A principal instigator in the move to replace Washington was his former aide Thomas Mifflin, now a general. A portrait of Mifflin shows a man full of personality and high spirits who was very direct in manner. Even though Washington had befriended him and named him one of his initial aides, the handsome, eloquent Mifflin harbored a secret animosity toward his patron. Washington learned of his treachery with consternation. “I have never seen any stroke of ill fortune affect the general in the manner that this dirty underhand dealing has done,” his aide Tench Tilghman wrote.41 Washington had already developed doubts about Mifflin, whom he thought had exploited his job as quartermaster general for personal profit, and he later wrote about him with biting sarcasm as an opportunistic, fair-weather friend.

Although he had known and liked Conway in France, Lafayette had concluded that he was a menace to his mentor. In late November Lafayette warned Washington that certain elements in Congress “are infatuated with Gates . . . and believe that attacking is the only thing necessary to conquer.”42 Lafayette didn’t exaggerate. Whatever inhibitions had existed about defaming Washington’s name had now disappeared. “Thousands of lives and millions of property are yearly sacrificed to the insufficiency of our Commander-in-Chief,” Pennsylvania attorney general Jonathan Dickinson Sergeant wrote to Massachusetts congressman James Lovell. “Two battles he has lost for us by two such blunders as might have disgraced a soldier of three months standing.”43 Benjamin Rush and Richard Henry Lee lent open or covert support to the attacks on Washington, while John Adams, for all his dyspeptic squawking, retained residual admiration for the commander in chief and never went so far as to try to oust him.

In late November Congress reorganized the Board of War, and Richard Henry Lee saw to it that Mifflin was named to it. Mifflin then confirmed Washington’s worst fears by securing the appointment of Horatio Gates as its president. Gates would retain his rank as major general and gain a supervisory role over Washington. Leaving little doubt that he wanted Gates to usurp Washington’s authority, Congressman Lovell told him, “We want you in different places . . . We want you most near Germantown.”44 Congress dealt out further punishment to Washington. When he protested that his men were famished, Congress passed a snide resolution, chastising him for excessive “delicacy in exerting military authority” to requisition goods from local citizens.45 As Lovell gloated to Samuel Adams, the resolution “was meant to rap a demi-G[od] over the knuckles.”46

A still heavier blow lay in the offing. On December 13 the Board of War created an inspection system to curb desertions, ensure efficient use of public property, and institute army drills. It named none other than Thomas Conway as inspector general and, directly flouting Washington’s plea, boosted his rank to major general. Not only was Conway vested with sweeping powers, he would be exempt from Washington’s immediate supervision. It was hard to imagine a more calculated insult against the commander in chief. Washington didn’t learn of the decision until two weeks later, when Conway materialized at Valley Forge to announce his appointment. Although we don’t know his exact words, Washington was always articulate when forced to break silence on a painful subject. To Conway’s consternation, he received him with what he later called “ceremonious civility,” an icy correctness that people found very unsettling. Not mincing words, he told Conway that his appointment would outrage more senior brigadiers in the army and that Conway couldn’t inspect anything until he had explicit instructions from Congress. Conway protested that he was “coolly received” at Valley Forge and complained to Washington of being greeted in such a manner “as I never met with before from any general during the course of thirty years in a very respectable army.”47 Washington dug in his heels in self-defense: “That I did not receive him in the language of a warm and cordial friend, I readily confess the charge,” he told Henry Laurens, who was now president of Congress. “I did not, nor shall I ever, till I am capable of the arts of dissimulation.”48

Conway had never really responded to Washington about the notorious note written to Gates. Amid his frigid reception at Valley Forge, he sent Washington an insolent letter that flaunted his true colors. “I understand that your aversion to me is owing to the letter I wrote to General Gates,” Conway began. He then said that subalterns in European armies freely gave their opinions of their generals, “but I never heard that the least notice was taken of these letters. Must such an odious and tyrannical inquisition begin in this country?” In conclusion, Conway said that “since you cannot bear the sight of me in your camp, I am very ready to go wherever Congress thinks proper and even to France.”49 The normally self-contained Washington was so infuriated by Conway’s conduct that John Laurens thought that in private life Washington might have contemplated a duel. “It is such an affront,” young Laurens told his father, “as Conway would never have dared to offer if the general’s situation had not assured him of the impossibility of its being revenged in a private way.”50 Laurens was mistaken in one thing: Washington considered dueling an outmoded form of chivalry. In the end the Board of War desisted from trying to impose Conway on Washington, and he was assigned to join General McDougall in New York.

The various efforts of Gates, Conway, Mifflin, et al. to discredit and even depose Washington have been known to history as the Conway Cabal. Cabal is much too strong a word for this loosely organized network of foes. In later years Washington confirmed that he thought an “attempt was made by a party in Congress to supplant me in that command,” and he sketched out its contours thus: “It appeared, in general, that General Gates was to be exalted on the ruin of my reputation and influence . . . General Mifflin, it is commonly supposed, bore the second part in the cabal, and General Conway, I know, was a very active and malignant partisan. But I have good reasons to believe that their machinations have recoiled most sensibly upon themselves.”51 The episode showed that, whatever Washington’s demerits as a military man, he was a consummate political infighter. With command of his tongue and temper, he had the supreme temperament for leadership compared to his scheming rivals. It was perhaps less his military skills than his character that eclipsed all competitors. Washington was dignified, circumspect, and upright, whereas his enemies seemed petty and skulking. However thin-skinned he was, he never doubted the need for legitimate criticism and contested only the devious methods of opponents. Calling criticism of error “the prerogative of freemen,” he still deplored such a “secret, insidious attempt . . . to wound my reputation!”52 For the rest of the war, he didn’t allow these things to cloud his judgment, never told tales indiscreetly, and confined his opinions of intramural feuding to a small circle of trusted intimates, lest such infighting demoralize his army.

At moments Washington viewed the controversy with philosophic resignation and wondered whether he should return to Mount Vernon. After receiving a confidential warning from the Reverend William Gordon that a faction was plotting to install Charles Lee in his stead, Washington replied ruefully: “So soon then as the public gets dissatisfied with my services, or a person is found better qualified to answer her expectation, I shall quit the helm with as much satisfaction and retire to a private station with as much content as ever the wearied pilgrim felt upon his safe arrival in the Holy Land.”53 He didn’t need to worry. The so-called Conway Cabal taught people that Washington was tough and crafty in defending his terrain and that they tangled with him at their peril. Henceforth anyone who underestimated George Washington lived to regret the error. His skillful treatment of the “cabal” silenced his harshest critics, leaving him in unquestioned command of the Continental Army. The end of this war among Washington’s generals augured well for the larger war against the British.