The first national Thanksgiving was observed by Congressional decree on December 18, 1777. But this celebration was not tied to the tradition of the Pilgrims at Plymouth; it arose from the politics of the American Revolution, and in particular was the result of congressional intrigue against General George Washington.
The fall of 1777 was a difficult time for the young nation. Declaring independence was one thing, securing it another. The war had not been going well since July 1776. Patriot forces had been driven out of New York, and a major British invasion from Canada under General John Burgoyne threatened to isolate New England from the lower states. Another British army under William Howe sailed up the Chesapeake Bay, landing forty-five miles southwest of Philadelphia, then the seat of the Continental government. On September 11, Howe’s army defeated George Washington’s troops at the Battle of Brandywine, opening the way to Philadelphia, which was taken two weeks later. The Congress fled to York, where it reconvened September 30.
But good news soon followed from the north. Burgoyne had believed that Howe would reinforce his invasion with a move from New York City towards Albany. When he learned that Howe was not coming, Burgoyne attempted to move on Albany himself. A series of contests followed, collectively known as the Battle of Saratoga, culminating at Bemis Heights on October 7. Burgoyne was decisively repulsed, due largely to the initiative of General Benedict Arnold. But because of an ongoing dispute with his commander, General Horatio Gates, and the fact that he was severely wounded and taken from the field, Arnold was denied proper credit for the victory. When Burgoyne surrendered on October 17, the laurels fell to Gates.
When news of the victory reached Congress, Gates’s friends and supporters, including John and Samuel Adams, and Richard Henry Lee, took the opportunity to promote Gates’s career. Gates was made head of the War Board, which was to oversee the conduct of the war effort. He was awarded a congressional gold medal, the second ever awarded, the first having gone to Washington. And a declaration was passed on November 1 establishing December 18 as a national day “for SOLEMN THANKSGIVING and PRAISE: That at one time and with one voice, the good people may express the grateful feelings of their hearts, and consecrate themselves to the service of their DIVINE BENEFACTOR.”
The declaration was seen as a slap at Washington. It noted in particular that American arms had been crowned “with most signal success.” Washington’s victories at Trenton and Princeton were almost a year earlier. Washington had lost New York and Philadelphia, and been defeated at Germantown. Forts Mifflin and Mercer on the Delaware were under desperate siege and would soon fall. Washington’s greatest recent achievement had been to keep his army intact after its many reverses. Some saw the politically connected Gates as a favorable alternative to Washington, particularly after the exaggerated accounts of his martial prowess at Saratoga. This was the view of a group that came to be known as the Conway Cabal, named after Thomas Conway, an officer in Washington’s command who favored Gates and wrote a series of letters to Congress criticizing his commander.
Thanksgiving’s eve found Washington’s army camped at Gulph, 15 miles northwest of Philadelphia and six miles east of their proposed winter encampment at Valley Forge. They had been playing cat and mouse with Howe, who periodically had sent forces into the countryside seeking the Americans. But the Continental Army remained intact, if only barely. Joseph Plumb Martin, a 16-year-old Continental from Western Massachusetts who had escaped from Ft. Mifflin before it fell, noted the wretched condition of the committed band of patriots:
[W]e were now absolutely in danger of perishing, and that too, in the midst of a plentiful country. … we had nothing and saw no likelihood of any betterment of our condition. Had there fallen deep snows (and it was the time of year to expect them) or even heavy and long rainstorms, the whole army must inevitably have perished. Or had the enemy, strong and well provided as he was, thought fit to pursue us, our poor emaciate carcasses must have ’strewed the plain.’ But a kind and holy Providence took more notice and better care of us than did the country in whose services we were wearing away our lives by piecemeal.
Washington, aware of the implications of the Congressionally mandated thanksgiving, issued orders to his men that the day “be duly observed in the army, agreeably to the intentions of Congress.” But he issued a separate note of thanks to his loyal troops:
The Commander in Chief with the highest satisfaction expresses his thanks to the officers and soldiers for the fortitude and patience with which they have sustained the fatigues of the Campaign—Altho’ in some instances we unfortunately failed, yet upon the whole Heaven hath smiled on our Arms and crowned them with signal success; and we may upon the best grounds conclude, that by a spirited continuance of the measures necessary for our defence we shall finally obtain the end of our Warfare—Independence—Liberty and Peace—These are blessings worth contending for at every hazard.
Washington knew he had to establish permanent shelters for his men or risk losing the Army entirely. He informed his men of his decision to winter nearby, and that he was certain that “the officers and soldiers, with one heart, and one mind, will resolve to surmount every difficulty, with a fortitude and patience, becoming their profession, and the sacred cause in which they are engaged. He himself will share in the hardship, and partake of every inconvenience.”
Washington also noted that “the power of America alone, duly exerted, would have nothing to dread from the force of Britain — Yet we stand not wholly upon our ground — France yields us every aid we ask, and there are reasons to believe the period is not very distant, when she will take a more active part, by declaring war against the British Crown.” The period was not distant at all. On that same day French Foreign Minister Charles Gravier officially acknowledged the United States as an independent nation. News of Burgoyne’s defeat had reached France on December 4, and the American envoys, Arthur Lee, Silas Deane, and Benjamin Franklin, had made the most of it. News of Burgoyne’s defeat “occasioned as much general Joy in France as if it had been a Victory of their own Troops over their own Enemies,” they noted. King Louis XVI of France said he desired that Franco-American amity “subsist forever.”
On December 18, in Cambridge, the defeated British Generals Burgoyne and Phillips, then prisoners on temporary parole, cheekily hosted a Thanksgiving ball. They invited ladies from Cambridge and Boston, who were sternly advised not to attend, and in the end only two did. The comfortable circumstances of the vanquished of Saratoga contrasted with those of Washington’s men. Lieutenant Ebenezer Wild noted in his journal, “We had but a poor Thanksgiving — nothing but fresh beef and flour to eat, without any salt, and but very scant of that.” Major Henry Dearborn, whose light infantry had been one of Arnold’s instruments of victory at Saratoga, noted in his journal:
18th the weather still Remains uncomfortable — this is Thanksgiving Day thro the whole Continent of America — but god knows We have very Little to keep it with this being the third Day we have been without flouer or bread — & are Living on a high uncultivated hill, in huts & tents Laying on the Cold Ground, upon the whole I think all we have to be thankful for is that we are alive & not in the Grave with many of our friends — we had for thanksgiving breakfast some Exceeding Poor beef which has been boil.d & Now warm.d in an old short handled frying Pan in which we ware Obliged to Eat it haveing No other Platter — I Dined & sup.d at Genrl Sulivans to Day & so Ended thanksgiving.
Albigence Waldo, who served as surgeon at Valley Forge, was more fortunate, as he recorded in his diary:
Universal Thanksgiving – a Roasted pig at Night. God be thanked for my health which I have pretty well recovered. How much better should I feel, were I assured my family were in health. But the same good Being who graciously preserves me, is able to preserve them and bring me to the ardently wish’d for enjoyment of them again.”
The enlisted soldiers fared worse. Joseph Plumb Martin reported that “we were now in a truly forlorn condition — no clothing, no provisions, and as disheartened as need be.” For Thanksgiving, “each man was given half a gill of rice and a tablespoonful of vinegar.”
For Washington, December 18 was a day of thanks, but mostly of work. He was busy preparing for the winter encampment. His men had only tents to shield themselves from the weather, and Washington’s General Orders for the day show his concern for their proper billeting at Valley Forge. He detailed the collection of tools; the size and arrangement of the wooden huts for the officers and men; and for purposes of morale, sponsored a contest: “as an encouragement to industry and art, the General promises to reward the party in each regiment, which finishes their hut in the quickest, and most workmanlike manner, with twelve dollars.” True to his pledge to share in the hardship, Washington slept in his own tent until his troops were housed.
Washington was aware of the scheming against him. “My enemies take an ungenerous advantage of me,” he wrote his friend Henry Laurens, who had succeeded John Hancock as President of the Continental Congress. “They know the delicacy of my situation, and that motives of policy deprive me of the defence I might otherwise make against their insidious attacks. They know I can not combat their insinuations, however injurious, without disclosing secrets it is of the utmost moment to conceal.” Yet Washington felt no self-pity. “But why should I expect to be free from censure, the unfailing lot of an elevated station? Merit and talents which I can not pretend to rival, have ever been subject to it.”
While Thanksgiving may have been intended by some as a denigration of Washington, others made it a celebration. The Reverend Israel Evans from New Hampshire, who had been at Saratoga, preached a Thanksgiving Day sermon to the troops headed for Valley Forge. He drew from Psalm 115: “Not to us, O LORD, not to us, but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness.” He recalled the recent victory in the north, and in particular Arnold, who was “as a thunderbolt on that day.” Of Washington, he said, “Oh! Americans, give glory to God for such a faithful hero.” Elsewhere, Virginia Congressman Benjamin Harrison V wrote to Robert Morris, a friend of Washington’s and financier of the Revolution, noting with distaste the scheming of some members of Congress against the hard-pressed General. “I know [Washington’s] Value & would not lose it,” Harrison wrote. “If we do, America will repent it by the loss of her Liberty.”
The plot against Washington did not coalesce. The Conway Cabal was exposed and withered. The Congressional Committee of Conference that visited Valley Forge in January found conditions to be brutal but the fault was not Washington’s, who had been imploring the Congress for support for weeks. In fact he had done remarkably well with the meager supplies he had been given. Later at a meeting of the War Board, the Marquis de Lafayette, noting the presence of the “rascals” who opposed Washington, “embarrassed them by making them drink to the health of their commander in chief.” Gates apologized to Washington, resigned from the War Board, and in 1780 was given command of American forces in the south. There his true military acumen was made manifest in a series of humiliating defeats.
The Continental Congress continued the tradition of annual Thanksgiving decrees through 1784. And George Washington finally made the holiday his own on with a Presidential proclamation in 1789, making Thursday November 26 a day of “service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be — That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks” for his “kind care” before the Revolution, “manifold mercies” during the war, and “the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed.” On the appointed day, President Washington braved the cold, inclement weather to pray at the nearly empty St. Paul’s Church in New York, and then provided funds for “provisions and beer” to prisoners confined for debt in the city jail.
— NRO contributor James S. Robbins is the director of the International Security Studies Program at Trinity Washington, senior fellow in national security at the American Foreign Policy Council, and author of Last in Their Class: Custer, Picket and the Goats of West Point. He’s written on Thanksgiving here and here and here.