The senior Mr. Gansevoort was himself a military man. He had been
engaged in the last war between France and England, prior to the period
now spoken of, which, as is well known, was prosecuted with no
inconsiderable warmth on this continent. He had held the rank of colonel
in the British service, and acquitted himself with credit; and although
now unfitted for a military life, his zeal in the royal cause was none
the less ardent. His acquaintance among the English officers resident in
New York was extensive, and for several of them his house was a place of
frequent resort. Sir William Howe himself was occasionally seen at his
table. Among his most frequent visiters, however, was Sir Philip Bender,
a gentleman who held the rank of major in the army, but who had seen no
actual service. He had come to this country in the _suite_ of Lord Howe,
and was supposed to be secretly connected with the mission of that
nobleman, and Sir William, to establish peace by negotiation. Profligate
and unprincipled, he was a fit agent for some of those disgraceful
schemes which were set on foot by the British government, to acquire by
fraud what they could not gain by conquest. Major Bender had early
manifested a partiality for Miss Gansevoort, nor was either the colonel
or his daughter left long in doubt as to his wishes. To the one he was
as acceptable as to the other odious. Yet another individual, whom it is
necessary to introduce to the reader, was a young American, who had
attached himself warmly to the royal cause, and who held an ensign’s
commission in the army. To say that Edward Wiley was a friend and
confidant of Sir Philip may perhaps be a sufficient indication of his
character. In boyhood he had been a companion and schoolmate of young
Gansevoort, but even at that age his conduct had been characterized by
cunning and deceit. There were of course others among the officers with
whom Gansevoort now found himself in occasional communication, who were
in every respect worthy and excellent men. From these, as well as from
those first named, he met with frequent solicitations to enter the army;
and although it was no difficult matter resolutely to decline the
alluring offers that were held out to him, the necessity of concealing
his sentiments was a source of continual pain and mortification.
Suspicion was already aroused, and if confirmed might lead to his
detention. He therefore prepared to depart. Convinced that it would be
unsafe to acquaint his father with his intentions, he resolved that he
should learn them first from the camp of the enemy. Nearly a fortnight
had now elapsed since his arrival, nor had De Zeng allowed the time to
pass entirely unimproved. Occasional opportunities were afforded him of
interviews with Ellen, which had resulted on his part in the fullest
confirmation of his first impressions. Unfortunately, however, Count De
Zeng knew but little of the female character, and hardly daring to hope
for a prize which he valued so highly, he construed reserve into
aversion, and failed to discover any sufficient encouragement in the
conduct of Miss Gansevoort, to justify a direct avowal of his feelings.
Thus, unfortunately, they parted; each uncertain of the other’s
sentiments, but both painfully conscious of their own.
The theatre of war at this period was exclusively in New Jersey. But war
in reality there was none. That celebrated campaign of Washington, by
which, with an inferior and enfeebled army, he had driven Howe and
Cornwallis from almost all their strong-holds in that state, had drawn
to a close. The severity of the season was an effectual bar to further
military operations, and by tacit consent, hostilities, with the
exception of a few slight and occasional skirmishes, were suspended. The
quarters of the American commander-in-chief were at Elizabethtown, and
thither, without delay, Gansevoort and De Zeng repaired. The reader may
perhaps be aware that the time now spoken of was that critical period of
the war, in which, for the sake of the common safety, Congress had
invested General Washington with a degree of dictatorial authority.
Among other plenary powers, he had been authorized to levy and organize
a very large force, in addition to those already in existence, and to
appoint and remove all officers under the rank of brigadier-general.
Franklin had not failed of his promise to commend Gansevoort to the
special attention of the commander-in-chief, nor was a recommendation
from so high a quarter ineffectual. Both himself and friend immediately
received a colonel’s commission in a regiment of light-horse, of which
several were then being formed, but which were not designed for service
until the ensuing spring. In a skirmish which soon after took place
between a small party of the Americans under Gansevoort, and a foraging,
or rather pillaging party of the enemy, the young officer displayed so
extraordinary a degree of skill and courage as to elicit the particular
commendation of Washington. It led to an unexpected result. The
commandant at Fort Constitution had signified his desire to retire
temporarily from that station, by reason of ill health; but it was
difficult, at that juncture, to supply his place. Washington would have
offered it, unhesitatingly, to Count De Zeng, who, although scarcely
twenty-six years of age, had brought with him a distinguished military
reputation from abroad, but he could not conceal from himself the fact
that there was a growing dissatisfaction among the people, at the number
of foreigners already promoted in the army. The appointment was to be
but temporary. The fort, completely garrisoned, was considered entirely
invulnerable, and could be safely entrusted to any officer of integrity
and common skill. He resolved to place it in the hands of Gansevoort,
and, in order that the latter might be able to have the advantage, if
necessary, of a larger experience than his own, signified his desire
that the count should accompany his friend. It is needless to say that
this arrangement was most acceptable to both. It led to results but
little anticipated.