Captain Fitzpatrick was evidently one of the officers with whom Rush spoke. “Their Principal Surgeon, a very clever fellow who was a Member of Congress, & who came in with a flag of truce to visit the wounded prisoners, a few days after the engagement spoke with the greatest confidence, acknowledged the defeat to have been complete,” Fitzpatrick told his brother. The Guards camp was only a few hundred yards east of Dilworth, where the main hospital was located.
Most revealing to Fitzpatrick, though, was Rush's attitude about the effect of the defeat on the American cause. Rush “declared that all possibility of accommodation much less of satisfaction was as remote the day after the battle as it ever had been since the declaration of independency; before which they all (both whigs & tories,) agree that a few concessions on our side would have put an end to the whole business.”20
Spirits were, indeed, still high among the die-hard rebels. “Those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom, must, like men, undergo the fatigues of supporting it,” began an essay written the day after Brandywine. “The event of yesterday was one of those kind of alarms which is just sufficient to rouse us to duty, without being of consequence enough to depress our fortitude.”
The essay appeared in the Philadelphia papers shortly afterward. “It is not a field of a few acres of ground, but a cause, that we are defending,” the writer reminded his readers, “and whether we defeat the enemy in one battle, or by degrees, the consequences will be the same.” Reflecting on the desperate days of Trenton and Princeton, he told them, “Look back at the events of last winter and the present year, there you will find that the enemy's successes always contributed to reduce them,” and recalled, “Howe has been once on the banks of the Delaware, and from thence driven back with loss and disgrace: and why not be again driven from the Schuylkill?”
“Shall a band of ten or twelve thousand robbers, who are this day fifteen hundred or two thousand men less in strength than they were yesterday, conquer America, or subdue even a single state?” he asked rhetorically. “Men who are sincere in defending their freedom, will always feel concern at every circumstance which seems to make against them…. But the dejection lasts only for a moment; they soon rise out of it with additional vigor; the glow of hope, courage and fortitude, will, in a little time, supply the place of every inferior passion, and kindle the whole heart into heroism.”
“I close this paper with a short address to General Howe,” this former English tax collector, a recent immigrant, poignantly stated. “You, sir, are only lingering out the period that shall bring with it your defeat,” he warned the general. “We know the cause which we are engaged in, and though a passionate fondness for it may make us grieve at every injury which threatens it, yet, when the moment of concern is over, the determination to duty returns.”
“We are not moved by the gloomy smile of a worthless king, but by the ardent glow of generous patriotism. We fight not to enslave, but to set a country free, and to make room upon the earth for honest men to live in. In such a case we are sure that we are right; and we leave to you the despairing reflection of being the tool of a miserable tyrant.” The essay was signed, “COMMON SENSE, PHILADELPHIA, September 12, 1777.” Thomas Paine, writing what has become known as “The Crisis #4,” had once more wielded his pen in support of American liberty.21
The battle was heard for miles around. “This morning we heard heavy and long continuing cannonading some thirty miles away on Brandwine Crick, where the two armies were engaged in a hard struggle,” Rev. Henry Muhlenberg had written at Trappe, above the Schuylkill River, on the eleventh. His son, Brig. Gen. Peter Muhlenberg, whose Virginia brigade had been in reserve, saw little or no action. The following day, the pastor said, “We received one report after another to the effect that the losses in the American army were considerable. Now prepare thyself, Pennsylvania, to meet the Lord thy God!”
Muhlenberg witnessed something else on September 12: “This afternoon six wagons with guards passed by; they are to take the most prominent Quakers of Philadelphia, who have been arrested, to Augusta County, in Virginia.”22
The wagons were on their way to Reading and eventually to Winchester, Virginia. September 11 had been a very distressing day on a personal level for some of the leading Quaker families in Philadelphia. As the sounds of battle echoed in the distance, twenty-two men were sent out of the city, including Elizabeth Drinker's husband, Henry; Sarah Logan Fisher's husband, Thomas; James Pemberton; and Israel Pemberton. They had been arrested in early September under suspicion of being enemies to the United States and confined to the Masonic Lodge. Now, on Congress's recommendation, they were being sent far away.
The move was based on false papers allegedly “found” by Gen. John Sullivan in North Jersey that hinted at a Quaker plot to aid the British Army. No formal charges were ever leveled against them, but in the crisis, Congress and the Supreme Executive Council agreed to remove them, fearing treachery. “We have been obliged to attempt to humble the Pride of some Jesuits who call themselves Quakers, but who love Money and Land better than Liberty or Religion,” John Adams told Abigail bluntly on September 8. “The Hypocrites are endeavouring to raise the Cry of Persecution, and to give this Matter a religious Turn, but they cant succeed. The World knows them and their Communications,” he coldly observed. “American Independence has disappointed them, which makes them hate it,” Adams added venomously, “yet the Dastards dare not avow their Hatred to it, it seems,” referring to their refusal to “take the Test” and swear allegiance.23
South of the city that same day, after a few hours’ rest, Washington's forces headed up from Chester toward Philadelphia. There was only minor panic as news of the defeat spread. “Numbers of the Inhabitants are removing from the City, but the Confusion and Tumult, is much less than I could have supposed, considering the very Critical Situation of Affairs,” Dr. James Hutchinson, a Philadelphia surgeon, wrote to his uncle James Pemberton, one of the exiled Quakers. “I must however refer thee to the Bearer for News, as accounts and reports are so various, and different, that nothing can be said with certainty.”24
Howe again failed to follow up a major victory with vigorous pursuit. Instead, the Continental Army, though battered, withdrew unhindered and marched north through Darby to the Schuylkill River at the Middle Ferry, where a floating bridge built on pontoon boats was located. There they crossed, leaving part of the army on the west side as a screen. Instead of heading into the city, which was a mile and a half ahead to the east, the troops turned left and marched north five miles up the left bank of the river to the Falls of Schuylkill near Germantown, thus avoiding the chaos and distractions of Philadelphia.
The Schuylkill was the last natural obstacle between Philadelphia and the British Army. It was fairly shallow but swift flowing, even in dry weather, for the water level dropped more than one hundred feet in twenty miles. The Falls of Schuylkill were rapids that passed through large boulders where the river dropped some thirty feet, and before dams raised the water level and obliterated the rapids, they were quite picturesque. The river had no permanent bridges, and until the floating bridge was installed, Philadelphia was directly accessible from the west only by three ferries—the Upper, Middle, and Lower—and by a number of fords farther up.
“The Enemy by the best accounts have lain still this day to bury their Dead, to take care of their wounded &c.,” Congressman Eliphalet Dyer wrote on the twelfth, “but are expected very soon to Move & supposed to pass Schuylkill about 15 miles above this City at a smooth shallow ford way there called Sweeds ford.”25 Most of the Schuylkill fords were narrow and tortuous, winding around on a gravelly river bottom and using islands or mudflats in the river. Swedes Ford was wide and shallow, with a hard, stony bottom, so the crossing was direct, and it lay in a valley that was also wide and shallow. The Schuylkill is surrounded by high hills through most of its path, and many of the ford roads wandered down steep inclines, where a large army crossing the river would find itself vulnerable to a we
ll-positioned opponent. The hills around Swedes Ford were more gradual and provided much more space for a large force to maneuver quickly.
At the Falls Camp, the Continentals rested on the thirteenth, cleaned their weapons, and received new ammunition. The inhabitants of Germantown once again braced for the usual damage resulting from large numbers of soldiers in the neighborhood. “The Army being encamped at, and near Germantown, made it necessary for one to go up there,” Hutchinson told Pemberton. “Thy House was General Sullivan's Head Quarters; I remained there with him till Yesterday, when the Army recrossed the Schuylkill, and I returned to Philadelphia.” Overall, the Pemberton property was spared. “Thy House, Garden, and Orchard, have not sustained any damage, but above 150 Pannels of thy Fence is destroyed, and burnt,” the doctor informed his uncle. “Most of the Neighbours shared the same, (and many of them a much worse) fate, particularly Dr. Bensel, several Cornfields are entirely destroyed.”26
Rumors abounded in the American camp that the British Army could not move because of severe casualties. There was some truth to this, for there were not enough horses and wagons to move the wounded and the army's baggage at the same time.
Howe's forces repositioned themselves around Dilworth, and Gen. James Grant was sent to Concord with two British brigades and the remains of the Queen's Rangers, a unit that had lost nearly 20 percent of its strength in the battle. “The 12th in the morning I was detached with two Brigades, a Squadron of Dragoons and a Provincial Corps, by way of making a forward Move against the Enemy, tho’ in fact not expecting to find them,” he told General Harvey.27
Grant's force arrived at the Mendenhall farm just as Phebe's father had returned from delivering the wounded officer to the Black Horse Tavern. “Well, as I said, he just got the horse put away, when we saw the Red-Coats coming,” Phebe recalled. “One big officer came to ask if there was any way of avoiding the big hill.” She clearly remembered the scrawny British artillery horses, many still suffering from the effects of the voyage: “They had the poorest little horses to pull their big guns, they couldn't pull them up the big hill by the barn.” But Phebe's father dreaded the worst, and “he told the officer he wanted to go to the house to get his hat, and besides he'd left no one at the house, but women and children, and that he'd heard their men sometimes behaved very badly.” Much to his surprise and joy, “the officer turned to a man behind him and said ‘Go guard the gentleman's house’.”
The soldier, a dragoon, galloped to the house and posted himself at the entrance. It was fortunate, for a belligerent British camp follower soon arrived. “While he was there, a woman came with a can, and tried to get in at the gate. He refused to let her come in, but she was a right soldier, and would push in, so he struck her a right blow with his sword. Mother ran out and said, ‘don't hurt her, maybe she wants something.’ Sure enough she wanted milk, so Lizzie took some out and filled her can. We couldn't tell what the man could mean sitting there on his horse, saying nothing. However, after a bit Father came, and then he rode away.”28
The Guards, who had encamped near the Ring House east of Chads's Ford on the night of the battle, “marched 2 miles farther to Dilworth, & there encamped,” Lord Cantelupe noted in his diary. Like many of the officers, the young ensign wandered over the battlefield during the next few days, retracing the course of the action. One morning, going to a spot where the Guards had struck Sullivan's Division “on Brandywine Heights,” he took out his diary and created a souvenir by painting a watercolor of the battle.29 It is presently the only known contemporary image made of this large and important battle.
Later that day, a detachment of the Guards descended on the Frazer farm, about four miles east of their camp at Dilworth. Before the battle, Frazer had sent the baggage of several regiments in Wayne's Division to the farm for safekeeping. By doing this, the colonel had placed his own family and property in jeopardy. The two men who had left the house so abruptly the night before no doubt informed the British of the farm's location. Now, as the Guards detachment approached the house, a mad scramble ensued to hide valuables and evacuate several rebel officers.
As Polly Frazer remembered it, “A British officer, tho’ not the commander of the party, entered and accosted me in broad Scotch with ‘where are the damned rebels?’ In those days when I was frightened I always became angry…. I said to him that I knew of no Rebels.—there was not I believed a Scotchman about the place. At this he flew into a great rage and used abusive language.”
Following the advance party was a large foraging detail. “The Commander of the party (which consisted of 200 foot and 50 horse) now came up. He divided the horse into two Companies.—Stationing them at a considerable distance from the house but so as to completely surround it. They were in great fear that the Riflemen who they had heard were in the neighbourhood should surprise them. They had seen Major Christy,” Capt. John Christie of her husband's unit, the 5th Pennsylvania, “as they came up the hill, go into the woods and knew the American uniform and they thought that he might be one of a party not far off, did not tend to lessen their fears.”
The commander, whom Mrs. Frazer remembered as “Captain De West,” was “a Captain of the Guard and ranked equal with a Colonel,” which accurately describes the ranking system in the Guards. As there was no Captain De West in the Guards, it is probable that the officer was Capt. and Lt. Col. West Hyde of Sir George Osborn's Grenadier Company.
The captain “came into the house just as one of the men was going to strike me,” Polly said. “They had got at the liquor and were drunk—the officers were obliged to drive them off with their swords.” The captain told Polly that “he had understood the house was full of arms and ammunition.” She replied, “I know of no ammunition in the house.” The officer “then opened the case of the clock hoping to find money; he found an old musket with the lock broken off, this he jammed up into the works and broke them to pieces.”
Considering the fact that the British had come across a number of Continental baggage wagons at the Frazer farm, it is remarkable that the entire premises was not completely destroyed, as happened to the homes of several other rebel officers in the Philadelphia region. But the Guards captain did show consideration to Mrs. Frazer, though this was of little comfort to the family, as their home was ransacked. “He then told me to show him every thing that belonged to me and that it should not be touched, which I did.”
Then the army baggage was found. “When he saw the baggage which was packed in chests and ammunition boxes, turning to me, he said, ‘you told me there was no ammunition,’ and breaking them open found only the soldiers clothes. Now it became a scene of pillage and confusion,—they plundered the house—what they could not carry away they destroyed: took the beautiful swords worn by the officers on parade, carried off the clothes, one man put on five shirts.”30
The Frazers owned several slaves, one of whom was Rachel, “a Mulatto Wench, about 32 years old, middle sized, one arm shorter than the other.”31 “While tearing about up stairs,” the British troops “took a suit of plaid worsted curtains I had that belonged to a field bedstead—this they threw at poor Rachel saying, ‘here nigger is a petticoat for you;’ she, poor creature, being frightened partly to death thinking she was obliged to put it on, in her efforts to get her head thro’ a slit became completely entangled to their great amusement.”
All the horses and grain in the barn were taken away. “I had orders to take Mr Frazer prisoner and burn the house and barn to the ground, but these I give you,” the captain told Polly. Furious, she further tempted fate by retorting, “I can't Sir, thank you for what is my own, and if such were your orders you would not dare to disobey them.” The house was left in disarray, and a few smaller items were pilfered, including some glass “cream buckets” brought from England by Polly's grandfather when he emigrated. But all in all, it could have been much worse.32 The Frazer home was spared, as was the family, though badly rattled. But news of the raid did make it into the camp scuttlebutt. “A
Number of Swords are taken at the house of a Rebel Colo. Fraser, & Several Quires of paper Money,” James Parker noted in his journal.33
Later that afternoon, Howe dispatched the 71st Regiment, Frazer's Highlanders, to Wilmington, Delaware, about ten miles southeast of Dilworth. Except for one of the three regular battalions and the flank companies, this large unit of about 1,000 men had been kept in reserve during the battle, assigned to guard the army's baggage. The older and more famous Scottish unit, the 42nd Royal Highlanders (the “Black Watch”), had also been kept out of the battle, its battalion companies serving as the headquarters guard. “The 71st Regiment…having been heretofore composed of three battalions, was now formed into two, marched to Wilmington, dispersed some enemy militia, and found seven iron guns in a trench.” The purpose of seizing Wilmington was to create a point of rendezvous with the fleet, which had sailed back down the Chesapeake. Sir William “had been assured by Admiral Howe that he would have several ships at Wilmington on September 15th at the latest.”34 The British would establish a general hospital at Wilmington and transport their wounded there, where they would then be transferred to hospital ships.
The Highlanders found an unexpected prize at Wilmington in the form of the rebel president of the state, John McKinly, who was home. “Several Circumstance concurred to render my staying at Wilmington, necessary to the publick whilst the Enemy were moving toward Philada.,” McKinly told the President of Congress later, “& being more solicitous to perform my Duty, than for my own personal Safety, I was unexpectedly made a Prisoner in my own House there on the Night succeeding the 12th Day of September last, by the 71st British Regiment, said to consist at that time of 900 Men, who were detached to take possession of that place for the accommodation of such of their Army as were wounded the day preceeding, at the Battle of Brandywine.” McKinly reminded Congress, “I sustained at this time some heavy losses of private property.”35
The Philadelphia Campaign Page 35