The Howe Dynasty

by Julie Flavell

  Jane Strachey did not begrudge the fact that the good-natured Balfour’s first duty was to the Howes; the titled wives of the commanders in chief took precedence, and Jane in turn received due consideration. But her patience had limits. On a morning visit to Lady Howe, while the two women were shedding tears together for their absent husbands, Lord Shuldham visited—the same Admiral Molyneux Shuldham who had had to surrender his new American command to Richard Howe. His lordship arrived to reassure Lady Howe that worrying rumors concerning the health of Richard—whom he had seen recently in New York—were exaggerated. This seemed to complete the purpose of his visit. “Lord Shuldham spoke with great civility to Lady Howe,” noted Jane angrily, “but when she was so kind to say who I was he had not the complaisance to say even that you was well.” Thank goodness she did not need to rely on Lord Shuldham for news of Henry, she asserted. Reassuring her husband that she had taken care to conceal her dudgeon, she concluded with uncharacteristic ill humor, “[H]ow can a Lord, and such a Lord, think of the Secretary’s wife?”

  Jane would also find that letters from America routed via the office of Lord George Germain were delivered to Lady Howe as the admiral’s wife at least a day before they reached her. Even Lady Howe’s servants received letters sooner than she, sent as they were, “under his Lordships cover.” But Lady Howe herself corrected this injustice. She arranged a mutually supportive system whereby Lord Howe was requested to report on the health of Henry in all his letters, and Henry was requested, in turn, to make mention of Richard’s health whenever he wrote to Jane.36 Thus, the two wives could console one another with news from America.

  Sharing news was an important component of the support offered within the little community of home-front families. Early in the new year of 1777, Jane generously conveyed to Lady Mary Howe several pages of a letter written to her by her husband Henry. She hoped thereby to give her ladyship some peace of mind, for Richard had been seriously ill in New York over Christmas.37 William had tried to downplay the danger in his most recent letter, but he met with the usual lack of success. Lady Howe was convinced he was hiding something. “[H]er Ladyships fears suspected more,” wrote Jane, “and carried her to the greatest degree of apprehension.” When Henry Strachey sent his wife a franker account of the illness, together with an assurance that his lordship was on the mend, she hurried to the D’Oylys’ with the relevant pages.

  Mr. D’Oyly was out, and, feeling it was important, Jane pursued him to the homes of Lord George Germain and General Edward Harvey before giving up and leaving the extracts with Mrs. D’Oyly. That evening, Jane met Major Balfour, who was able to tell her that her letter had finally been put into the hands of Lady Howe, “and this it seems has been the greatest comfort she has rec[eive]d. I know myself what I should feel in her circumstances, and therefore sincerely sympathize with her.” Jane’s good nature, however, was severely taxed when Mr. D’Oyly refused to return the letter.38 It was probably passed around in a cabinet meeting. Richard’s physical state was now a matter of national security.

  ADMIRAL HOWE’S WIFE, Lady Mary, was not born into the high aristocracy. When she married Richard in early 1758, he was merely a naval officer in midcareer. She was a very private person, about whom there is little record. But Jane Strachey has left a unique portrait of Mary’s life during the War of Independence, for she was invited several times to stay at the Howe country home, Porter’s Lodge. To the wife of Lord Howe’s secretary, this was unlooked-for kindness, and she was grateful. Writing on a visit to Porter’s Lodge with her daughter Charlotte in April 1777, she wrote of her hostess:

  I must say something of Lady Howe and her three amiable Daughters. In high Life I never met with a Character so truly calculated for Domestick happiness, with the most tender and affectionate attachment to her Dear Absent Lord she secludes herself from the world and spends almost her whole time at this retired place with no other company but her three Children, and her time is totally taken up in the most watchful attention to their improvement.

  The girls were deeply attached to their mother, she reported, venerated their father, and were devoid of pretension.39 The three Howe children fussed over six-year-old Charlotte Strachey, to the younger girl’s delight. They took her in the family coach and gave her a heart-shaped locket to wear around her neck “in which they told her she must put some of her Papas hair—and you may easily suppose how happy and vain this made her.”40

  The departure of many male members of British households to wage war in America meant that the women left behind had to assume responsibility for household finances, farm and business management, and other traditionally male tasks. Historians have written about their counterparts in America, but little attention has been given to the experiences of British women during the eight-year conflict.41 Jane Strachey’s correspondence reveals that she herself took full control of the family income once Henry had departed. She oversaw Henry’s rather complex finances, directed repairs on the house in Greenwich, paid taxes, and received and transmitted reports on the struggling Strachey plantation in Florida.42

  And Jane left a similar picture of Lady Mary Howe, who managed the farm at Porter’s Lodge and supervised laborers on the estate. “I never met with any Woman that appeared to me so fit to govern a large family,” she wrote, revealing her unstinting admiration. Lady Howe was in charge of both indoor and outdoor servants and workmen on her “very large farm,” “which appears to me to be conducted with the utmost order and regularity, and which affords the most wholesome delicious provisions for the family.”43 Although Lady Mary was not born a Howe, she had the Howe attributes of personal dignity, self-reliance, and a capacity for management. If she was more domestic than her sister-in-law Caroline, she was also much more worldly-wise than Jane Strachey realized.

  William Howe has been described in history books as a deplorably poor letter-writer whose infrequent communications would eventually be cited by his chief, Lord George Germain, as having serious consequences for the direction of the war.44 Whatever the truth of Lord George’s charge, it bore no relation to William’s qualities as a private correspondent. He wrote such long and frequent letters to his wife that it drew comments from Jane, who at one point noted enviously that Fanny had received a letter of twenty pages from the general; “[H]ow happy it must make her.”45

  Henry Strachey confessed to being intimidated by the active devotion of his superior. He accused General Howe of putting himself and Lord Howe to shame in the eyes of their wives. He went on, “I understand he writes a scrap now & then at his leisure & throws it by, and when a packet [ship] goes, huddles them together.”46 William and Fanny persisted in their devotion to one another, despite the fact that wartime private correspondence was often intercepted and opened. At Christmastime 1776, Fanny was mortified to learn that the Continental Congress in Philadelphia “had the Delicacy to peruse publicly a Letter from Mrs. Howe to the General, her Husband,” probably a message captured from a packet ship.47

  Caroline made frequent mention of letters from William and Richard to their wives, sometimes conveying the contents to Lady Spencer.48 Yet although she wrote constantly to her brothers in America, none of this has survived; her comments to Lady Spencer provide an idea of just how much has been lost. “This is my 6th letter of today besides three or four notes,” she wrote during the tense autumn of 1776, and again, “I’ve been obliged to send letters & notes in abundance.” Her close relationship to the commanders in chief meant that anyone seeking news of America looked to her as a natural source, and she accepted the role of family representative with her customary enthusiasm. But her chief epistolary efforts were on behalf of William and Richard: “I have been making up my American packets & writing almost the whole day, & have hardly head or eyes left,” she explained on one occasion to Lady Spencer, excusing herself for dashing off a letter.49

  While the brothers conveyed firsthand news of the war to their families, Caroline could reply with gossip about their reputations at home
. For military men overseas, their individual reputations required constant vigilance from watchful family and friends. An instructive example comes from General Henry Clinton, who attempted to minimize the damage to his reputation at home after the fiasco of the South Carolina expedition in June 1776. Both Clinton and the naval commander, Sir Peter Parker, had been made to look ridiculous by the affair, and their chief had not spared them. Germain published a piece in the Gazette exposing Clinton’s disastrous decision-making. Clinton, thin-skinned and unable to ignore criticism, sent his secretary, Richard Reeve, back to England to promote an alternative and more flattering version of events. Reeve called on the people who mattered, including General Harvey, the adjutant general (who was soon “broadcasting to quiet critical tongues”), and Clinton’s illustrious kinsman Henry, 2nd Duke of Newcastle, on whose influence Clinton relied. (The old duke, who had locked horns so often with the Howe women, had died in 1768.)50

  Eventually Clinton’s cause would be taken up by his supporters in the House of Commons. But so pervasive was the gossip mill that first it filtered down to the drawing-room chatter of the West End. Clinton had plenty of friends who were willing to publicize his innocence in social circles. Caroline would certainly have heard the whole story more than a few times in a succession of card parties. But she had a more direct source of intelligence: her friend and relative Christopher D’Oyly. Richard Reeve’s first port of call when he arrived back in London was Germain’s office. The American Secretary of State was in the countryside, but his undersecretary, Mr. D’Oyly, opened and read Clinton’s dispatch while Reeve waited. Two days later, when Reeve was finally ushered into Germain’s presence, Mr. D’Oyly entered the room during their interview.51 D’Oyly effectively knew everything that went on in Germain’s office, including the opinions of the American secretary regarding the campaigns and commanders. And what he knew, the Howe women knew, a fact that in time would come to cause his lordship much disquiet.

  BUT SUCH UNEASINESS still remained in the future. In 1776, the British nation expected the rebellion to be repressed in a single campaign. At the end of July, word of the army’s progress finally began to reach Germain’s office. General Howe, together with an enormous contingent of nine thousand men, had set sail from Halifax, Nova Scotia, on June 10, bound for New York. William landed at Staten Island on June 25, and Richard joined him on July 12.52 In the face of the impressive British show of force off rebel-held New York, the leaders in the Continental Congress did not hesitate. On the Fourth of July, the American Declaration of Independence was signed in Philadelphia.

  Londoners learned of American independence in mid-August. The reception was anticlimactic; newspapers published it with little comment. People had been anticipating such a move from the Congress for many months; it only underscored what everyone had expected, that fighting would be necessary to bring the Americans to reason. Germain thought the news would silence the parliamentary opposition, who were so keen to depict the colonists as victims seeking only restoration of their historic rights.53

  Within London’s fashionable circles, the tension mounted. Despite the presumption that the enemy was an ill-trained provincial force, there was no sense of complacency. Germain confessed that he waited “with great impatience for an account of Genl. Howes operations.”54 He probably did not enjoy being importuned for American news by his persistent neighbor, Lady Mary Coke.55

  September of 1776 was the worst month. Fanny Howe’s unease was evident at a tea party at the D’Oylys’. “Mrs Howe discovers great anxiety, which is not to be wondered at,” commented a guest.56 At the same time, across the Irish Sea at Castletown, Fanny’s sister-in-law, Lady Louisa Conolly, wrote, “How very impatient one does grow! It seems such a critical time for one’s friends there!” She confessed her fears for General Howe. Less than a week later, still with a sense of foreboding, her sympathies were transferred to Fanny: “[S]he is in such a miserable state of anxiety that I tremble for her continually. ’Tis so terrible to think of a person suffering what she would do if anything happens to General Howe.”57 Lady Sarah Bunbury chimed in with her sister on her anxiety for William Howe, who had always been a favorite: “I suppose you are as anxious as everybody must be to hear news from America. I own I feel most excessively so.” Reflecting her American sympathies, she added, “[I]t gives one some comfort to think that so vile a war is at least as well conducted as it is in the General’s power to do.”58

  During that most critical month, Lady Mary Coke confided to her journal that those she knew with sons, husbands, or brothers in America were suffering under the suspense, adding, “tho’ the news which is hourly expected may be very happy for this Country to individuals it may be terrible.”59 Almost to the day, Caroline reported to Lady Spencer that Richard’s wife was finding the stress unbearable. “I think Lady Howe’s anxietys & fears are the worst, most black of any of us.” She added briefly that her mother, the Dowager Lady Howe, who had raised three sons to serve their country, was “pretty well.” But the sharp-eyed Lady Mary Coke discerned the elderly woman’s anxiety for news at a polite card party.60

  Caroline refused to budge from London throughout September. “I should have been happy to have gone to Chatsworth could I have flown back,” she wrote in reply to an invitation to Derbyshire from Lady Spencer, but she could not rid herself of the feeling that she had to remain within reach. Two weeks later, she was with her mother at Richmond, declining another tempting invitation from her friend; if she were to receive good news from America soon, it might be possible, but, “as the wind is I shall hardly hear soon enough to give me an option.” Fanny had just called, having received a letter from William dated July 30, she added. Admiral Howe had reached New York on July 12 and was in good health, and more troops were due within hours. News of a military action could be expected to follow. On the last day of September, Caroline sent Lady Spencer the latest: “Lady Howe & Mrs. Howe had letters from my brothers yesterday, of the 15th of Aug[u]st.” There was still no decisive news; “[W]e must patiently as may be, wait for the next dispatches, which will probably be very interesting, & may be expected every hour.”61

  As she wrote this, Caroline could not know that William had already made his move against the rebel forces on Long Island. In late August, while she was staying at Battlesden with her sister Charlotte and her Aunt Juliana Page—“a heap of women,” as she put it—William began the campaign for New York.62 It would be the defining episode of his career, and one that would weave an aura of mystery around the entire Howe dynasty.

  Ten

  New York, 1776

  At 2 a.m. on August 27, 1776, General William Howe was standing at the bar of Howard’s Half-Way House, a plain wooden tavern at the foot of the Jamaica Pass on Long Island. A rough tweed cloak covered his uniform and he held a drink in his hand. Since 9 p.m. the previous evening, he had led a column of ten thousand men through the dark, quietly and cautiously, toward the village of Bedford, behind the American lines.

  Like George Howe’s nighttime advance on Ticonderoga almost twenty years earlier, the British had left campfires burning to deceive enemy lookouts. The advance guard was on the alert to apprehend any stray traveler who might warn the enemy. The slow progress of the two-mile-long redcoat column through unfamiliar countryside was a dangerous move. Obstacles in the road had to be removed quietly, and anyone found still out and about was detained for the night. The British allowed themselves twelve hours to cover the eight miles to their destination, expecting every moment that they would be checked by an American ambush.1 This was the sort of thing William had done before. Now, standing at the bar of Howard’s Half-Way House, he called for a drink before ordering the tavernkeeper, William Howard, to act as a guide through the Rockaway footpath that would lead the redcoats behind the American defenses.

  Years later, Howard’s young son recalled the incident. His father had replied to the British commander, “We belong to the other side, General, and can’t serve you against our duty
.” Howe replied, “That is alright—stick to your country, or stick to your principles, but, Howard, you are my prisoner, and must guide my men over the hill.” When his father continued to object, he was silenced by the general, who said, “You have no alternative. If you refuse, I shall have you shot through the head.”2

  William meant business. Five months earlier, he and his army had shipped out of Boston Harbor, their departure inevitable. All the military men agreed that Boston was a poor base for the forthcoming military campaign. What was essentially a tactical retreat had been hastened by the appearance of rebel cannon and artillery on nearby Dorchester Heights in early March. American Colonel Henry Knox, who had been running a bookshop in Boston just a year earlier, had accomplished the heroic feat of dragging the guns from Fort Ticonderoga through the snowy wastes of New England in December 1775. The British would never return, and March 17 would become known as Evacuation Day in Massachusetts.

  The previous September, Richard had chivied Lord George Germain on William’s behalf, warning that he needed transports right away if the army were to evacuate Boston before winter. In the same letter, he had shared William’s opinion that the theater of war should be moved to New York.3 Instead, the British army had been obliged to decamp to Halifax, Nova Scotia, more than four hundred miles northeast of Boston, because it needed to evacuate more than a thousand loyalist civilians to safety, reload, reprovision, and drill discipline into the troops that had faltered at Bunker Hill.4

  William, writing to Germain, was unhappy that the British evacuation of Boston would raise rebel morale.5 But in the midst of his frustration, he saw the possibility that this might make the rebels overconfident, and thus tempt them into a false move. William wanted to use psychology in his strategic planning. Inexperienced, naïve soldiers were too likely to make much of inconsequential victories. To turn this to his advantage, however, he required speed. He wrote from Halifax in April that the rebel leaders, “flushed with the idea of superiority, may be the readier brought to a decisive action”—the quickest way, he added, to end “this expensive war.” But he warned that if his army could not move quickly against the enemy at New York, the rebels were likely to dig in and assume a defensive posture, thus prolonging the conflict.6