Washington [130]
The generals that the Congress picked to support Washington reflected the same calculus of geographic diversity that had shaped Washington’s own appointment. Bowing to political realities, it chose the burly Artemas Ward of Massachusetts as the first major general; Ward would never warm to Washington and resented being upstaged by him. He was followed by Horatio Gates, named adjutant general with the rank of brigadier. Washington admired Gates, lauded his superior knowledge of military affairs, and personally recommended him for the high post, but he would shortly revise this opinion. “I discovered very early in the war symptoms of coldness and constraint in General Gates’ behavior to me,” he later observed. “These increased as he rose into greater consequence.”41 The next major general picked by Congress was Charles Lee. He too had been recommended by Washington, who again would live to rue the choice. Washington credited Lee as “the first officer in military knowledge and experience we have in the whole army,” but he also saw that he was “rather fickle and violent, I fear, in his temper.”42 Another major general was the patrician Philip Schuyler, a wealthy landlord with extensive holdings along the Hudson River. A member of the Anglo-Dutch aristocracy of New York, he had a bulbous red nose, a raspy voice, and a frosty attitude toward his social inferiors. Finally there was the colorful, rough-hewn farmer from Connecticut, the deep-chested Israel Putnam, who had won the endearing nickname “Old Put.” Scarred, weather-beaten, and poorly educated, he was popular among his soldiers. It was said of the suspicious Putnam that he always slept with one eye open. At Bunker Hill he had supposedly uttered the famous words, “Don’t fire, boys, until you see the whites of their eyes.”43 Silas Deane said with admiration that Putnam was “totally unfit for everything” except fighting.44
Washington’s final hours in Philadelphia were long and frantic ones. When, on June 20, he sent a farewell note to officers of the five Virginia militias he had commanded, he sounded as if he tottered a bit under the stress. “I have launched into a wide and extensive field too boundless for my abilities and far, very far beyond my experience,” he wrote tensely.45 Before setting out for Boston on June 23, he dashed off a quick, reassuring missive to Martha, reminding her that “I retain an unalterable affection for you, which neither time nor distance can change.”46
Washington received a festive send-off from the Philadelphia populace. Accompanied by Charles Lee and Philip Schuyler, he was ready to mount his horse when Thomas Mifflin sprinted out, bent down, and held out the stirrup for him—a small courtesy that drew a vast ovation from the crowd. John Adams recorded a genteel detail: many congressmen showed up with servants and carriages to bid farewell to the revolutionary warrior. Washington brought along his versatile manservant, Billy Lee, who would enter fully into the fervent emotions of the struggle; as a garrulous old veteran in later years, he would talk as if he had been a full-fledged member of the Continental Army, not a slave forcibly drafted into service. Nevertheless Lee and another slave named John wore not the blue and buff of the Continental Army but the red and white Washington livery. When John Trumbull later painted Lee, he depicted him as dark-skinned and round-cheeked in an exotic red turban. A skillful horseman, Lee remained at Washington’s side throughout the war, a powerful symbol of the limitations of this fight for liberty. During the war, in a striking mark of their personal relationship, Washington would