The British government was making vast preparations for the coming campaign in the spring, however. More Hessians were being brought to take the place of those captured at Trenton. Burgoyne was coming to head a powerful army which was to invade the country from Canada; General Howe and his brother, the admiral, were formulating a scheme which would give them Philadelphia, while Sir Henry Clinton spent the time planning an ascent of the Hudson and a blow at the Highland forts. If these latter could be taken and the stronghold at West Point passed, Clinton could join his army to that of Burgoyne and so split the struggling states in two, neither part of which could lend help to the other.
When Howe began to show signs of life, Washington broke up his camp at Morristown, and took up a position at Middlebrook, where he would be more in touch with the movements of that leader. Once Howe tried to engulf Sullivan at Princeton; again he endeavored to tempt Washington to try a general engagement. But in neither of these did he succeed, and so he began to plan once more with the admiral for the taking of Philadelphia.
During this period Ben Cooper saw quite a little of Philadelphia life. The business of the army frequently took him there, and often he had permission to spend some little time.
Distinguished foreigners, attracted by the struggle for independence, were pouring into the city; public and social circles were besieged by them; demands, highly preposterous for the most part, were made by heretofore unknown persons for commissions; men who had not been of higher grade than captain in the armies of Europe now treated with contempt any suggestion save that which carried with it the rank, at least, of general of brigade.
During the early summer Ben was enjoying a fortnight’s leave of absence with his father at Germantown; and one day he received a letter from Miss Betsy Claflin. He had met the Claflins frequently since the night at the inn at Burlington, and had become very intimate with them all.
“We are to give a very grand dinner at the City Tavern,” wrote Betsy, “and we are to have such a number of distinguished people present that I shall be dreadfully frightened, I know. And so I shall need all my friends to give me courage, and feel sure that I can count upon you for one.”
There was a great deal more to the note, telling him the names of the notables who were to grace the feast, not the least among whom was Washington himself. The time set was but a few nights off, and Miss Betsy apologized for the lateness of the invitation because: “I had not known but that you were with the army, otherwise this would have reached you much sooner.”
The City Tavern was the fashionable place of the city at that day, and many splendid affairs were held between its walls; and so, when the night arrived, Ben spent a great deal of time over his toilet, and made his way with much magnificence to the inn. It was brilliantly lighted; there appeared to be candles everywhere; beautifully gowned ladies and men in striking uniforms, or the courtly dress of the period, filled the rooms.
Ben was warmly greeted by Lieutenant Claflin, Betsy’s brother, by that young lady herself and by their father.
“Hah, you young rascal,” quavered the old gentleman, as he clung to Ben’s hand. “I’ve just been talking to General Greene, and I begin to find out about you. Why have you not told me of your reputation as a fire-eater, sir; why have I not heard before of these exploits of yourself and your friends?”