Proceedings of the New York Historical Association [1906]. New York State Historical Association. Meeting
![Proceedings of the New York Historical Association [1906] - New York State Historical Association. Meeting](limg_read866290.jpg "Proceedings of the New York Historical Association [1906] - New York State Historical Association. Meeting")
glory that is linked with the name of Washington at Yorktown were not his. Neither had he the methodical madness of Wayne, the pusillanimity of the self-seeking Gates, the recklessness of Putnam, nor the aestheistic fatalism of Ethan Allan; none of these things had Sullivan to carve his picture on men's memory.
It may not be out of place here to give a short chronology of this man's life.
He was born in Summerworth, N. H., in 1740. His parents were well-to-do emigrants from Ireland. He studied law and was a member of the first Congress, 1774. Was made Brigadier General 1775. In 1776 he superseded Arnold in Canada. Then he succeeded General Greene and was taken prisoner. He was exchanged in November. In 1777 he took part in the battle of Brandywine, Germantown, and 1778 he commanded in Rhode Island. In 1779 he led the expedition against the Indians. He then resigned from the army and took up again the practice of law. He was a member of the State constitutional convention, then he was elected a member of Congress, and in '86, '87, '89 was president of his State. Later, in 1789, he was appointed District Judge, and died in 1795 at the age of 54 years.
His personal characteristics are said to be that he was a dignified, genial and amiable man. He displayed a fine courtesy to those about him, both to his soldiers and compatriot generals.
I quote the following paragraph from A. Tiffany Norton, who I believe to be the one who has written the best account of the Indian campaign, and it is a wonder to me that one who shows so broad a grasp of history and its essential principles and the elements that make for historical research, has never written more than he has.
Norton, in his general description of Sullivan, says: "His eyes were keen and dark, his hair curly black, his form erect, his movements full of energy and grace. His height was five feet nine inches, and a slight corpulency when in his prime gave but an added grace. General Sullivan was a man of undoubted courage, warmth of temperament and independent spirit equaled only by his patriotic devotion to his country's cause and his zeal in all public affairs." Doubtless he was too impatient and outspoken and may have been deserving of some measure of blame, still his faults should not have detracted from that meed of praise to which he was justly entitled. Neither should the jealousies of his brothers in arms, which prompted them to ridicule his achievements, question his reports and detract from his hard-earned laurels, have weight with the historian. Yet such has been, in great degree, the case, and the name of Sullivan occupies a lesser space in the history of the Revolutionary struggle, than those of many others whose achievements fell far short of his in magnitude and importance. Sullivan has been made the victim of the intrigues and petty jealousies of his times, and while for this his own indiscretions may justly be blamed, the duty is none the less incumbent on the present generation to render due homage to one who is a brave soldier and a devoted, disinterested, self-sacrificing patriot. As Amory has justly said: "A friend of Washington, Greene, Lafayette, and all the noblest statesmen and generals of the war, whose esteem for him was universally known, to whom his own attachment never wavered, he will be valued for his high integrity and steadfast faith, his loyal and generous character, his enterprise and vigor in command, his readiness to assume responsibility, his courage and coolness in emergencies, his foresight for providing for all possible contingencies of campaign or battle-field, and his calmness when the results became adverse."
Could the character of Sullivan be fairly said to be that of a great man? Does he measure up to "bigness?" Remember a little man seldom does big things. Briefly, what did he do in this Indian campaign? At the beginning of the Revolution there was a democracy of six confederate states within the present boundaries of our own municipality. So strong had this democracy grown that it dominated the inhabitants of a territory of more than a million square miles. Their battle-cry was heard from the Kennebec to Lake Superior, and under the very fortifications of Quebec they annihilated the Huron.
Their orators were fit to rank with any that we have to-day. Their legends are the legends of a people whose souls were filled with poetry. Their military tactics were those of a people trained for war—successful war. Man to man, they were what no other barbarians have been, a match for the white man. They held the gateway to the West and their position made them umpires between the mighty nations of the Old World who were struggling for the possession of the New. Civilized in a sense they were, but they were barbarians too, and savages to their very heart of hearts. Rapacious, treacherous, cruel beyond belief—they were dreaded alike by friend and foe. Their home was a terra incognita. No colonist had trodden it. From no peak had trapper looked across the profile of their land. Their numbers were unknown and could only be guessed at by their achievements—and these were terrible.
How silly of Gordon to criticize Sullivan for over-manning his expedition. Darkest Africa is better known to-day than was then the land of the Iroquois. They were re-enforced by British regulars, by fanatical Tories; they were led by white men, and one of their leaders was a thorough Indian and thoroughly educated in the white man's lore.
Among this people and into this terra incognita came Sullivan and smote them hip and thigh. He conquered them to the uttermost. He broke down the gateway to the mighty West. With a miserable commissariat, he invaded an unknown country and forever destroyed a democracy that had ruled for five hundred years.
The Indians conquered by Wayne were but a frazzle of the Six Nations united with Indians farther West.
Little men do little things, big men do big things, and great men do great things. Before Sullivan vanished
"that savage senate at the Lake, By the salt marshes, yonder in the north, Dull-visaged butchers, coarsely blanketed Squatted in a ring by their dark Council House And with strange mumery of pipes and belts Decreeing, coldly, death—forever death."
The strongest are the gentlest. It is related that having found an Indian woman too old and feeble to retreat with her people, that Sullivan left her with a plentiful supply of provisions, though, as one of the party writes, "we only had half a ration every other day ourselves."
It is not my province to put forth a brief for General Sullivan, yet that one incident cast a side-light on his character that impressed me more as to the true lovely heartiness of the man than anything I have found. Constancy to a friend is an attribute to those who approach greatness. After the Indian war Sullivan was reviled unmercifully for the devastation wrought by him in the Indian country. Out of his love for General Washington he suffered in silence, while he had in his possession General Washington's written instructions to do exactly as he had done.
Perchance for a good man some would even dare to die. But what of a man whose friendship holds so strong that he may see that which is dearer to him than life—his character—filched from him, and lest he should harm a friend, allow his enemies to do with that character as they wished.
Probably no historian ever lived who could write more wrong history than Benjamin Lossing, who accuses Sullivan of carelessness and want of vigilance as a commanding officer and mentions Bedford and Brandywine. Nothing could be farther from the truth. At Bedford he withdrew his forces because the French Navy would not support him, and it was out of the question to remain in the position he had taken up. We have John Fiske's word for it that Brandywine was a drawn battle.
Of energy he had a plenty. It is on record that after he and General Clinton united (and Clinton was no sluggard) his Division time and again out-marched that of Clinton. At one time he broke road across nine miles of swamp while Clinton following him had to camp in the middle of the morass. So difficult was the morass that the Indian spies who had been watching his advance never dreamed that he would attempt the passage of the swamp, and withdrew to their camps. So confident were the Tories and Indians, that when he emerged from the swamp their campfires were still burning.
Right here is a place to say a word about General Sullivan's veracity. After his return from conquering the Six Nations he reported that he had destroyed forty villages, and his detractors could not find but eighteen. It at last developed that when his subordinates had reported destroying a group of buildings he most naturally supposed that it was an Indian village, and so put it down in his report.
It has been said of him that he resigned from the army out of spite. Well, if he did, he was perhaps blamable. But we should remember that he was dealing with a Continental Congress