par than a hundred men in the skirmishes* of the detached ties with Morgan's riflemen, he at length retired to Philadelphia, while Washington, weighed down with care and disappointment, led his suffering, starving army through the snow to the gloomy encampment of Valley Forge, there to make up the most sad and touching chapter in our history. It seemed at this time as if Heaven was determined to try the American commander, in the sevenfold heated furnace of affliction, for while struggling against the mortifition and disappointment of his continued failures, and against the gloomy prospect before him, and actual suffering of his destitute army, and compelled to bear the reproaches of men in high places for his want of success, he saw a conspiracy forming to disgrace him from his command as unequal to its duties. What Washington suffered during this autumn and winter no one will ever know. It was all black around him and before him, while, to crown his accumulated afflictions, his own officers, with members of Congress, were plotting his overthrow. Yet his serenity did not forsake him. Con- • scious of his own integrity, caring only for his country, the injurious comparisons drawn between him and Gates, the falling off of his friends, the disloyalty of the inhabitants, and the dreadful trials he knew to be in store for him, could not move him to jealousy, or awaken an angry expression, or force him to despair. All the shafts which misfortune hurled at him fell powerless at his feet. Still he felt for his country. Here was his vulnerable point. Her danger and sufferings aroused all the terrible and the tender in his nature. Much has been said of the Conway cabal, and various accounts of its origin and progress given. The whole affair, however, admits of an easy and natural explanation. A man rising, like Washington, to power in troublous times, will * Major Morris, fresh from Saratoga, was killed in one of these skirmishes. always make rivals and enemies. There will be one class of officers who, having a high opinion of their own merit, will resent any refusal to their claims, and become secretly embittered. Such were Gates and Mifflin, who never forgave Washington for not granting their requests at Boston, the former to have command of a brigade to which he considered himself entitled, and the latter that of a regiment. There are others, mere ambitious adventurers, who, if foiled in their efforts in one quarter, will endeavor to succeed in another, and placing their personal aggrandizement before every thing else, are ripe for conspiracies, revolutions, or any thing that promises to advance their own interests. Such was Conway. There is still a third class who measure excellence by success, and whose feelings grow cold toward a defeated commander. Such were some in the army, and some in Congress, and many in the higher walks of social life. Then each of these has personal friends more or less impressible. Added to all these, there were, in the case of Washington, men of influence who, while they had the reputation of being patriots, secretly inclined to the loyalists, and would gladly seize the first opportunity to overthrow the only man that stood in the way of the submission of the colonies. All these classes and characters remain quiet so long as they see that the man they assail is too strong in popular affection or in power to be attacked with safety. But the moment his own misfortunes, or the successes of others, weaken that popularity, and sap that strength, they combine against him, and what was before mere private complaints and abuse, becomes organized action. By this natural process the Conway cabal, doubtless, was formed. Conway was an unscrupulous, dangerous man, and had joined the army as a mere adventurer. Although an Englishman by birth, he had lived in France since he was six years of age, and seen much service in the French army. He came to this country with high recom mendations, and was appointed by Congress brigadiergeneral. Arrogant, boastful, and selfish, he was especially repugnant to Washington, who, with his deep insight, penetrated the hollow character of the man at once, and would never trust him. He, therefore, stood in Conway's way, and the latter would naturally seize the first opportunity to help remove him. The constant defeats in Pennsylvania, during the summer of 1777, gave great weight to his opinion against Washington's military capacity, and it was not difficult to win over many members of a Congress so contemptible as the one which then ruled our affairs. Still there was a great difficulty in taking the initiatory steps. If Washington could be displaced, there was no leader sufficiently popular to secure the confidence and coöperation of the people and the army. If successful, therefore, in its first attempt, the plot would afterward fall to the ground through its own weakness. But the great and decided victory of Gates over Burgoyne, linking his name with plaudits and honors all over the land, contrasting as it did with Washington's successive defeats and helpless condition, gave to the former the very prominence, the want of which had hitherto brought every thing to a dead lock. From this moment the malcontents grew bold, and the conspiracy strengthened with wonderful rapidity. Gates, an essentially weak, vain man, was just the tool to be used in this nefarious scheme. He entertained no more doubt of his superiority to Washington as a military man, than his friends appeared to, and would have had no hesitation in accepting the chief command. The first thing to be secured was the coöperation of a sufficient number of the superior officers. Congress was already corrupted to an extent that promised success, and the army alone was wanting to take a decided step at once. The officers were cautiously sounded, but here the conspirators made poor progress. The remark which Wilkinson dropped to Stirling, and which exploded |