Washington had good opinion of one or two of the younger Frenchmen who had come to America, and he welcomed to Headquarters the young Lafayette who had come to learn, not to teach; but it soon was apparent that Lafayette wished to share and not merely observe the Army’s hardships, marches and battles. Washington had to inquire of Benjamin Harrison whether he correctly had understood Congressmen to say that Lafayette’s commission was nominal only and did not cover, even prospectively, the direction of troops at the rank voted him. The young Frenchman, said Harrison, “could not have obtained the commission on any other terms.”
Washington at the moment could give little time to foreigners because maddening doubt with respect to Howe’s objective once again absorbed his hours and shaped his action. In the absence of all news of the fleet, Washington guessed that the British commander was bound for Charleston, South Carolina. Perhaps the British intended to block the harbors in that region, garrison the important coastal towns and then come north again. As it was impossible to move overland and confront Howe at so great a distance, Washington and his council decided on August 21 that the Continental troops should break camp in Bucks County and march against Burgoyne. This involved exposure of Philadelphia to possible attack, for which reason Washington thought he should ask Congress’ approval of his proposed move. Colonel Hamilton was hurried off to Philadelphia with a statement of Washington’s plans and with an inquiry concerning the control of operations in event Washington entered the Northern Department which, said the Commander-in-Chief, “has been all along considered as separate and in some measure distinct.” The Delegates endorsed the plan and affirmed that “General Washington was to act as circumstances may require.”
Within a few hours the prospect of a long northward advance was forgotten. A messenger arrived from John Page, member of the Council of Virginia, who announced that a British fleet had appeared off the entrance to Chesapeake Bay August 14 and that it seemed to be standing in. Washington scarcely could credit the reports. Had Howe intended to sail into Chesapeake Bay, he certainly would have arrived there before now. The next day indisputable reports, reaching camp at sunset, showed Howe far up the Chesapeake. The British General evidently was putting into operation a variant of a plan that had” been credited to him during the winter and early spring. Instead of attempting to capture Philadelphia overland from the north or by the Delaware, the British were to land at the northern end of Chesapeake Bay and proceed northward about fifty-five miles, as the roads ran, to the city that probably had been their objective all the while. American marching orders were reversed; .regiments must turn about and concentrate at Chester. General Putnam must convince the New England States that Howe could do them no harm and that they should put every musket in line to destroy Burgoyne.
Washington felt relief both because the mystery at last was resolved and because the British debarkation would be far enough from Philadelphia for him to interpose his Army between the Redcoats and their goal. The prospect was brightened, too, by fine news from the north. A strong detachment of British and German troops had proceeded from Burgoyne’s main army towards the village of Bennington, in the New Hampshire Grants, presumably to seize provisions and horses. The enemy had been met on the sixteenth by an American force of two thousand, most of them militia, under John Stark. In confused fighting, the raiders had lost thirty two officers and staff and about seven hundred prisoners. British and Hessian dead were reckoned at two hundred; American casualties were put at seventy or eighty.
While the soldiers were in the confident mood this news stimulated, some of Washington’s officers urged him to march his brigades through Philadelphia en route to Chesapeake Bay. They maintained that the appearance of so many armed men might impress Tory sympathizers and those who had been awed by reports of British superiority. Washington agreed and, as his troops still lacked uniforms, directed that clothes be washed, arms burnished and every soldier’s hat dressed with a “green sprig, emblem of hope.” On August 24, the march of the Continentals through the Quaker City was a gallant and, at the same time, pathetic two-hour display of what the troops were and were not. John Adams wrote later in the day: “The Army . . . I find to be extremely well armed, pretty well clothed, and tolerably disciplined . . . Much remains yet to be done. Our soldiers have not yet quite the air of soldiers. They don’t step exactly in time. They don’t hold up their heads quite erect, nor turn out their toes exactly as they ought. They don’t all of them cock their hats; and such as do, don’t all wear them the same way.”
Washington probably was satisfied with the showing his men made. He believed in discipline as firmly as in the justice of his cause, but he knew that the real test went beyond the manner in which the soldiers turned out their toes and cocked their hats. Now, as he marched south, he had more evidences of unsuccessful leadership than of unselfish spirit. Sullivan had attempted to deliver a surprise attack on Staten Island August 22 but had failed. In withdrawing, the Americans had lost perhaps 150 men and had a score wounded.
Leadership had become involved almost simultaneously in rivalry between Gates and Schuyler. After Schuyler had been restored to full command of the Northern Department, Gates had proceeded to defend himself and assailed his critics with angry demands. When Congress found the time and temper for considering the proper employment of a man who manifestly had lost his head, it voted that he repair to Headquarters “and follow the directions of General Washington.” The Commander-in-Chief decided, at length, that the best employment of a senior officer unwilling to resume his old duties of Adjutant General would be to assign him Lincoln’s Division during the absence of that officer. Then came the evacuation of Ticonderoga which was blamed in part on Schuyler. Delegates who questioned Schuyler’s ability made common cause with those who felt he should be replaced because he did not have the good will of the New England militia. Gates’s friends proclaimed anew his military excellencies. The result of a long debate was a decision by Congress on August 1 to call Schuyler to Headquarters and direct Washington to name “such general officer as he shall think proper” in Schuyler’s place—a task from which the embarrassed friend of both men asked at once to be excused. Congress appreciated Washington’s feelings and itself chose Gates as head of the Northern Department. Washington forthwith issued the orders and wished his comrade success; but the circumstances of this appointment were among the reasons why he asked Congress on August 21 to define his responsibility for operations in the department that included the upper Hudson and the adjacent lakes. The day after the march through Philadelphia, Washington was assured “that Congress never intended by any commission heretofore granted by them, or by the establishment of any Department whatever to supersede or circumscribe the power of General Washington as Commander-in-Chief of all the continental land forces within the United States.”
At the beginning of the last week in August reports were that Howe soon would disembark at Head of Elk. Washington continued mindful of the imperative need of strengthening the water defences of Philadelphia and did all he could to draw militia to him; but he hurried on to Wilmington, put his entire force on the alert, reconnoitered with considerable risk and small success on the twenty-sixth, and then moved up his Army so that he could resist any effort Howe might make to clear the road to Philadelphia. Strategy demanded that he advance his most mobile forces, keep them close to the British and harass the foe without exhausting his own men. The main Army should remain perhaps as far as eight or ten miles from the enemy, but the American light horse and some of the small parties of foot could drive off cattle and remove supplies and provisions from the reach of the enemy.
The British covered their front skillfully, kept inquisitive cavalry at a distance and contrived to mystify Washington almost as completely as when the Royal Army had been at sea. Nothing of importance occurred until, on September 5, the British appeared to be ready to start their offensive. The fleet began to drop down the Chesapeake and on the eighth was so far south that Washingto
n was convinced the ships of war were to be used against Philadelphia, via the Delaware. An assault by water was to be simultaneous with an advance by land. The British forces took the road towards Christiana, on the creek of the same name which flows into the Brandywine close to Wilmington. The American commander suspected that Howe would attempt to turn the flank of the Continentals and to get between them and Philadelphia. To prevent this, Washington put the Brandywine Creek between his men and Howe’s and took position near one of the principal crossings of that stream, Chad’s Ford. If Howe was advancing in full strength, Washington would attempt no more than a continuance of skirmishing and harassment; but he would have satisfaction, of a sort, when he knew precisely where the British were and what they were trying to do.
Unless the enemy were held on the Brandywine, he scarcely could be stopped until he reached the Schuylkill. Once on that stream, he might maneuver without great difficulty into Philadelphia. As a defensive barrier the Brandywine had no particular value other than that it was of sufficient depth to require troops to use the fords. The position taken by the Americans at Chad’s Ford appeared to be about as good as any for an Army that wished to be free to maneuver and avoid or accept the enemy’s attack as the contingencies of the hour might dictate.
Early September 11 word reached Washington that the enemy was advancing to Chad’s Ford. If Howe offered battle there and tried to cross the creek under fire, Washington scarcely could hope to engage his adversary in circumstances more advantageous, except for a thick fog for several hours after dawn. About eight o’clock British troops filed into position on the high ground in rear of the ford and challenged Gen. William Maxwell of Lincoln’s Division with musketry and, a little later, with artillery. Maxwell found that a fresh brigade came up in rear of the enemy so he gave the order to withdraw. This was followed by the skillful, partly concealed advance of more British troops to the sheltered ground on the left bank of the Brandywine opposite Chad’s Ford. Howe’s guns soon were roaring across the stream; Washington answered them in kind. Howe appeared to be disinclined to attack. Washington saw no opening.
As minutes passed without the slightest effort by the enemy to cross the Brandywine, Washington and his officers began to suspect that Howe was trying to amuse them at Chad’s Ford while he made his crossing elsewhere. Washington consequently could not have been surprised when reports began to reach Headquarters of a British column marching from Howe’s left upstream, parallel to the Brandywine. Col. Moses Hazen, who was guarding Jones’s Ford, sent word by Maj. Lewis Morris, Aide-de-Camp to Sullivan, that these British were proceeding to the forks of the creek. Washington directed Stirling and Stephen to move their Divisions to a site that commanded the road over which the British were most apt to advance from the upper fords of the Brandywine. Confirmation of Hazen’s report and the wisdom of this shift was forthcoming almost immediately in a dispatch from Lt. Col. James Ross of the Eighth Pennsylvania, who with seventy men had been patrolling the Great Valley Road on the right bank of the creek. Ross wrote at 11 A.M. and said that “from every account five thousand with sixteen or eighteen field pieces, marched along this road just now.”
If Howe had started five thousand men upstream, comparatively few troops could have been left at the position first occupied that morning by the British. Washington’s opportunity of striking with superior force might be at hand: The Continentals at Chad’s Ford and the one directly above it, where Sullivan had his station, must cross the Brandywine and attack and destroy the men left there. The troops were prepared, almost, to plunge into the water when Sullivan forwarded this dispatch:
Since I sent you the message by Major Morris I saw some of the Militia who came in this morning from a tavern called Martins on the forks of the Brandywine. The one who told me, said he had come from thence to Welches Tavern and heard nothing of the Enemy above the forks of the Brandywine and is Confident that [sic] are not in that Quarters. So that Colonel Hazen’s Information must be wrong. I have sent to that Quarter to know whether there is any foundation for the Report and shall be glad to give your Ex’y the earliest information.
Was Hazen mistaken? Was Ross or were the militiamen correct? The individual who gave Sullivan the information in this new dispatch proved to be Major Spear, a militia officer sent out the previous day to reconnoiter. Washington concluded that where there was an unresolved conflict of intelligence reports, it would be rash to assume the offensive.
Early in the afternoon a farmer rode up to Headquarters. He blurted out, in much excitement, that the Army must move immediately; otherwise it would be surrounded; the enemy was coming down the eastern side of the creek and was near at hand. Washington could not believe it. The farmer insisted he was relating facts of his own observation and spoke with so much positiveness that the General decided to see for himself whether the man possibly could be correct. Washington probably had started for the right when messages from Col. Theodorick Bland and Sullivan confirmed the farmer’s report.
The enemy in the rear—the same maneuver against the man who had been outflanked on Long Island a year previously! Ross and Hazen had been correct. A great opportunity had been lost by not attacking the force that Howe had left to hold Chad’s Ford. Sullivan must march at once to meet the column advancing on his rear. Stephen’s and Stirling’s divisions must proceed at a trot to Birmingham Meeting House. Sullivan, as senior Major General “of the right” wing, should direct the fighting. Washington himself should remain at Chad’s Ford, where he could keep his hand on all the troops.
About 4:30 straining ears at Chad’s Ford heard cannon-fire. Soon the stammer of uneven volleys was audible, and then the spiteful bark of rifles. It was difficult for Washington to restrain himself and stay at Headquarters while a battle of uncertain issue was raging within two miles; but he noticed that the artillery fire from across Chad’s Ford was quickening, as if an infantry attack were in preparation. Soon Washington’s concern got the better of his consideration for Sullivan’s natural wish to fight an independent battle. The commander of the right wing should have help. Greene still was in reserve. He must move at once to the right. Washington would go with him. Lincoln’s Division must remain at Chad’s Ford and repulse any attempt of the enemy to cross there.
Off went Washington with his staff and a guide. Behind the General, Greene’s men half ran, half walked towards the sound of the firing. Washington had to ascertain what was happening as a result of a confused struggle around a plowed hill southwest of the Birmingham Meeting House. Stirling and Stephen had reached that elevation and had found the enemy approaching in greater strength than reports had indicated. They had occupied strong ground and almost had completed their dispositions when Sullivan, who had not been on that part of the field before, found his advance guard an eighth of a mile from an oncoming British column. Sullivan was to the left and almost half-a-mile in front of Stephen and Stirling. He ordered their divisions to extend to the right to give him space to form. The change was made disadvantageously. While Sullivan’s men were being shifted they were attacked and thrown into some confusion.
At the moment of Washington’s arrival, the left was beginning to break, and the whole of the line was sagging under pressure by the British. A rout of the Army’s staunchest veterans appeared imminent. So long as mounted officers shouted and threatened close to the front, they were able to hold part of the line together. When they rode back from a position then within about two hundred yards of the foe, many of the men ran off, but good handling of the brigade in the last hour of daylight forced the weary British to abandon pursuit.
At Chad’s Ford the enemy had thrown himself vigorously after the departure of Washington. The troops of Gen. Anthony Wayne and of Maxwell put up the best defence they could, but they had to retreat and lost their artillery. The militia on their left, unassailed, made an easy withdrawal. So tangled were the troops along the road to Chester, that Washington did not get them in order until nearly midnight. Fears that casualties include
d many prisoners were relieved somewhat the next day by the emergence of men who had lost their way or had spent the night in the woods for fear of running into an enemy patrol if they went out to the road. Hundreds, however, did not come back. American wounded had been left on the field where Howe was so little able to provide care that he invited Washington to send surgeons to attend them. These bleeding men, together with the dead and the uninjured prisoners, were estimated at twelve or thirteen hundred.
Washington had lost the field, the lives of hundreds of men, and a considerable part of his artillery. The reasons were plain. There was on the part of the Americans a most discreditable ignorance of the ground. Little or no reconnaissance was undertaken. Neither Washington nor any of his staff or division commanders or colonels of cavalry appears to have known the location of the fords. The Commander-in-Chief has to be charged with being less careful than usual in his dispositions. He was tired or temporarily overconfident or else the instance was one, familiar if not frequent, in which an able man for some unascertainable reason fails to grasp the realities of a problem he normally would master without prolonged effort.
The other reason for the defeat on the Brandywine was an aspect of the poor reconnaissance and lack of knowledge of the ground. “A contrariety of intelligence, in a critical and important point,” Washington wrote about a fortnight later, “contributed greatly, if it did not entirely bring on the misfortunes of that day.” His reference was more specific in one of his letters to Sullivan: “. . . I ascribed the misfortune which happened to us on the 11th of September principally to the information of Major Spear, transmitted to me by you. . . .” but Washington did not permit himself to finish the sentence without making it plain that he did not blame Sullivan for “conveying that intelligence.” In fact, the importance of what Spear had to tell the commanders was misinterpreted by them because of their unfamiliarity with the region. If the American commanders had examined the ground or had questioned informed residents of the area around the East Branch, they could have learned that the absence of British on the road they knew of was no guarantee the enemy was not moving to the right on another road and in the manner both Colonel Hazen and Colonel Ross reported.
Washington Page 61