The British Are Coming: The War for America, Lexington to Princeton, 1775-1777

In late October 1775, London was abuzz with anticipation and tension as King George III prepared to open a new session of Parliament. The arrest of American merchant Stephen Sayre for an alleged plot to “kidnap the king” (207) stirred public curiosity and prompted heightened security. On October 26, the king departed for Parliament in a grand procession amid a mixture of cheers and hisses from the crowd. Despite public unrest, the British economy was thriving, with good harvests, high employment, and reduced crime. The American colonies, in contrast, were seen as rebellious and hostile. George III had refused to consider the Olive Branch Petition and issued a Proclamation of Rebellion in August, declaring the colonists traitors. Britain faced a difficult choice of whether to give up the colonies or to “prosecute a war that would cost more money than could ever be squeezed from America” (209). While petitions for peace were ignored, the king immersed himself in military planning, tracking troops, ships, and supplies with meticulous records. In his speech to Parliament, he accused the colonists of seizing power unlawfully and vowed to suppress the revolt with decisive force, even considering foreign alliances.

The King’s address drew some criticism, but Parliament voted overwhelmingly to support him. Opposition voices like John Wilkes denounced the war as unjust, but lacked the power to halt government policy. Social life in London continued unabated, with extravagant fashion, gambling, and growing public interest in “the American question” (213). Newspapers played a key role in shaping opinion, with many critical of the king and his ministers. Government surveillance intensified, with mail intercepted and rebel sympathizers monitored.

By November, George III was deeply involved in military planning, including the hiring of German troops and preparations for a southern campaign. Despite dissent, broad support for the war persisted among the public and Parliament. Prime Minister Lord North remained loyal to the king, although he privately doubted Britain’s chances of victory. Lord Dartmouth resigned as secretary of state for America, replaced by Lord George Germain, a controversial figure who had recovered from a past military disgrace. Germain took office determined to crush the rebellion. He delivered a forceful speech in Parliament advocating for British supremacy and rejecting American independence. Despite opposition from figures like Edmund Burke, Germain’s views prevailed. Parliament voted down Burke’s peace proposal. Germain was known for his precision and resolve, quickly immersing himself in his duties and coordinating military logistics for “the longest, largest expeditionary war Britain had ever fought” (223).

Reports from America were grim. Governors had fled southern capitals, and rebels had seized arms and property. Northern colonies were also volatile, with loyalist officials driven from power. Germain faced conflicting opinions on strategy, logistical constraints, and difficulties recruiting enough soldiers. Facing an “ugly job” (225), he pressed forward with plans for campaigns in the north and south, including arming loyalist militias and arranging a naval escort under Sir Peter Parker. Germain’s efforts were marked by zeal and an aggressive posture. He approved more reinforcements than requested and earned praise from General Howe. Parliament passed the Prohibitory Act in December, treating American vessels as enemy ships and authorizing their seizure. Germain and the king, however, lacked a coordinated strategy and failed to grasp the strength of American revolutionary ideals or the limits of loyalist support.

In December 1775, John Murray, the fourth Earl of Dunmore and royal governor of Virginia, was perhaps “the most detested British official in North America” (229). A Scottish noble with a history of erratic behavior and expensive tastes, Dunmore had inherited his title despite his father’s treasonous past. Sent to govern New York in 1770, he was quickly reassigned to Virginia, a move he resented. Though briefly popular for leading a military campaign against the Shawnee in 1774, he was soon swept aside by revolutionary fervor. By the early 1770s, Virginia’s economy revolved around tobacco, producing massive exports and debts. British control over trade and fears of losing local autonomy fueled rebellion, led by “planter aristocrats” (230) like the Washingtons and Lees, alongside support from evangelical groups eager to break Anglican Church dominance. After Dunmore dissolved the House of Burgesses in 1774, delegates reconvened independently, forming the Virginia Convention. Revolutionary activity intensified: Militias drilled, boycotts spread, and loyalists were publicly shamed or punished.

Dunmore, increasingly isolated, provoked outrage in April 1775 by seizing gunpowder from a Williamsburg magazine, citing fear of uprisings among enslaved people. By June, he fled Williamsburg for safety aboard a British ship, later renaming a merchant vessel the Dunmore. By autumn, with a small force and still hoping to suppress rebellion, Dunmore launched coastal raids and administered loyalty oaths marked by red cloth badges. On November 7, he declared martial law and offered freedom to able-bodied enslaved people and indentured servants of rebels who joined British forces.

This proclamation sparked alarm across the South. Though it only applied to people enslaved by rebels—not to those enslaved by loyalists including Dunsmore himself—it stirred fears that enslaved people would rebel against their enslavers. During this time, “40 percent of Virginia’s half million people were of African descent—often from cultures with military traditions—and white fear of slave revolts was a prominent reason for keeping colonial militias in fighting trim” (231). Those who escaped enslavement often joined Dunmore’s “Ethiopian Regiment,” clothed in shirts bearing the slogan “Liberty to Slaves” (232). His forces, including Black recruits, won a small victory at Kemp’s Landing on November 14. On November 23, Dunmore entered Norfolk, gaining recruits and support from loyalists, though his proclamation ultimately united Virginians against him in an “an existential struggle to prevent the social fabric from unraveling” (234). Among the many incensed was George Washington, himself an enslaver. On December 9, the conflict escalated at Great Bridge, 12 miles south of Norfolk. American militias under Colonel William Woodford, including Culpeper riflemen and future Chief Justice John Marshall, clashed with Dunmore’s forces. British troops, led by Captain Charles Fordyce, mounted an attack but were decisively repelled. Fordyce was killed, and British casualties numbered over a hundred, with one man claiming that “they fought, bled, and died like Englishmen” (238). The Americans suffered only one slight injury. The British retreated, abandoning Fort Dunmore, leaving behind supplies and their dead.

After the defeat, Dunmore’s authority crumbled. Norfolk, Virginia’s main port town, became a refuge for his forces and loyalists. But with American reinforcements arriving, including North Carolinians under Colonel Robert Howe, rebels occupied the town by December 14. Skirmishes with British ships continued. The situation deteriorated further when British reinforcements arrived on December 21, already suffering from scurvy and short on supplies. On January 1, 1776, British ships, led by Liverpool, Otter, and Kingfisher, bombarded Norfolk. Troops landed and set fires, burning waterfront structures. Rebel militiamen, angered and emboldened, joined the destruction, looting and setting further fires. By January 2, most of the town was in flames. Thomas Jefferson and the Virginia Convention later ordered remaining structures to be destroyed. A commission would eventually tally 1,331 buildings lost: 863 burned by militia, 51 by the British, and 416 destroyed later by rebel order. Thereafter, “Norfolk became a vivid emblem of British cruelty” (242).

Dunmore, blamed for the destruction, had alienated Virginians entirely. His earlier emancipation proclamation enraged enslavers. Notices for enslaved people who had emancipated themselves appeared in newspapers, and Black soldiers captured with the British were punished, sometimes by mutilation or death while “owners were compensated for their losses” (243). Some were sold to West Indian plantations or sent to lead mines. Dunmore, now without a base, retreated to a camp on the Elizabeth River with ninety vessels and thousands of refugees, half of them formerly enslaved people. Disease and starvation ravaged the group, with many dying daily. By early 1776, Dunmore lamented to London that a mere 500 additional British troops could have altered the outcome in Virginia. Instead, his policies had galvanized resistance. Virginia’s convention expanded its militia, integrated its regiments into Washington’s Continental Army, and opened ports to all nations except Britain and its allies. The colony was now fully committed to the American cause. Dunmore’s campaign—particularly his failed bid to free and arm enslaved people—had decisively turned Virginia against the British.

From December 3, 1775, to January 1, 1776, American forces under Benedict Arnold and Richard Montgomery attempted to capture Quebec. On December 3, Montgomery arrived at Pointe-aux-Trembles with 300 troops and supplies, uniting with Arnold’s men to form a combined force of under 1,000. Montgomery brought cannons, winter clothing, and other provisions seized from British stores in Montreal. Despite morale issues and expiring enlistments, both generals worked to prepare an assault on the heavily fortified city. They planned a direct assault due to limited artillery and insufficient manpower for a prolonged siege. Montgomery envisioned a feint at the Upper Town gates and a main assault on the Lower Town, believing there to be “a fair prospect of success” (247). Attempts to intimidate Governor Carleton, including threats and exaggerated claims of strength, were ignored. The Americans also faced morale issues, disease, and extreme cold. Smallpox began to spread in early December, causing “havoc” (249) in the American ranks. While most British troops were inoculated against smallpox, the practice was legally restricted in New England “because of medical uncertainties and a theological conviction” (250). The disease disproportionately affected the uninoculated Americans.

Quebec’s fortifications, though aged, were substantial; Carleton used the winter months to strengthen defenses. Publicly projecting an air of “calm, determined confidence” (254), he organized the town’s 1,800 defenders into four brigades, including regulars, marines, sailors, and loyalist Highlanders under Allan Maclean, a “pudding-faced, Hebridean brawler” (255). New barricades, gun platforms, and lanterns were installed to bolster the city’s defenses. Despite doubts about the city’s readiness, Carleton remained confident that reinforcements from Britain would arrive by spring.

Montgomery’s attack plan, initially focused on converging assaults on the Lower Town, was hampered by troop resistance, sickness, and desertion. On December 30, he finalized preparations and led his troops into position during a snowstorm. Arnold’s column moved first, coming under heavy fire from the Palace Gate area. Arnold was seriously wounded, and Captain Daniel Morgan took command, leading riflemen over a barricade. A second, stronger barrier at Sault-au-Matelot stalled further progress, as officers waited for Montgomery’s arrival. Montgomery’s force advanced along the St. Lawrence River and breached the first two barriers. As they approached a blockhouse at Près de Ville, hidden British and Canadian defenders opened fire with grapeshot at “point-blank range” (263), killing Montgomery, his aides, and several others. The survivors retreated. With Montgomery dead and Arnold incapacitated, the attack faltered. Morgan attempted to continue the assault but was eventually surrounded and forced to surrender.

American casualties totaled 461, with 30 killed, 42 wounded, and 389 captured. British losses were minimal: five dead and 41 wounded. Arnold, wounded but still in command, refused to abandon the siege. He was determined “to kill as many as possible” (265) if attacked by the British. Though he resumed a weak blockade, most of his troops’ enlistments expired and many departed. American morale declined, worsened by harsh weather, disease, and lack of supplies. Arnold appealed for reinforcements, powder, and provisions, estimating only 800 men remained fit for duty. The British permitted the burial of American dead, including Montgomery, who was interred with military honors. His personal belongings were inventoried and auctioned; many items were purchased by Arnold. Montgomery’s death sparked widespread mourning in the colonies and led to a wave of tributes. In 1818, his body was returned to New York for reburial. Despite defeat, Arnold remained defiant, declaring his intent to enter Quebec in triumph. He was promoted to brigadier general and resumed his efforts, claiming that he knew “no fear” (269).