This Day in Revolutionary War History (Patriots Bar Blacks From Struggle for Liberty)

July 10, 1775—With their war against the world’s greatest imperial power still hardly off the ground, the Continental Army assured that it would be fighting with one hand tied behind its back, as recruiters were issued an order to avoid enlisting any African-Americans. The restriction, though written by Horatio Gates, then adjutant-general of the army, reflected the thinking of its new commander in chief, George Washington.

As historian John Carey has noted, “One of history’s most useful tasks is to bring home to us how keenly, honestly, and painfully, past generations pursued aims that now seem to us wrong or disgraceful.” Therefore, though it would be simple to blame the ban solely on the slaveholding Virginian Washington, at the beginning of the war, none of the colonies was particularly keen on arming slaves or even free blacks. (Even the northern ones restricted recruitment of African-American soldiers at first.)

Totally stigmatizing Washington for his responsibility for the order is not a particularly illuminating exercise, either. Far from being simply the army’s commander in chief, Washington was also the nation’s chief realist. Though circumstances led him, at the start of the war, to avoid doing anything to alienate Southern colonies, he would reverse himself on the role of African-Americans in the armed forces not just before the war was over, but before the year was out. Five thousand blacks served in the Continental Army throughout the conflict, and hundreds more joined the new nation's navy.

The more interesting question is this: did Washington's observations on the fighting ability of African-Americans begin an inner re-examination of slavery that resulted in him emancipating all those on his plantation within a few years of his death in 1799?

Aside from the obvious factor--racism--what other circumstances might have led to Gates' initial restricting order? It can also be seen:

* As a desire to limit anything that might drag down the effectiveness of the American fighting force. The relevant section of the order relating to blacks read: “You are not to enlist any deserter from the Ministerial (British) army, nor any stroller, negro, or vagabond, or person suspected of being an enemy to the liberty of America.” Yes, there certainly is something, to modern ears, ironic about “enemy to the liberty of America,” but the immediate context of the words around “negro” seems to group the race as malingers—perhaps, as Henry Wiencek suggested in his study of Washington as conscience-stricken slaveowner, An Imperfect God, the general assumed at the start of the conflict that blacks around the army were bound to be runaways.

* As a reflection of Southerners’ fears in the months preceding the order that the British would incite slave insurrections. General Thomas Gage’s march from Boston to seize ammunition at Concord has gotten all the historical attention for starting the war, but two days later, when Virginia’s colonial governor, Lord Dunmore, tried something similar, the political fallout took on a whole different dimension: by disarming citizens, it was feared, he was weakening their ability to quash slave uprisings. These were not exaggerated incidents: in the week just before Dunmore’s order, several slaves had been convicted of conspiring in such events.

* As indicative of the urge for security that takes hold quickly in nearly every American war. Gates’ order that day also took into account the foreign-born as possible fifth columns: “"You are not to Enlist any Person who is not an American-born, unless such Person has a Wife and Family, and is a settled Resident in this Country." In Massachusetts, Indians were also barred, in 1776, from enlistment in the militia.

The tragedy was, as Ray Raphael notes in A People’s History of the American Revolution (2001), that African-Americans had already fought bravely—even losing their lives—at Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill before Washington had Gates issue his order. And, for awhile, after a war council of Washington’s senior officers agreed that not only slaves, but even freedmen would not be allowed to bear arms in the conflict, it appeared that African-Americans would play no role whatsoever on the rebel side.

By the end of the year, however, Washington had, at least partially, walked back his order, noting that “Numbers of Free Negroes are desirous of inlisting” and that, therefore, they should not be discouraged from doing so. What prompted the turnaround was Lord Dunmore’s November 1775 proclamation of manumission to any slave joining the British cause, and the Continental Army’s own demographic dilemma—i.e., failure to meet its recruitment rolls.

When he first assumed command in Massachusetts, Washington already did not have all the troops he expected. By the end of December 1775, only half his army was re-enlisting. By 1777, as the general understood he was engaged in such a long-term struggle that three-year enlistments would be required, filling army vacancies became harder still. That crumbled any resistance that Washington--or Congress--might have had to enlisting not just free blacks but also slaves.

It is believed that, because of actions such as Lord Dunmore’s, more African-Americans served as loyalist than patriot soldiers. But in at least two instances, African-Americans played major roles in Washington’s two most important battles of the war.

Colonel John Glover’s Massachusetts regiment, which contained a large number of blacks as well as whites, ferried him across the Delaware in the surprise attack (and victory) at Trenton. Nearly five years later, Washington chose the First Rhode Island Regiment--an African-American unit with white commanders--to carry out a critical nighttime attack that secured victory at Yorktown.

In history, changes of heart are more likely to come from several (or even more) episodes than from one single, Paul-on-the-road-to-Damascus one. Washington illustrates the point. He would remain a slaveholder to the end of his life, and even brought his slaves with him when he resided in Philadelphia as the nation's first President. But his thinking on the "peculiar institution" may have already begun to change.

In the closing years of the revolution, Washington had heard two of his finest young aides, Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens, call for manumitting slaves who fought for independence. Washington was not one fast for decision, but their arguments—and what he saw of the performance of African-Americans in the war—may have contributed to his eventual change of heart about slavery.

Washington's last will and testament contained explicit instructions not only for the emancipation of his slaves upon his wife’s death, but also for the education that would prepare them for life on their own. No other Founding Father—including fellow Virginians Patrick Henry (“Give me liberty or give me death”) or Thomas Jefferson (“All men are created equal”)—did likewise.