehow lost track of his own debts to his wine distributor. He was a rather humorless intellectual, yet one of his favorite books was Don Quixote.17
Jefferson enjoyed the privilege of a classical liberal education, studying philosophy, language, science, history, law, and the classics. He loved to learn almost any subject, although he complained while studying ethics and metaphysics.18 After his formal schooling ended, he read ravenously throughout his life. His genius was seemingly limitless: besides being a lawyer and statesman, he was also an architect, geographer, scientist, inventor, naturalist, agriculturalist, fiddler, and philologist—to name just a few of his “hobbies.”19 Although his looks improved with age, as a youth he was described as “certainly not handsome, and in order to establish his social attractiveness, his friends f[e]ll back on ‘his countenance, so highly expressive of intelligence and benevolence.’”20 With his freckles, sandy hair, long gangly limbs, and soft-spoken demeanor, Jefferson appeared to his fellow congressmen as more of a gawky youth than a powerful politician. But whatever he lacked in public presence, he more than compensated with his mighty pen.
With only a couple of weeks and a busy schedule, Jefferson pretty much threw the Declaration of Independence together. Downplaying his masterpiece, he later wrote, “Neither aiming at originality of principle or sentiment, nor yet copied from any particular and previous writing, it was intended to be an expression of the American mind.”21 His Declaration eloquently outlined America’s grievances against King and Parliament, making a rousing case for the colonies’ natural right to throw off the bonds of tyranny. But the Continental Congress decided to table it.
Fierce debate ensued, with multiple colonies initially rejecting the call for immediate independence. But Congress finally voted in favor of officially breaking from the British Empire on July 2, 1776. One delegate prophesied: “The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable