Independence (36 page)

More bad news cascaded on North in the weeks that followed. First, recruiting went badly in August and September. Next, the secretary at war convinced the monarch that sending to America all the reinforcements agreed to would leave merely 4,500 regulars in all of England and Scotland, too few to defend the homeland in a worse-case scenario. By early autumn North feared that the British army in America would have insufficient manpower to conduct a broad campaign in 1776. He took the only step left to him. North sought to hire foreign soldiers, turning first to Russia’s czarina, Catherine the Great.
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With England facing a bigger, more dangerous war than had been foreseen, changes in high places seemed imperative. Sometimes the king demanded the changes, but North also realized that new faces were needed. General Gage was the first to go.

The king had turned against Gage a year earlier, convinced after reading the general’s reports that he was a defeatist. Gage had bluntly told North’s government that all America, not merely the Yankees, would fight if London did not back down. He suggested suspending the Coercive Acts, though only in order to buy time for making the necessary preparations for war. Winning a war against the Americans would not be easy, he had advised. He would need a huge army, and he wanted it at his disposal on the first day of war. He would be fighting a formidable foe and would have to pacify not merely the coastal areas but the interior of the colonies as well, no easy undertaking. “If you think ten Thousand Men significant, send Twenty, if one Million is thought enough, give two.” In another missive, he added, “send me a sufficient Force to command the Country, by marching into it, and sending off large Detachments to secure obedience thro’ every part of it.”
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Although Gage’s reading of the situation had been uncannily prescient, word of the disasters on the day of Lexington and Concord, and on Bunker Hill, convinced North that Gage was not the man for the job. As usual, it fell to Dartmouth to do the dirty work. “From the Tenor of your Letters,” he wrote to Gage on August 2, “the King is led to conclude that you have little Expectation of effecting any thing further this Campaign, and has therefore commanded … that you … return to England.” He was to be succeeded as commander of the British forces in America, Dartmouth went on, by General Howe, who had led the assault on Bunker Hill.
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Gage, a good soldier with an excellent sense of the situation throughout the colonies, was gone, replaced by a commander who would prove to be his inferior in every respect.

Dartmouth was the next to go. Out of step with this hard-line ministry for the past eighteen months, he had survived as long as he did largely because of his familial ties to North. But with a tough war ahead, the first minister understood that Dartmouth could not be kept on. North tried to make Dartmouth’s ouster as painless as possible by offering him another, less important, cabinet position. But that meant someone else had to be removed from his seat to make room. Weeks were consumed in delicate negotiations, during which one insider claimed that North sweetened the pot by promising Dartmouth that America would be offered new terms for reconciliation. At long last Dartmouth resigned as American secretary in November and was named Lord Privy Seal. In the words of North’s biographer, Dartmouth “retired into honorable unimportance in the cabinet.”
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Lord George Germain succeeded Dartmouth as the American secretary. He would in time become a veritable secretary of war and, Lord North aside, the most powerful man in the ministry. A noted war hawk, there was no question that Germain would be more forceful than his predecessor. Yet, his appointment was somewhat surprising. He was considerably older than most leaders on both sides in this war—he was sixteen years older than both Lord North and General Washington—and he was “a man with a past,” as historian Piers Mackesy described him.
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Born to great wealth in Kent, Germain chose to soldier after several indifferent years as a student. It seemed an excellent choice, as he rose to the rank of major general within only fifteen years.

When the Seven Years’ War broke out, Germain was named second-in-command of the British army in the European theater. But three years into that conflict, he was accused of disobeying orders and behaving cravenly during the Battle of Minden. Though cleared of the charge of cowardice, he was dismissed from the service and endured years of ridicule and incivility, sometimes at the hands of those who had once been close friends. Nevertheless, some believed him unfairly wronged and stood by him, even seeing to his agonizingly slow rehabilitation. First, they helped Germain get appointed to a series of minor offices. Eventually, he took a seat in Parliament, where he supported the Declaratory Act and the taxes levied on the colonists. In 1774 Germain demanded that the Yankees be punished for the Boston Tea Party. As North’s government contemplated its response to the destruction of the tea, Germain spoke on the floor of the House of Commons in favor of “a manly and steady perseverance” to end the “state of anarchy and confusion” in America and to restore “peace, quietude, and a due obedience to the laws of this country.” He caught North’s eye with that assertive speech.
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Germain continued to speak in Parliament on the American problem, earning a reputation in some circles as an authority on the matter. From beginning to end he characterized New England’s radicals as “a tumultuous and riotous rabble” that harbored “dark designs,” including American independence. He belittled compromise, scorning the abdication of any parliamentary authority. “Support your supremacy,” he exhorted. He contended that the colonists would have been brought to heel a decade earlier “if the Stamp Act had not been unfortunately repealed.”
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Germain’s unvarnished optimism and skill in debate impressed the first minister, who increasingly thought him the ideal candidate to present and defend the government’s American policies. Germain, meanwhile, won the support of several hard-liners inside the government, among them Wedderburn, undersecretary of state William Eden—a close friend to whom North often turned for advice—and the Earl of Suffolk, the secretary of state for the Southern Department. They brought Germain’s recommendations for dealing with the recalcitrant colonists to the prime minister’s attention: Raise Loyalist regiments to augment the army; unleash Canadian troops on New York’s northern frontier; and retake New York. “We are equal to the contest; our internal resources are great,” he insisted. “I shall be for exerting the utmost force of this Kingdom to finish the rebellion in one campaign.” In the wake of Bunker Hill, North thought Germain “the fittest man in the Kingdom” for directing the American war and was eager to move him into Dartmouth’s slot.
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Lord George Germain by George Romney. A former soldier, Germain entered the ministry as American secretary soon after hostilities commenced. He steadfastly urged a hard line and was opposed to negotiations with the colonists. (William L. Clement Library, University of Michigan)

Many opposed bringing Germain into the government. Some could never forgive him for his behavior at Minden. Others feared that his obsession with personal redemption would color his judgment in making military decisions. Those who believed that only negotiations could lead to reconciliation with America knew that Germain thought in terms of the total subjugation of the colonists. Not a few were put off by what they saw as his cold, unapproachable manner. North’s brother, the bishop of Worcester, was among those who cautioned against Germain’s appointment, warning that he was “not a popular Man, & is reckoned impracticable and ambitious.” But North chose Germain. Even at sixty years of age, Germain remained an impressive figure, tall and muscular. He radiated a dignity that commanded respect and fear among many, scorn among some. North was swept up by Germain’s confidence and arsenal of ideas, not to mention his sharp tongue, which would be useful in managing MPs. Above all, the prime minister believed that the inflexibly tough Germain was the man who could “bring the colonists to their knees.”
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One item remained. In the first hours after learning of Bunker Hill, the ministers considered having the king officially proclaim that the colonies were in a state of rebellion. They turned to Wedderburn to draft the document. During the several days that were required for Britain’s chief legal officer to complete his task, word arrived that Richard Penn had sailed from Philadelphia during the previous month, bringing with him some sort of petition adopted by the Continental Congress. Though North’s government had never recognized Congress, some officials wished to delay any royal pronouncement until the details of Congress’s appeal were learned. North was one who hoped to forestall any action until Penn arrived, and he dawdled more than usual in revising the solicitor general’s handiwork. But few in the ministry saw any reason for waiting, and fewer still were disposed to receive any product of the Continental Congress.

Nor was the king prepared to accept any communiqué from the Continental Congress. Nine months earlier, George III had concluded that force alone could resolve the American problem. He had seen no reason then, and he saw none in the summer of 1775, for believing that the colonists would peacefully agree to terms of reconciliation that were consistent with what he believed to be in Great Britain’s national interest. On learning of Lexington and Concord, the king told North that “any other conduct but compelling obedience would be ruinous.” When he received word of Bunker Hill, the king wrote North: “we must persist and not be dismayed by any difficulties that may arise on the other side of the Atlantick; I know I am doing my Duty.”
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North had no stomach for confrontation with the monarch. At no time in the fourteen years that he headed the ministry did North possess the mettle to stand up to the king. Had Great Britain been led by a more adroit prime minister—a Disraeli rather than a North—perhaps the monarch could have been brought around to a less intransigent strategy. War might have been avoided or, in the aftermath of the early military catastrophes, Great Britain might have been set on a course leading to concessions and peace.

As it was, North did not even make an attempt to bring the cabinet around to his way of thinking. He simply went along with those who believed that war, and war alone, could resolve the Anglo-American dispute. During the third week in August, the prime minister sent the reworked version of the royal proclamation to Windsor Castle. On August 23—one day before Penn and Arthur Lee presented the Olive Branch Petition to the American secretary—George III issued the Proclamation for Suppressing Rebellion and Sedition.
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The monarch proclaimed that many Americans, “misled by dangerous and ill-designing men, and forgetting” their allegiance to the mother country, had “proceeded to open and avowed rebellion” that included “traitorously preparing, ordering, and levying war against us.” The king also pledged “condign punishment [for] the authors, perpetrators and abettors of such traitorous designs.”
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Great Britain had declared war on America. London’s response to the American moderates’ attempt at reconciliation was much as Franklin had expected, and as John Adams had prayed it would be.

North’s government had worked tirelessly during the two months since it learned of the outbreak of war, and in September and October the prime minister continued his exertions to furnish General Howe with adequate troops. Early in September the prime minister also authorized his new commander in chief in America to abandon Boston and transfer operations to New York, a step earlier recommended by Gage and advocated by Germain. Britain’s army could be more easily supplied in New York, and possession of the Hudson, Germain said, would be “the decisive blow” of the war.
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The mood on Downing Street remained grim, all the more so when in late summer London newspapers carried the story of the arrival in Plymouth of the
Charming Nancy
, a three-master whose passengers included nearly two hundred soldiers wounded on Bunker Hill, “some without legs, and others without arms; and their cloaths hanging on them like a loose morning gown.” Scores of widows and children of the slain redcoats disembarked as well. It was “a most shocking spectacle,” one newspaper reported.
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Thereafter, North mostly marked time, awaiting the annual autumn opening of Parliament. That day finally arrived on October 26, and as had long been customary, Parliament was welcomed into session by the king.