The height reached by the troubles in the army and their menacing character had, however, a good as well as a bad side.  They penetrated the indifference and carelessness of both Congress and the States.  Gentlemen in the confederate and local administrations and legislatures woke up to a realizing sense that the dissolution of the army meant a general wreck, in which their own necks would be in very considerable danger; and they also had an uneasy feeling that starving and mutinous soldiers were very uncertain in taking revenge.  The condition of the army gave a sudden and piercing reality to Washington’s indignant words to Mathews on October 4:  “At a time when public harmony is so essential, when we should aid and assist each other with all our abilities, when our hearts should be open to information and our hands ready to administer relief, to find distrusts and jealousies taking possession of the mind and a party spirit prevailing affords a most melancholy reflection, and forebodes no good.”  The hoarse murmur of impending mutiny emphasized strongly the words written on the same day to Duane:  “The history of the war is a history of false hopes and temporary expedients.  Would to God they were to end here.”

The events in the south, too, had a sobering effect.  The congressional general Gates had not proved a success.  His defeat at Camden had been terribly complete, and his flight had been too rapid to inspire confidence in his capacity for recuperation.  The members of Congress were thus led to believe that as managers of military matters they left much to be desired; and when Washington, on October 11, addressed to them one of his long and admirable letters on reorganization, it was received in a very chastened spirit.  They had listened to many such letters before, and had benefited by them always a little, but danger and defeat gave this one peculiar point.  They therefore accepted the situation, and adopted all the suggestions of the commander-in-chief.  They also in the same reasonable frame of mind determined that Washington should select the next general for the southern army.  A good deal could have been saved had this decision been reached before; but even now it was not too late.  October 14, Washington appointed Greene to this post of difficulty and danger, and Greene’s assumption of the command marks the turning-point in the tide of disaster, and the beginning of the ultimate expulsion of the British from the only portion of the colonies where they had made a tolerable campaign.

The uses of adversity, moreover, did not stop here.  They extended to the States, which began to grow more vigorous in action, and to show signs of appreciating the gravity of the situation and the duties which rested upon them.  This change and improvement both in Congress and the States came none too soon.  Indeed, as it was, the results of their renewed efforts were too slow to be felt at once by the army, and mutinies broke out even after the new spirit had shown