However, once Gates had ceased to be his patron, Wilkinson was left with only one general higher in rank to charm, and almost as a reflex he began to try to win over the unbending figure of George Washington. Although obviously a member of Gates’s entourage, Wilkinson took steps to show his loyalty to the commander in chief. In agreeing to resolve his quarrel with Stirling, he let Clement Biddle know that he was guided by Washington’s public disapproval of dueling among his officers. Then on March 3, he publicly renounced the promotion to brigadier general that Gates had procured for him.
His reward was to be summoned to an interview with the commander in chief, where he was able to demonstrate that, as Washington himself had believed, he “was rather doing an act of justice than committing an act of infidelity” in quoting from Conway’s letter. The difficulty was that he had not quoted it accurately. To demonstrate the point, Washington showed Wilkinson the entire file of correspondence concerning the cabal, including Gates’s letter accusing Wilkinson of “a wicked forgery” and demanding that he be “exemplarily punished” for a crime that amounted to “positive treason.”
“He seemed a good deal surprized at G[ate]s’s Letters,” Washington commented laconically to Stirling, “& was not at all sparing in his abuse of him & C[onwa]y.”
In fact, the discovery that Gates had turned so viciously against him overwhelmed Wilkinson. He hurried back to Reading to be consoled by Nancy and, while there, came to a momentous decision about his military career. In a short, cold letter sent from the Biddles’ house on March 29 to Henry Laurens, president of Congress, he peremptorily resigned from the Board of War, declaring, “After the act of treachery and falsehood in which I have detected Major General Gates, president of that board, it is impossible for me to reconcile it to my honor to serve with him.” Coolly, Laurens advised Congress to accept the resignation, but returned the letter as “improper to remain on the files of Congress.”
Had that been the end of the relationship, it would at least have been a clean break. But almost four months later, Wilkinson inadvertently encountered Gates as both men arrived in White Plains, New York, to give testimony on behalf of General Arthur St. Clair at his court-martial for the loss of Ticonderoga. The sight of the man who had termed him a forger ignited Wilkinson’s smoldering fury, and again his dying father’s words about honor sprang to mind. This time Gates accepted the challenge and fought the duel. Each was to fire three times, but when Gates’s pistol twice flashed in the pan and misfired, Wilkinson shot in the air, an action that should have satisfied honor on both sides. Gates refused to fire a third time and duly declared that Wilkinson had “behaved as a gentleman.”
By the conventions of dueling that was sufficient to satisfy honor, but Wilkinson wanted more. He demanded to have the declaration in writing, and when it was given, refused to provide a similar certificate for Gates. Next day, both men with their seconds, the engineer Tadeusz Kosciuszko for Gates and John Barker Church for Wilkinson, assembled in the courthouse to settle the matter, and at that point Wilkinson exploded. To provide such a certificate, he shouted, would be “to prostitute my honor” because Gates was no better than “a rascal and a coward,” and in a frenzy of indignation he challenged the general to yet another duel.
Gates walked away from a man so clearly out of control, but now the seconds began to argue over the certificate and the quarrel rapidly descended into farce. Kosciuszko and Church were also supposed to appear for St. Clair’s defense, but pushed each other aside trying to enter the courtroom at the same time. In their fury they drew their swords and began to fight until driven off by guards. Despite the absence of his homicidal witnesses, St. Clair was cleared of all charges against him.
There was an edge of hysteria in James Wilkinson’s uncontrollable rage, as though what Gates had done to him was so unbearable he had to be blotted out. But the urge to destroy Gates had only succeeded in destroying his own desire for military glory. When he finally recovered his composure, his career as an officer in the Revolutionary War was at an end. He had neither command nor patron, and too much pride to seek either again.
He had trusted Gates and, in his own mind, been betrayed, and the experience had erased a small but curiously childlike innocence.
6
LOVE AND INDEPENDENCE
ON NOVEMBER 12, 1778, Colonel James Wilkinson married Miss Ann Biddle at an Episcopalian ceremony in Christ Church, Philadelphia’s most fashionable church. The place and the denomination signified that Nancy Biddle was prepared to be expelled from the Society of Friends for breaking its rule against marrying one of “the world’s people” rather than a Friend. Her brothers, Clement and Owen, both military officers, had suffered the same fate for flouting the Quaker doctrine of pacifism. Nevertheless, it cannot have been an easy decision for someone who, for all her high spirits, needed to be surrounded by familiar faces and close friends. Her parents and two sisters remained Quakers, while Owen secured readmission after the war. For years Nancy retained her Quaker speech with its thee and thy, even after she had left Philadelphia. But being married to “my beloved Jimmy” ensured a lifelong exile from the calm and quiet in which she had been reared.
The wedding also forced her nominally Episcopalian husband to enter a different world. Hitherto he had had to follow the spartan lifestyle of a U.S. army officer, and, before that, of the son of a near-bankrupt. By marrying into the Biddle family, James Wilkinson exchanged this pinched existence for a world of mouthwatering financial prospects.
The decision of the British general William Howe to withdraw from Philadelphia in June 1778 allowed the wedding to take place in the city. The British retreat also enabled John Biddle to regain ownership of his house and other enterprises in the city, including the badly damaged Indian King, renamed by the invaders the British Tavern. One of Wilkinson’s first civilian jobs was to help his father-in- law take control of his business once more. But the scope for making real money came from the fierce turf war that was fought for political control of the evacuated city.
It was won by the Constitutionalists, an egalitarian alliance of Presbyterians from western Pennsylvania and radical Whigs, who earned their name by their ideological commitment to the state’s one-man, one-vote constitution. Having spent the months of British occupation in hungry exile while others remained in the city and grew rich under enemy protection, the Constitutionalists returned to Philadelphia determined on both democracy and restitution. The program had broad appeal, not just to frontier farmers and politicians, but to mainstream families such as the Biddles, and to young professionals such as Wilkinson’s medical friend Dr. James Hutchinson.
The Constitutionalists’ leader, Joseph Reed, was elected president of the Pennsylvania supreme executive council in December. At once he began to hunt out Tory sympathizers, both among the large Loyalist population who had actively collaborated with the British, and among pacifist Quakers and moderate patriots who had simply accepted occupation. Acts of attainder were issued against almost five hundred people suspected of helping the British, requiring them to stand trial or risk confiscation of their property, and everyone holding public office was ordered to take an oath of loyalty to the Pennsylvania constitution.