Poor Gates, with his dull brain turning under the impression that this crowning mercy had been his own doing, lost his head, forgot that there was a commander-in-chief, and sending his news to Congress, left Washington to find out from chance rumors, and a tardy letter from Putnam, that Burgoyne had actually surrendered.  This gross slight, however, had deeper roots than the mere exultation of victory acting on a heavy and common mind.  It represented a hostile feeling which had been slowly increasing for some time, which had been carefully nurtured by those interested in its growth, and which blossomed rapidly in the heated air of military triumph.  From the outset it had been Washington’s business to fight the enemy, manage the army, deal with Congress, and consider in all its bearings the political situation at home and abroad; but he was now called upon to meet a trouble outside the line of duty, and to face attacks from within, which, ideally speaking, ought never to have existed, but which, in view of our very fallible humanity, were certain to come sooner or later.  Much domestic malice Washington was destined to encounter in the later years of political strife, but this was the only instance in his military career where enmity came to overt action and open speech.  The first and the last of its kind, this assault upon him has much interest, for a strong light is thrown upon his character by studying him, thus beset, and by seeing just how he passed through this most trying and disagreeable of ordeals.

The germ of the difficulties was to be found where we should expect it, in the differences between the men of speech and the man of action, between the lawmakers and the soldier.  Washington had been obliged to tell Congress a great many plain and unpleasant truths.  It was part of his duty, and he did it accordingly.  He was always dignified, calm, and courteous, but he had an alarmingly direct way with him, especially when he was annoyed.  He was simple almost to bluntness, but now and then would use a grave irony which must have made listening ears tingle.  Congress was patriotic and well-intentioned, and on the whole stood bravely by its general, but it was unversed in war, very impatient, and at times wildly impracticable.  Here is a letter which depicts the situation, and the relation between the general and his rulers, with great clearness.  March 14, 1777, Washington wrote to the President:  “Could I accomplish the important objects so eagerly wished by Congress,—­’confining the enemy within their present quarters, preventing their getting supplies from the country, and totally subduing them before they are reinforced,’—­I should be happy indeed.  But what prospect or hope can there be of my effecting so desirable a work at this time?”