A SOLDIER OF THE REVOLUTION
Our liberties are at stake. It is time to brighten our fire-arms
and learn to use them in the field. (Marshall to Culpeper Minute
Men, 1775.)
Our sick naked, and well naked, our unfortunate men in captivity
naked. (Washington, 1777.)
I have seen a regiment consisting of _thirty men_ and a company of
_one corporal_. (Von Steuben, 1778.)
The fighting men of the up counties lost not a minute's time. Blood had
been shed in New England; blood, they knew, must soon flow in Virginia.
At once Culpeper, Orange, and Fauquier Counties arranged to raise a
regiment of minute men with Lawrence Taliaferro of Orange as colonel,
Edward Stevens of Culpeper as lieutenant, Thomas Marshall of Fauquier as
major.[217] Out over the countryside went the word; and from mountain
cabins and huts in forest clearings, from log abodes in secluded valleys
and on primitive farms, the fighting yeomanry of northern Virginia came
forth in answer.
In the years between Patrick Henry's two epochal appeals in 1765 and
1775, all Virginia, but particularly the back country, had been getting
ready to make answer in terms of rifle and lead. "No man should scruple,
or hesitate a moment, to use arms," wrote Washington in 1769.[218]
Thomas Marshall's minister, Mr. Thompson, preached militant
preparation; Parliament had deprived the colonists of "their just and
legal rights" by acts which were "destructive of their liberties,"
thundered the parson; it had "overawed the inhabitants by British
troops," loaded "great hardships" upon the people, and "reduced the poor
to great want." The preacher exhorted his flock "as men and Christians"
to help "supply the country with arms and ammunition," and referred his
hearers, for specific information, to "the committee of this
county,"[219] whose head undoubtedly was their Burgess and leading
vestryman of the parish, Thomas Marshall.
When news of Concord and Lexington finally trickled through to upper
Virginia, it found the men of her hills and mountains in grim readiness;
and when, soon after, Henry's flaming words came to them, they were
ready and eager to make those words good with their lives. John
Marshall, of course, was one of the band of youths who had agreed to
make up a company if trouble came. In May, 1775, these young
frontiersmen were called together. Their captain did not come, and
Marshall was appointed lieutenant, "instead of a better," as he modestly
told his comrades. But, for his years, "a better" could not have been
found; since 1773 John Marshall had received careful military
instruction from his father.[220] Indeed, during the two years before
his company took the field in actual warfare, the youth had devoted most
of his time to preparing himself, by study and practice, for military
service.[221] So these embryo warriors gathered about their leader to
be told what to do.[222]
Here we get the first glimpse of John Marshall's power over men. "He had
come," the young officer informed his comrades of the backwoods, "to
meet them as fellow soldiers, who were likely to be called on to defend
their country." Their own "rights and liberties" were at stake. Their
brothers in New England had fought and beaten the British; now "it is
time to brighten our fire-arms and learn to use them in the field." He
would show them how to do this. So the boys fell into line, and John
Marshall, bringing his own gun to his shoulder, instructed them in the
manual of arms. He first gave the words of command slowly and distinctly
and then illustrated the movements with his own rifle so that every man
of the company might clearly understand what each order meant and how to
execute it. He then put the company through the drill.[223]
On this muster field we learn how John Marshall looked in his nineteenth
year. He was very tall, six feet at least, slender and erect. His
complexion was dark, with a faint tinge of red. His face was
round--"nearly a circle." His forehead was straight and low, and thick,
strong, "raven black" hair covered his head. Intense eyes "dark to
blackness,"[224] of compelling power, pierced the beholder while they
reassured him by the good nature which shone from them. "He wore a
purple or pale blue hunting-shirt, and trousers of the same material
fringed with white."[225]
At this point, too, we first learn of his bent for oratory. What his
father told him about the debates in the House of Burgesses, the
speeches of Wythe and Lee and Randolph, and above all, Patrick Henry;
what he had dreamed and perhaps practiced in the silent forests and
vacant fields, here now bore public fruit. When he thought that he had
drilled his company enough for the time being, Marshall told them to
fall out, and, if they wished to hear more about the war, to gather
around him and he would make them a speech.[226] And make them a speech
he did. Before his men the youthful lieutenant stood, in his hand his
"round black hat mounted with a buck's tail for a cockade," and spoke to
that company of country boys of the justice of their cause and of those
larger things in life for which all true men are glad to die.
"For something like an hour" he spoke, his round face glowing, the
dormant lightning of his eye for the time unloosed. Lively words they
were, we may be sure; for John Marshall was as ardent a patriot as the
colonies could produce. He had learned the elementary truths of liberty
in the school of the frontier; his soul was on fire with the burning
words of Henry; and he poured forth his immature eloquence not to a
company of peaceful theorists, but to a group of youths ready for the
field. Its premises were freedom and independence; its conclusion was
action. It was a battle speech.[227] This fact is very important to an
understanding of John Marshall's character, and indeed of the blood that
flowed in his veins. For, as we shall find, he was always on the firing
line; the Marshall blood was fighting blood.[228]
But it was not all labor of drill and toil of discipline, heroics of
patriotic speech, or solemn preachments about duty, for the youths of
John Marshall's company. If he was the most earnest, he was also, it
seems, the jolliest person in the whole band; and this deserves especial
note, for his humor was a quality which served not only the young
soldier himself, but the cause for which he fought almost as well as his
valor itself, in the martial years into which he was entering. Indeed
this capacity for leavening the dough of serious purpose with the yeast
of humor and diversion made John Marshall's entire personal life
wholesome and nutritious. Jokes and fun were a part of him, as we shall
see, whether in the army, at the bar, or on the bench.
So when, the business of the day disposed of, Lieutenant Marshall
challenged his sure-eyed, strong-limbed, swift-footed companions to a
game of quoits, or to run a race, or to jump a pole, we find him
practicing that sport and comradeship which, luckily for himself and his
country, he never outgrew. Pitch quoits, then, these would-be soldiers
did, and coursed their races, and vaulted high in their running
jumps.[229] Faster than any of them could their commander run, with his
long legs out-going and his powerful lungs out-winding the best of them.
He could jump higher, too, than anybody else; and from this
accomplishment he got his soldier nickname "Silver Heels" in
Washington's army a year later.[230]
The final muster of the Culpeper Minute Men was in "Major Clayton's old
field" hard by the county seat[231] on September 1, 1775.[232] They were
clad in the uniform of the frontier, which indeed was little different
from their daily apparel. Fringed trousers often of deerskins, "strong
brown linen hunting-shirts dyed with leaves, ... buck-tails in each hat,
and a leather belt about the shoulders, with tomahawk and
scalping-knife" made up their warlike costume.[233] By some
preconcert,--an order perhaps from one of the three superior officers
who had poetic as well as fighting blood in him,--the mothers and wives
of this wilderness soldiery had worked on the breast of each
hunting-shirt in large white letters the words "Liberty or Death,"[234]
with which Patrick Henry had trumpeted the purpose of hitherto
inarticulate America.
Early in the autumn of 1775 came the expected call. Not long had the
"shirt men,"[235] as they were styled, been drilling near the
court-house of Culpeper County when an "express" came from Patrick
Henry.[236] This was a rider from Williamsburg, mounting swift relays as
he went, sometimes over the rough, miry, and hazardous roads, but mostly
by the bridle paths which then were Virginia's principal highways of
land travel. The "express" told of the threatening preparations of Lord
Dunmore, then Royal Governor of Virginia, and bore Patrick Henry's
command to march at once for the scene of action a hundred miles to the
south.
Instantly the Culpeper Minute Men were on the move. "We marched
immediately," wrote one of them, "and in a few days were in
Williamsburg." News of their coming went before them; and when the
better-settled districts were reached, the inhabitants were in terror of
them, for the Culpeper Minute Men were considered as "savage
backwoodsmen" by the people of these older communities.[237] And indeed
they must have looked the part, striding along armed to the teeth with
the alarming weapons of the frontier,[238] clad in the rough but
picturesque war costume of the backwoods, their long hair falling
behind, untied and unqueued.
When they reached Williamsburg half of the minute men were discharged,
because they were not needed;[239] but the other half, marching under
Colonel Woodford, met and beat the enemy at Great Bridge, in the first
fight of the Revolution in Virginia, the first armed conflict with
British soldiers in the colonies since Bunker Hill. In this small but
bloody battle, Thomas Marshall and his son took part.[240]
The country around Norfolk swarmed with Tories. Governor Dunmore had
established martial law, proclaimed freedom of slaves, and summoned to
the Royal standard everybody capable of bearing arms. He was busy
fortifying Norfolk and mounting cannon upon the entrenchments. Hundreds
of the newly emancipated negroes were laboring upon these
fortifications. To keep back the patriots until this military work
should be finished, the Governor, with a force of British regulars and
all the fighting men whom he could gather, took up an almost impregnable
position near Great Bridge, about twenty miles from Norfolk, "in a small
fort on an oasis surrounded by a morass, not far from the Dismal Swamp,
accessible on either side by a long causeway." Here Dunmore and the
Loyalists awaited the Americans.[241]
When the latter came up they made their camp "within gunshot of this
post, in mud and mire, in a village at the southern end of the
causeway." Across this the patriot volunteers threw a breastwork. But,
having no cannon, they did not attack the British position. If only
Dunmore would take the offensive, the Americans felt that they would
win. Legend has it that through a stratagem of Thomas Marshall, the
British assault was brought on. He instructed his servant to pretend to
desert and mislead the Governor as to the numbers opposing him.
Accordingly, Marshall's decoy sought the enemy's lines and told Dunmore
that the insurgents numbered not more than three hundred. The Governor
then ordered the British to charge and take the Virginians, "or die in
the attempt."[242]
"Between daybreak and sunrise," Captain Fordyce, leading his grenadiers
six abreast, swept across the causeway upon the American breastworks.
Marshall himself tells us of the fight. The shots of the sentinels
roused the little camp and "the bravest ... rushed to the works," firing
at will, to meet the British onset. The gallant Fordyce "fell dead
within a few steps of the breastwork.... Every grenadier ... was killed
or wounded; while the Americans did not lose a single man." Full one
hundred of the British force laid down their lives that bloody December
morning, among them four of the King's officers. Small as was this
affair,--which was called "The Little Bunker Hill,"--it was more
terrible than most military conflicts in loss of life in proportion to
the numbers engaged.[243]
This was John Marshall's first lesson[244] in warfare upon the field of
battle. Also, the incidents of Great Bridge, and what went before and
came immediately after, gave the fledgling soldier his earliest
knowledge of that bickering and conflict of authority that for the next
four years he was to witness and experience in far more shocking and
dangerous guise.[245]
Within a few months from the time he was haranguing his youthful
companions in "Major Clayton's old field" in Culpeper County, John
Marshall learned, in terms of blood and death and in the still more
forbidding aspects of jealousy and dissension among the patriots
themselves, that freedom and independence were not to be wooed and won
merely by high-pitched enthusiasm or fervid speech. The young soldier in
this brief time saw a flash of the great truth that liberty can be made
a reality and then possessed only by men who are strong, courageous,
unselfish, and wise enough to act unitedly as well as to fight bravely.
He began to discern, though vaguely as yet, the supreme need of the
organization of democracy.
After the victory at Great Bridge, Marshall, with the Culpeper Minute
Men, marched to Norfolk, where he witnessed the "American soldiers
frequently amuse themselves by firing" into Dunmore's vessels in the
harbor; saw the exasperated Governor imprudently retaliate by setting
the town on fire; and beheld for "several weeks" the burning of
Virginia's metropolis.[246] Marshall's battalion then marched to
Suffolk, and was discharged in March, 1776.[247]
With this experience of what war meant, John Marshall could have
returned to the safety of Oak Hill and have spent, at that pleasant
fireside, the red years that were to follow, as indeed so many in the
colonies who then and after merely prated of liberty, actually did. But
it was not in the Marshall nature to support a cause with lip service
only. Father and son chose the sterner part; and John Marshall was now
about to be schooled for four years by grim instructors in the knowledge
that strong and orderly government is necessary to effective liberty. He
was to learn, in a hard and bitter school, the danger of provincialism
and the value of Nationality.
Not for long did he tarry at the Fauquier County home; and not an
instant did the father linger there. Thomas Marshall, while still
serving with his command at Great Bridge, was appointed by the
Legislature major of the Third Virginia Regiment; and at once entered
the Continental service;[248] on July 30, 1776, four months after the
Culpeper Minute Men, their work finished, had been disbanded by the new
State, his son was commissioned lieutenant in the same regiment. The
fringed hunting-shirt and leggings, the buck-tail headgear,
scalping-knife, and tomahawk of the backwoods warrior now gave place to
the buff and blue uniform, the three-cornered hat,[249] the sword, and
the pistol of the Continental officer; and Major Thomas Marshall and his
son, Lieutenant John Marshall, marched away to the north to join
Washington, and under him to fight and suffer through four black and
heart-breaking years of the Revolution.
It is needful, here, to get clearly in our minds the state of the
American army at this time. What particular year of the Revolution was
darkest up almost to the victorious end, it is hard to say. Studying
each year separately one historian will conclude that 1776 sounded the
depths of gloom; another plumbs still greater despair at Valley Forge;
still another will prove that the bottom was not reached until '79 or
'80. And all of them appear to be right.[250]
Even as early as January, 1776, when the war was new, and enthusiasm
still warm, Washington wrote to the President of Congress, certain
States having paid no attention to his application for arms: "I have, as
the last expedient, sent one or two officers from each regiment into the
country, with money to try if they can buy."[251] A little later he
writes: "My situation has been such, that I have been obliged to use art
to conceal it from my own officers."[252]
Congress even placed some of Washington's little army under the
direction of the Committee of Safety of New York; and Washington thus
wrote to that committee: "I should be glad to know how far it is
conceived that my powers over them [the soldiers] extend, or whether I
have any at all. Sure I am that they cannot be subjected to the
direction of both"[253] (the committee and himself).
In September the Commander-in-Chief wrote to the President of Congress
that the terms of enlistment of a large portion of the army were about
to expire, and that it was direful work "to be forming armies
constantly, and to be left by troops just when they begin to deserve the
name, or perhaps at a moment when an important blow is expected."[254]
Four days later Washington again told Congress, "beyond the possibility
of doubt, ... unless some speedy and effectual measures are adopted by
Congress, our cause will be lost."[255] On December 1, 1776, the army
was "greatly reduced by the departure of the Maryland _Flying Camp_ men,
and by sundry other causes."[256] A little afterwards General Greene
wrote to Governor Cooke [of Rhode Island] that "two brigades left us at
Brunswick, notwithstanding the enemy were within two hours' march and
coming on."[257]
Thirteen days before the Christmas night that Washington crossed the
Delaware and struck the British at Trenton, the distressed American
commander found that "our little handful is daily decreasing by sickness
and other causes."[258] And the very day before that brilliant exploit,
Washington was compelled to report that "but very few of the men have
[re]enlisted" because of "their wishes to return home, the
nonappointment of officers in some instances, the turning out of good
and appointing of bad in others, and the incomplete or rather no
arrangement of them, a work unhappily committed to the management of
their States; nor have I the most distant prospect of retaining them ...
notwithstanding the most pressing solicitations and the obvious
necessity for it." Washington informed Reed that he was left with only
"fourteen to fifteen hundred effective men. This handful and such
militia as may choose to join me will then compose our army."[259] Such
was American patriotic efficiency, as exhibited by "State Sovereignty,"
the day before the dramatic crossing of the Delaware.
A month earlier the general of this assemblage of shreds and patches had
been forced to beg the various States for militia in order to get in "a
number of men, if possible, to keep up the appearance of our army."[260]
And he writes to his brother Augustine of his grief and surprise to find
"the different States so slow and inattentive.... In ten days from this
date there will not be above two thousand men, if that number, of the
fixed established regiments, ... to oppose Howe's whole army."[261]
Throughout the war, the neglect and ineffectiveness of the States, even
more than the humiliating powerlessness of Congress, time and again all
but lost the American cause. The State militia came and went almost at
will. "The impulse for going home was so irresistible, that it answered
no purpose to oppose it. Though I would not discharge them," testifies
Washington, "I have been obliged to acquiesce, and it affords one more
melancholy proof, how delusive such dependencies [State controlled
troops] are."[262]
"The Dependence, which the Congress have placed upon the militia," the
distracted general complains to his brother, "has already greatly
injured, and I fear will totally ruin our cause. Being subject to no
controul themselves, they introduce disorder among the troops, whom you
have attempted to discipline, while the change in their living brings on
sickness; this makes them Impatient to get home, which spreads
universally, and introduces abominable desertions. In short, it is not
in the power of words to describe the task I have to act."[263]
Nor was this the worst. Washington thus pours out his soul to his
nephew: "Great bodies of militia in pay that never were in camp; ...
immense quantities of provisions drawn by men that never rendered ...
one hour's service ... every kind of military [discipline] destroyed by
them.... They [the militia] come without any conveniences and soon
return. I discharged a regiment the other day that had in it fourteen
rank and file fit for duty only.... The subject ... is not a fit one to
be publicly known or discussed.... I am wearied to death all day ... at
the conduct of the militia, whose behavior and want of discipline has
done great injury to the other troops, who never had officers, except in
a few instances, worth the bread they eat."[264]
Conditions did not improve in the following year, for we find Washington
again writing to his brother of "militia, who are here today and gone
tomorrow--whose way, like the ways of [Pr]ovidence, are almost
inscrutable."[265] Baron von Steuben testifies thus: "The eternal ebb
and flow of men ... who went and came every day, rendered it impossible
to have either a regiment or company complete.... I have seen a regiment
consisting of _thirty men_ and a company of _one corporal_."[266] Even
Thomas Paine, the arch-enemy of anything resembling a regular or
"standing" army, finally declared that militia "will not do for a long
campaign."[267] Marshall thus describes the predicament in which
Washington was placed by the inconstancy of this will-o'-the-wisp
soldiery: "He was often abandoned by bodies of militia, before their
places were filled by others.... The soldiers carried off arms and
blankets."[268]
Bad as the militia were,[269] the States did not keep up even this
happy-go-lucky branch of the army. "It is a matter of astonishment,"
savagely wrote Washington to the President of Pennsylvania, two months
before Valley Forge, "to every part of the continent, to hear that
Pennsylvania, the most opulent and populous of all the States, has but
twelve hundred militia in the field, at a time when the enemy are
endeavoring to make themselves completely masters of, and to fix their
winter quarters in, her capital."[270] Even in the Continental line, it
appears, Pennsylvania's quota had "never been above one third full; and
now many of them are far below even that."[271]
Washington's wrath at Pennsylvania fairly blazed at this time, and the
next day he wrote to Augustine Washington that "this State acts most
infamously, the People of it, I mean, as we derive little or no
assistance from them.... They are in a manner, totally disaffected or in
a kind of Lethargy."[272]
The head of the American forces was not the only patriot officer to
complain. "The Pennsylvania Associators [militia] ... are deserting ...
notwithstanding the most spirited exertions of their officers," reported
General Livingston in the midsummer of 1776.[273] General Lincoln and
the Massachusetts Committee tried hard to keep the militia of the Bay
State from going home; but, moaned Lee, "whether they will succeed,
Heaven only knows."[274]
General Sullivan determined to quit the service because of abuse and
ill-treatment.[275] For the same reason Schuyler proposed to
resign.[276] These were not examples of pique; they denoted a general
sentiment among officers who, in addition to their sufferings, beheld
their future through none too darkened glasses. They "not only have the
Mortification to See every thing live except themselves," wrote one
minor officer in 1778, "but they see their private fortune wasting away
to make fat those very Miscreants [speculators] ... they See their
Country ... refuse to make any future provision for them, or even to
give them the Necessary Supplies."[277]
Thousands of the Continentals were often practically naked; Chastellux
found several hundred in an invalid camp, not because they were ill, but
because "they were not covered even with rags."[278] "Our sick naked,
and well naked, our unfortunate men in captivity naked"! wailed
Washington in 1777.[279] Two days before Christmas of that year he
informed Congress that, of the force then under his immediate command,
nearly three thousand were "barefoot and otherwise naked."[280] Sickness
was general and appalling. Smallpox raged throughout the army even from
the first.[281] "The Regimental Surgeons are immediately to make
returns ... of all the men in their Regiments, who have not had the
small Pox,"[282] read the orders of the day just after New Year's Day,
in 1778.
Six years after Concord and Lexington, three hundred American soldiers,
in a body, wished to join the British.[283] Stern measures were taken to
prevent desertion and dishonesty and even to enforce the most ordinary
duties of soldiers. "In the afternoon three of our reg^t were
flogged;--2 of them received one hundred lashes apiece for attempting to
desert; the other received 80 for enlisting twice and taking two
bounties,"[284] Wild coolly enters in his diary. And again: "This
afternoon one of our men was hanged on the grand parade for attempting
to desert to the enemy";[285] and "at 6 ock P.M. a soldier of Col.
Gimatts Battalion was hanged."
Sleeping on duty meant "Twenty Lashes on ... [the] bare back" of the
careless sentry.[286] A soldier convicted of "getting drunk & losing his
Arms" was "Sentenc'd to receive 100 Lashes on his bare back, & pay for
his Arms lost."[287] A man who, in action, "turns his back on the Enemy"
was ordered to be "instantly put ... to Death" by the officers.[288] At
Yorktown in May, 1781, Wayne ordered a platoon to fire on twelve
soldiers who were persuading their comrades not to march; six were
killed and one wounded, who was, by Wayne's command, enforced by a
cocked pistol, then finished with the bayonet thrust into the prostrate
soldier by a comrade.[289]
Such was the rough handling practiced in the scanty and ill-treated army
of individualists which Washington made shift to rally to the patriot
colors.[290] It was not an encouraging omen. But blacker still was the
disorganizing effect of local control of the various "State Lines" which
the pompous authority of the newborn "sovereign and independent"
Commonwealths asserted.[291]
Into this desperate confusion came the young Virginia lieutenant. Was
this the manner of liberty? Was this the way a people fighting for their
freedom confronted their enemy? The dreams he had dreamed, the visions
he had seen back in his Virginia mountains were clad in glories as
enchanting as the splendors of their tree-clad summits at break of
day--dreams and visions for which strong men should be glad of the
privilege of dying if thereby they might be won as realities for all the
people. And indeed at this time, and in the even deadlier days that
followed, young John Marshall found strong men by his side willing to
die and to go through worse than death to make their great dream come
true.
But why thus decrepit, the organization called the American army? Why
this want of food even for such of the soldiers as were willing and
eager to fight for their country? Why this scanty supply of arms? Why
this avoidable sickness, this needless suffering, this frightful waste?
What was the matter? Something surely was at fault. It must be in the
power that assumed to direct the patriot army. But whence came that
power? From Congress? No. Congress had no power; after a while, it did
not even have influence. From the States? Yes; that was its
source--there was plenty of power in the States.
But what kind of power, and how displayed? One State did one thing;
another State did another thing.[292] One State clothed its troops well;
another sent no supplies at all.[293] One regiment of Maryland militia
had no shirts and the men wrapped blankets about their bare bodies.[294]
One day State troops would come into camp, and the next day leave. How
could war be conducted, how could battles be fought and won, through
such freakish, uncertain power as that?
But how could this vaunted liberty, which orators had proclaimed and
which Lieutenant Marshall himself had lauded to his frontier companions
in arms, be achieved except by a well-organized army, equipped,
supplied, and directed by a competent central Government? This was the
talk common among the soldiers of the Continental establishment in which
John Marshall was a lieutenant. In less than two years after he entered
the regular service, even officers, driven to madness and despair by the
pusillanimous weakness of Congress, openly denounced that body; and the
soldiers themselves, who saw their wounds and sufferings coming to
naught, cursed that sham and mockery which the jealousy and shallowness
of State provincialism had set up in place of a National
Government.[295]
All through the latter half of 1776, Lieutenant Marshall of the Third
Virginia Regiment marched, suffered, retreated and advanced, and
performed his duties without complaint. He did more. At this time, when,
to keep up the sinking spirits of the men was almost as important as was
ammunition, young Marshall was the soul of good humor and of cheer; and
we shall find him in a few months heartening his starving and freezing
comrades at Valley Forge with quip and jest, a center from which
radiated good temper and a hopeful and happy warmth. When in camp
Marshall was always for some game or sport, which he played with
infinite zest. He was the best quoit-thrower in the regiment. His long
legs left the others behind in foot-races or jumping contests.
So well did he perform his work, so highly did he impress his superior
officers, that, early in December, 1776, he was promoted to be
captain-lieutenant, to rank from July 31, and transferred to the
Fifteenth Virginia Line.[296] Thus he missed the glory of being one of
that immortal company which on Christmas night, 1776, crossed the
Delaware with Washington and fell upon the British at Trenton. His
father, Major Thomas Marshall, shared in that renown;[297] but the days
ahead held for John Marshall his share of fighting in actual battle.
Sick, ill-fed, dirty, and ragged, but with a steady nucleus of regular
troops as devoted to their great commander as they were disgusted with
the hybrid arrangement between the States and Congress, Washington's
army worried along. Two months before the battle of the Brandywine, the
American General informed the Committee of Congress that "no army was
ever worse supplied than ours ... our Soldiers, the greatest part of
last Campaign, and the whole of this, have scarcely tasted any kind of
Vegetables; had but little salt and Vinegar." He told of the "many
putrid diseases incident to the Army, and the lamentable mortality,"
which this neglect of soldiers in the field had caused. "Soap," says he,
"is another article in great demand," but not to be had. He adds,
sarcastically: "A soldier's pay will not enable him to purchase [soap]
by which his ... consequent dirtiness adds not a little to the disease
of the Army."[298]
Such was the army of which John Marshall was a part when it prepared to
meet the well-fed, properly clad, adequately equipped British veterans
under Howe who had invaded Pennsylvania. Even with such a force
Washington felt it necessary to make an impression on disaffected[299]
Philadelphia, and, for that purpose, marched through the city on his way
to confront the enemy. For it was generally believed that the American
army was as small in numbers[300] as it was wretched in equipment. A
parade of eleven thousand men[301] through the Tory-infested metropolis
would, Washington hoped, hearten patriot sympathizers and encourage
Congress. He took pains that his troops should make the best appearance
possible. Arms were scoured and the men wore sprigs of green in their
headgear. Among the orders for the march through the seat of government
it was directed: "If any Sold^r. shall dare to quit his ranks He shall
receive 39 Lashes at the first halting place afterwards.... Not a
Woman[302] belonging to the Army is to be seen with the troops on their
March through the City."[303]
The Americans soon came in contact with the enemy and harassed him as
much as possible. Many of Washington's men had no guns. Although fewer
militia came to his aid than Congress had called for, testifies
Marshall, yet "more appeared than could be armed. Those nearest danger
were, as usual, most slow in assembling."[304]
Upon Wayne's suggestion, Washington formed "a corps of light infantry
consisting of nine officers, eight sergeants, and a hundred rank and
file, from each brigade" and placed them under the command of General
Maxwell who had acquired a reputation as a hard fighter.[305] Among
these picked officers was Captain-Lieutenant John Marshall. Maxwell's
command was thrown forward to Iron Hill. "A choice body of men" was
detailed from this select light infantry and, during the night, was
posted on the road along which it was believed one column of the British
army would advance. The small body of Americans had no artillery and its
only purpose was to annoy the enemy and retard his progress. The British
under Cornwallis attacked as soon as they discovered Maxwell's troops.
The Americans quickly were forced to retreat, having lost forty killed
and wounded. Only three of the British were killed and but nineteen were
wounded.[306]
This action was the first engagement in which Marshall took part after
the battle of Great Bridge. It is important only as fixing the command
to which he was assigned. Marshall told Justice Story that he was in the
Iron Hill fight;[307] and it is certain, therefore, that he was in
Maxwell's light infantry and one of the little band picked from that
body of choice troops, for the perilous and discouraging task of
checking the oncoming British thousands.
The American army retreated to the Brandywine, where on the 9th of
September Washington stationed all his forces except the light infantry
on the left of the river. The position was skillfully chosen, but vague
and conflicting reports[308] of the movement of the British finally
resulted in American disaster.
The light infantry was posted among the hills on the right of the stream
along the road leading to Chadd's Ford, in order to skirmish with the
British when they approached, and, if possible, prevent them from
crossing the river. But the enemy, without much effort, drove the
Americans across the Brandywine, neither side suffering much loss.[309]
Washington now made his final dispositions for battle. The command to
which Marshall belonged, together with other detachments under the
general direction of Anthony Wayne, were placed opposite the British at
Chadd's Ford. Small parties of selected men crossed over and attacked
the British on the other side of the stream. In one of these skirmishes
the Americans "killed a British captain with ten or fifteen privates,
drove them out of the wood and were on the point of taking a field
piece." But large numbers of the enemy hurried forward and again the
Americans were thrown across the river. Marshall was in this party.[310]
Thomas Marshall, now colonel,[311] held the advanced position under
Sullivan at the right; and his regiment did the hardest fighting and
suffered the heaviest losses on that unhappy day. When Cornwallis, in
greatly superior numbers, suddenly poured down upon Sullivan's division,
he all but surprised the Continentals and drove most of them flying
before him;[312] but Colonel Marshall and his Virginians refused to be
stampeded. That regiment "maintained its position without losing an
inch of ground until both its flanks were turned, its ammunition nearly
expended, and more than half the officers and one third of the soldiers
were killed and wounded."[313] Colonel Marshall had two horses shot
under him. But, cut to pieces as they were, no panic appeared in this
superb Virginia command and they "retired in good order."[314]
While Thomas Marshall and his Third Virginia Line were thus checking
Cornwallis's assault on the right, the British charged, in dense masses,
across the Brandywine, at Chadd's Ford, upon Wayne's division, to which
Captain-Lieutenant John Marshall had been assigned. The Americans made a
show of resistance, but, learning of the rout of their right wing,
quickly gave way.[315]
"Nearly six hundred British ... were killed or wounded; and the
Americans lost eleven pieces of artillery and above a thousand men, of
whom the third part were prisoners," according to the British
statement.[316] And by their own account the Americans lost three
hundred killed, six hundred wounded, and between three and four hundred
prisoners.[317]
Both British and American narratives agree that the conduct of the
Continental troops at Brandywine was most unequal in stanchness,
discipline, and, courage. John Marshall himself wrote: "As must ever be
the case in new-raised armies, unused to danger and from which
undeserving officers have not been expelled, their conduct was not
uniform. Some regiments, especially those which had served the preceding
campaign, maintained their ground with the firmness and intrepidity of
veterans, while others gave way as soon as they were pressed."[318]
But the inefficiency of the American equipment gave some excuse for the
fright that seized upon so many of them. For, testifies Marshall, "many
of their muskets were scarcely fit for service; and being of unequal
caliber, their cartridges could not be so well fitted, and consequently,
their fire could not do as much execution as that of the enemy. This
radical defect was felt in all the operations of the army."[319]
So ended the battle of the Brandywine, the third formal armed conflict
in which John Marshall took part. He had been in skirmish after
skirmish, and in all of them had shown the characteristic Marshall
coolness and courage, which both father and son exhibited in such
striking fashion on this September day on the field where Lafayette
fell wounded, and where the patriot forces reeled back under the all
but fatal blows of the well-directed British regiments.[320]
It is small wonder that the Americans were beaten in the battle of the
Brandywine; indeed, the wonder is that the British did not follow up
their victory and entirely wipe out the opposing patriots. But it is
astonishing that the American army kept up heart. They were even "in
good spirits" as Washington got them in hand and directed their
retreat.[321]
They were pretty well scattered, however, and many small parties and
numerous stragglers were left behind. Maxwell's men, among whom was John
Marshall, were stationed at Chester as "a rallying point" for the
fragments which otherwise would disperse or be captured. Much
maneuvering followed by both British and Americans. At sight of a
detachment of the enemy approaching Wilmington, the Delaware militia
"dispersed themselves," says Marshall.[322] Soon the two armies again
faced one another. Marshall thus describes the situation: "The advanced
parties had met, and were beginning to skirmish, when they were
separated by a heavy rain, which, becoming more and more violent,
rendered the retreat of the Americans a measure of absolute
necessity."[323]
Through a cold and blinding downpour, over roads deep with mud,
Captain-Lieutenant Marshall marched with his retreating comrades. All
day they struggled forward, and nearly all night. They had no time to
eat and little or no food, even if they had had the time. Before the
break of a gray, cold, rainy September dawn, a halt was called, and an
examination made of arms and ammunition. "Scarcely a musket in a
regiment could be discharged," Marshall records, "and scarcely one
cartridge in a box was fit for use," although "forty rounds per man had
just been drawn"--this because the cartridge boxes had been ill-made and
of improper material.
Gun locks were loose, declares Marshall, because flimsily put on; the
muskets were scarcely better than clubs. Hardly any of the soldiers had
bayonets.[324] "Never" had the patriot army been "in such imminent
peril," he asserts--and all because of the inefficiency or worse of the
method of supplies. Well might Washington's dilapidated troops thank
Providence for the bitter weather that drenched through and through both
officers and men and soaked their ammunition, for "the extreme severity
of the weather had entirely stopped the British army."[325]
Yet Washington was determined to block the British march on
Philadelphia. He made shift to secure some fresh ammunition[326] and
twice moved his army to get in front of the enemy or, failing in that,
"to keep pace with them."[327] To check their too rapid advance
Washington detached the troops under Wayne, among whom was John
Marshall.[328] They found the "country was so extensively disaffected
that Sir William Howe received accurate accounts of his [Wayne's]
position and of his force. Major-General Grey was detached to surprise
him [Wayne] and effectually accomplished his purpose." At eleven o'clock
at night Grey drove in Wayne's pickets with charged bayonets, and in a
desperate midnight encounter killed and wounded one hundred and fifty of
his men.[329] General Smallwood, who was to have supported Wayne, was
less than a mile away, but his militia, who, writes Marshall, "thought
only of their own safety, having fallen in with a party returning from
the pursuit of Wayne, fled in confusion with the loss of only one
man."[330]
Another example, this, before John Marshall's eyes, of the unreliability
of State-controlled troops;[331] one more paragraph in the chapter of
fatal inefficiency of the so-called Government of the so-called United
States. Day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year, these
object lessons were witnessed by the young Virginia officer. They made
a lifelong impression upon him and had an immediate effect. More and
more he came to depend on Washington, as indeed the whole army did also,
for all things which should have come from the Government itself.
Once again the American commander sought to intercept the British, but
they escaped "by a variety of perplexing maneuvers," writes Washington,
"thro' a Country from which I could not derive the least intelligence
(being to a man disaffected)" and "marched immediately toward
Philadelphia."[332] For the moment Washington could not follow,
although, declares Marshall, "public opinion" was demanding and Congress
insisting that one more blow be struck to save Philadelphia.[333] His
forces were not yet united; his troops utterly exhausted.
Marching through heavy mud, wading streams, drenched by torrential
rains, sleeping on the sodden ground "without tents ... without shoes
or ... clothes ... without fire ... without food,"[334] to use
Marshall's striking language, the Americans were in no condition to
fight the superior forces of the well-found British. "At least one
thousand men are bare-footed and have performed the marches in that
condition," Washington informed the impatient Congress.[335] He did his
utmost; that brilliant officer, Alexander Hamilton, was never so
efficient; but nearly all that could be accomplished was to remove the
military stores at Philadelphia up the Delaware farther from the
approaching British, but also farther from the American army.
Philadelphia itself "seemed asleep, or dead, and the whole State scarce
alive. Maryland and Delaware the same," wrote John Adams in his
diary.[336]
So the British occupied the Capital, placing most of their forces about
Germantown. Congress, frightened and complaining, fled to York. The
members of that august body, even before the British drove them from
their cozy quarters, felt that "the prospect is chilling on every side;
gloomy, dark, melancholy and dispiriting."[337] Would Washington never
strike? Their impatience was to be relieved. The American commander had,
by some miracle, procured munitions and put the muskets of his troops in
a sort of serviceable order; and he felt that a surprise upon Germantown
might succeed. He planned his attack admirably, as the British
afterwards conceded.[338] In the twilight of a chilling October day,
Washington gave orders to begin the advance.
Throughout the night the army marched, and in the early morning[339] the
three divisions into which the American force was divided threw
themselves upon the British within brief intervals of time. All went
well at first. Within about half an hour after Sullivan and Wayne had
engaged the British left wing, the American left wing, to which John
Marshall was now attached,[340] attacked the front of the British right
wing, driving that part of the enemy from the ground. With battle shouts
Marshall and his comrades under General Woodford charged the retreating
British. Then it was that a small force of the enemy took possession of
the Chew House and poured a murderous hail of lead into the huzzaing
American ranks. This saved the day for the Royal force and turned an
American victory into defeat.[341]
It was a dramatic struggle in which John Marshall that day took part.
Fighting desperately beside them, he saw his comrades fall in heaps
around him as they strove to take the fiercely defended stone house of
the Tory Judge. A fog came up so thick that the various divisions could
see but a little way before them. The dun smoke from burning hay and
fields of stubble, to which the British had set fire, made thicker the
murk until the Americans fighting from three different points could not
tell friend from foe.[342] For a while their fire was directed only by
the flash from what they thought must be the guns of the enemy.[343]
The rattle of musketry and roar of cannon was like "the crackling of
thorns under a pot, and incessant peals of thunder," wrote an American
officer in an attempt to describe the battle in a letter to his
relatives at home.[344] Through it all, the Americans kept up their
cheering until, as they fought, the defeat was plain to the most
audacious of them; and retreat, with which they had grown so familiar,
once more began. For nine miles the British pursued them, the road
stained with blood from the beaten patriots.[345] Nearly a thousand of
Washington's soldiers were killed or wounded, and over four hundred were
made prisoners on that ill-fated day, while the British loss was less
than half these numbers.[346]
Two months of service followed, as hard as the many gone before with
which Fate had blackened the calendar of the patriot cause. Washington
was frantically urged to "storm" Philadelphia: Congress wished it; a
"torrent of public opinion" demanded it; even some of Washington's
officers were carried off their feet and advised "the mad enterprise,"
to use Marshall's warm description of the pressure upon his
commander.[347] The depreciation of the Continental paper money, the
increasing disaffection of the people, the desperate plight of American
fortunes, were advanced as reasons for a "grand effort" to remedy the
ruinous situation. Washington was immovable, and his best officers
sustained him. Risking his army's destruction was not the way to stop
depreciation of the currency, said Washington; its value had fallen for
want of taxes to sustain it and could be raised only by their levy.[348]
And "the corruption and defection of the people, and their unwillingness
to serve in the army of the United States, were evils which would be
very greatly increased by an unsuccessful attempt on Philadelphia."[349]
So black grew American prospects that secret sympathizers with the
British became open in their advocacy of the abandonment of the
Revolution. A Philadelphia Episcopal rector, who had been chaplain of
Congress, wrote Washington that the patriot cause was lost and besought
him to give up the struggle. "The most respectable characters" had
abandoned the cause of independence, said Duché. Look at Congress. Its
members were "obscure" and "distinguished for the weakness of their
understandings and the violence of their tempers ... chosen by a little,
low, faction.... Tis you ... only that support them." And the army! "The
whole world knows that its only existence depends on you." Consider the
situation: "Your harbors are blocked up, your cities fall one after the
other; fortress after fortress, battle after battle is lost.... How
fruitless the expense of blood!" Washington alone can end it. Humanity
calls upon him to do so; and if he heeds that call his character "will
appear with lustre in the annals of history."[350] Deeply offended,
Washington sent the letter to Congress, which, however, continued to
find fault with him and to urge an attack upon the British in the
Capital.
Although Washington refused to throw his worn and hungry troops upon the
perfectly prepared and victorious enemy entrenched in Philadelphia, he
was eager to meet the British in the open field. But he must choose the
place. So when, early in December, Howe's army marched out of
Philadelphia the Americans were ready. Washington had taken a strong
position on some hills toward the Schuylkill not far from White Marsh.
After much maneuvering by the British and effective skirmishing by
detachments of the patriots,[351] the two armies came into close
contact. Not more than a mile away shone the scarlet uniforms of the
Royal troops. Washington refused to be lured from his advantageous
ground.[352] Apparently the British were about to attack and a decisive
battle to be fought. After Brandywine and Germantown, another defeat
would have been ruinous.
Washington personally animated his men. Marshall, who witnessed it, thus
describes the scene: "The American chief rode through every brigade of
his army, delivering, in person, his orders respecting the manner of
receiving the enemy, exhorting his troops to rely principally on the
bayonet, and encouraging them by the steady firmness of his countenance,
as well as by his words, to a vigorous performance of their duty."[353]
These words make one see, as one reads, the great Virginian in his
noblest aspect--calm in the face of possible disaster, his spirit
burning brightest on the very fuel of danger itself, his clear mind
unclouded by what was likely to befall.
Each division, each regiment, each company, was given plain and
practical orders for the expected conflict. And we may be sure that each
man, private as well as officer, took heart as he looked upon the giant
figure and listened to the steady directions and undismayed
encouragement of his chief. Certain it is that John Marshall so felt and
thought. A rare picture, this, full of life and color, that permits us
to behold the growth in the young soldier's soul of that faith in and
devotion to George Washington, seeds of which had been planted in his
childhood days in the Blue Ridge home.
Finally the British, seeing the resolute front of the Americans and
already bleeding from the fierce thrusts of Morgan's Virginia riflemen,
suddenly withdrew to Philadelphia,[354] and Washington's army went into
winter quarters on the hills of Valley Forge.
FOOTNOTES:
[217] Slaughter, 107-08. This was "the first minute battalion raised
within this Commonwealth." (Memorial of Thomas Marshall to the Virginia
Legislature for military "emoluments"; MS. Archives, Va. St. Lib.)
Appendix IV.
[218] Washington to Mason, April 5, 1769; _Writings_: Ford, ii, 263.
[219] Meade, ii, 219.
[220] Binney, in Dillon, iii, 286.
[221] _Ib._
[222] Statement of eye-witness. (Binney, in Dillon, iii, 287.)
[223] _Ib._, 288.
[224] In all descriptions of Marshall, it is stated that his eyes were
black and brilliant. His portraits, however, show them as dark brown,
but keen and piercing.
[225] Binney, in Dillon, iii, 287-88.
[226] _Ib._
[227] Binney, in Dillon, iii, 288.
[228] Not only do we find Marshalls, father and sons, taking gallant
part in the Revolutionary War, but, thereafter, advocates of war with
any country when the honor or interest of America was at stake.
[229] Binney, in Dillon, iii, 288.
[230] _Infra_, chap. IV.
[231] Slaughter, 107-08. But Binney's informant says that it was twenty
miles from the court-house. (Binney, in Dillon, iii, 286.)
[232] Slaughter, 107-08; and certificate of J. Marshall in pension claim
of William Payne; MSS. Rev. War, S. F. no. 8938-1/2, Pension Bureau.
[233] Slaughter, 107-08.
[234] _Ib._
[235] Campbell, 607-14.
[236] Slaughter, 107-08; certificate of J. Marshall in pension claim of
David Jameson; MSS. Rev. War, S. F. no. 5607, Pension Bureau.
[237] Only the Tories and the disaffected were frightened by these
back-countrymen. Apparently Slaughter took this for granted and failed
to make the distinction.
[238] "The people hearing that we came from the backwoods, and seeing
our savage-looking equipments, seemed as much afraid of us as if we had
been Indians," writes the chronicler of that march. But the people, it
appears, soon got over their fright; for this frontier soldiery, as one
of them relates, "took pride in demeaning ourselves as patriots and
gentlemen, and the people soon treated us with respect and great
kindness." (Slaughter, 107-08.)
[239] Slaughter, 107-08.
[240] _Ib._
[241] Campbell, 633-34; Eckenrode: _R. V._, 81, 82.
[242] Burk, iv, 85; and Lossing, ii, 535-36.
[243] Marshall, i, 69; and Campbell, 635.
[244] Marshall to Samuel Templeman, Richmond, Sept. 26, 1832, supporting
latter's claim for pension; MSS. Rev. War, S. F. no. 6204, Pension
Bureau.
[245] For the conduct of the men then in supreme authority in Virginia
see Wirt, 166-81; and Henry, i, 333-36; also, Campbell, 636 _et seq._;
and see Eckenrode: _R. V._, 75.
[246] Marshall, i, 69; and see Eckenrode: _R. V._, chap. iii, for the
best account that has been given of this important episode. Dr.
Eckenrode's narrative is a complete statement, from original sources, of
every phase of this initial armed conflict between the patriots and
Royalists in Virginia. Also see affidavit of Marshall in pension claim
of William Payne, April 26, 1832; MSS. Rev. War, S. F. no. 8938-1/2,
Pension Bureau.
[247] Affidavit of Marshall in pension claim of William Payne, April 26,
1832: MSS. Rev. War, S. F. no. 8938-1/2, Pension Bureau.
[248] Memorial of Thomas Marshall. (_Supra_, and Appendix IV.)
[249] This uniform was rare; it is probable, however, that Thomas
Marshall procured it for himself and son. He could afford it at that
time, and he was a very proud man.
[250] Chastellux found the army nearly disbanded from necessity in 1782.
(Chastellux, translator's note to 60.)
[251] Washington to President of Congress, Jan. 24, 1776; _Writings_:
Ford, iii, 372-73.
[252] Washington to Reed, Feb. 10, 1776; _ib._, 413.
[253] Washington to Committee of Safety of New York, April 27, 1776;
_Writings_: Ford, iv, 51-52.
[254] Washington to President of Congress, Sept. 20, 1776; _ib._, 422.
[255] Washington to President of Congress, Sept. 24, 1776; _ib._, 439.
[256] Washington to Major-General Lee, Dec. 1, 1776; _ib._, V, 62.
[257] General Greene to Governor Cooke, Dec. 4, 1776; _ib._, footnote to
62.
[258] Washington to President of Congress, Dec. 12, 1776; _Writings_:
Ford, v, 84.
[259] Washington to President of Congress, Dec. 24, 1776; _ib._, 129-30.
While Washington was desperately badly off, he exaggerates somewhat in
this despondent report, as Mr. Ford's footnote (_ib._, 130) shows.
[260] Washington to President of Congress, Nov. 11, 1776; _ib._, 19.
[261] Washington to John Augustine Washington, Nov. 19, 1776;
_Writings_: Ford, v, 38-39.
[262] Washington to President of Congress, Sept. 8, 1776; _ib._, iv,
397.
[263] Washington to John Augustine Washington, Sept. 22, 1776; _ib._,
429.
[264] Washington to Lund Washington, Sept. 30, 1776; _Writings_: Ford,
iv, 457-59.
[265] Washington to John Augustine Washington, Feb. 24, 1777; _ib._, v,
252. The militia officers were elected "without respect either to
service or experience." (Chastellux, 235.)
[266] Kapp, 115.
[267] _The Crisis_: Paine; _Writings_: Conway, i, 175.
[268] Marshall (1st ed.), iii, 66.
[269] The militia were worse than wasteful and unmanageable; they
deserted by companies. (Hatch, 72-73.)
[270] Washington to Wharton, Oct. 17, 1777: _Writings_: Ford, vi,
118-19.
[271] _Ib._
[272] Washington to John Augustine Washington, Oct. 18, 1777; _ib._,
126-29.
[273] Livingston to Washington, Aug. 12, 1776; _Cor. Rev._: Sparks, i,
275.
[274] Lee to Washington, Nov. 12, 1776; _ib._, 305.
[275] Sullivan to Washington, March 7, 1777; _ib._, 353-54.
[276] Schuyler to Washington, Sept. 9. 1776; _ib._, 287.
[277] Smith to McHenry, Dec. 10, 1778; Steiner, 21.
[278] Chastellux, 44; and see Moore's _Diary_, i, 399-400; and _infra_,
chap. IV.
[279] Washington to Livingston, Dec. 31, 1777; _Writings_: Ford, vi,
272.
[280] Washington to President of Congress, Dec. 23, 1777; _ib._, 260;
and see _ib._, 267.
[281] _Pa. Mag. Hist. and Biog._, 1890-91 (2d Series), vi, 79. Most
faces among the patriot troops were pitted with this plague. Washington
was deeply pockmarked. He had the smallpox in the Barbadoes when he was
nineteen years old. (Sparks, 15.)
[282] Weedon, Jan. 6, 1778, 183.
[283] Hatch, 135; and Kapp, 109.
[284] _Proc._, Mass. Hist. Soc. (2d Series), vi, 93.
[285] _Ib._ Entries of desertions and savage punishment are frequent in
Wild's _Diary_; see p. 135 as an example. Also see Moore's _Diary_, i,
405.
[286] Weedon, 14.
[287] _Ib._, Sept. 3, 1777, 30.
[288] _Ib._, Sept. 15, 1777, 52. And see Sept. 6, p. 36, where officers
as well as privates are ordered "instantly Shot" if they are "so far
lost to all Shame as basely to quit their posts without orders, or shall
skulk from Danger or offer to retreat before orders."
[289] Livingston to Webb, May 28, 1781; _Writings_: Ford, ix, footnote
to 267.
[290] One reason for the chaotic state of the army was the lack of
trained officers and the ignorance of the majority of common soldiers in
regard to the simplest elements of drill or discipline. Many of the
bearers of commissions knew little more than the men; and of such
untrained officers there was an overabundance. (Hatch, 13-15.) To Baron
von Steuben's training of privates as well as officers is due the chief
credit for remedying this all but fatal defect. (Kapp, 126-35; also
_infra_, chap. IV.)
[291] For statement of conditions in the American army throughout the
war see Hatch; also, Bolton.
[292] The States were childishly jealous of one another. Their different
laws on the subject of rank alone caused unbelievable confusion. (Hatch,
13-16. And see Watson, 64, for local feeling, and inefficiency caused by
the organization of the army into State lines.)
[293] Hatch says that Connecticut provided most bountifully for her men.
(Hatch, 87.) But Chastellux found the Pennsylvania line the best
equipped; each Pennsylvania regiment had even a band of music.
(Chastellux, 65.)
[294] "The only garment they possess is a blanket elegantly twined about
them. You may judge, sir, how much this apparel graces their appearance
in parade." (Inspector Fleury to Von Steuben, May 13, 1778; as quoted in
Hatch, 87.)
[295] Diary of Joseph Clark; _Proceedings_, N.J. Hist. Soc. (1st
Series), vii, 104. The States would give no revenue to the general
Government and the officers thought the country would go to pieces.
(Hatch, 154.)
[296] Heitman, 285.
[297] Binney, in Dillon, iii, 284.
[298] Washington to Committee of Congress, July 19, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, v, 495.
[299] Washington to President of Congress, Aug. 23, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 50; also see Marshall (1st ed.), iii, 126.
[300] Marshall (1st ed.), iii, 126.
[301] _Ib._, 127.
[302] On this subject see Waldo's poem, _Hist. Mag._, vii, 274; and
Clark's Diary, _Proc._, N.J. Hist. Soc., vii, 102.
[303] Weedon, Aug. 23, 1777, 19.
[304] Marshall (1st ed.), iii, 127.
[305] _Ib._, 128; and see Trevelyan, iv, 226.
[306] Marshall (1st ed.), iii, 127-29; _ib._ (2d ed.), i, 154-56;
Washington to President of Congress, Sept. 3, 1777; _Writings_: Ford,
vi, 64-65.
[307] Story, in Dillon, iii, 335.
[308] Washington to President of Congress, Sept 11, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 69.
[309] Marshall (1st ed.), iii, 131; _ib._ (2d ed.), i, 156. Colonel
Harrison, Washington's Secretary, reported immediately to the President
of Congress that Maxwell's men believed that they killed or wounded "at
least three hundred" of the British. (Harrison to President of Congress,
Sept. 11, 1777; _Writings_: Ford, vi, footnote to 68.)
[310] Marshall, i, 156. The fact that Marshall places himself in this
detachment, which was a part of Maxwell's light infantry, together with
his presence at Iron Hill, fixes his position in the battle of the
Brandywine and in the movements that immediately followed. It is
reasonably certain that he was under Maxwell until just before the
battle of Germantown. Of this skirmish Washington's optimistic and
excited Secretary wrote on the spot, that Maxwell's men killed thirty
men and one captain "left dead on the spot." (Harrison to the President
of Congress, Sept. 11, 1777; _Writings_: Ford, vi, footnote to 68.)
[311] Thomas Marshall was promoted to be lieutenant-colonel Aug. 13,
1776; and colonel Feb. 21, 1777. (Heitman, 285.)
[312] Trevelyan, iv, 230.
[313] Marshall, i, footnote to 158.
[314] _Ib._ Colonel Thomas Marshall's cool-headed and heroic conduct at
this battle, which brought out in high lights his fine record as an
officer, caused the Virginia House of Delegates to elect him colonel of
the State Regiment of Artillery raised by that Commonwealth three months
later. The vote is significant; for, although there were three
candidates, each a man of merit, and although Thomas Marshall himself
was not an aspirant for the place, and, indeed, was at Valley Forge when
the election occurred, twice as many votes were cast for him as for all
the other candidates put together. Four men were balloted for, Thomas
Marshall receiving seventy-five votes and the other three candidates all
together but thirty-six votes. (Journal, H.B. (Nov. 5, 1777), 27.)
[315] Marshall, i, 156; and Trevelyan, iv, 230-31. Washington reported
that Wayne and Maxwell's men retreated only "after a severe conflict."
(Washington to President of Congress, Sept. 11, 1777; _Writings_: Ford,
vi, 69.)
[316] Trevelyan, iv, 232.
[317] Marshall, i, 157-58.
[318] _Ib._; and see Irving, iii, 200-09.
[319] Marshall, i, 158-59.
[320] Four years afterward Chastellux found that "most of the trees bear
the mark of bullets or cannon shot." (Chastellux, 118.)
[321] Washington to President of Congress, Sept. 11, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 70.
[322] Marshall (1st ed.), iii, 141, and see Washington to President of
Congress, Sept. 23, 1777; _Writings_: Ford, vi, 81.
[323] Marshall, i, 160.
[324] Marshall, i, 160. When their enlistments expired, the soldiers
took the Government's muskets and bayonets home with them. Thus
thousands of muskets and bayonets continually disappeared. (See Kapp,
117.)
[325] Marshall, i, 160-61.
[326] _Ib._
[327] Washington to President of Congress, Sept. 23, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 81-82.
[328] This is an inference, but a fair one. Maxwell was under Wayne; and
Marshall was one of Maxwell's light infantry of picked men. (_Supra._)
[329] Marshall, i, 161. "The British accounts represent the American
loss to have been much larger. It probably amounted to at least three
hundred men." (_Ib._, footnote.)
[330] _Ib._, and see _Pa. Mag. Hist. and Biog._, i, 305.
[331] Marshall repeatedly expresses this thought in his entire account
of the war.
[332] Washington to President of Congress, Sept. 23, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 80.
[333] Marshall, i, 162.
[334] _Ib._
[335] Washington to President of Congress, Sept. 23, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 82.
[336] _Works_: Adams, ii, 437.
[337] _Ib._
[338] _Pa. Mag. Hist. and Biog._, xvi, 197 _et seq._
[339] American officer's description of the battle. (_Ib._, xi, 330.)
[340] Marshall, i, 168.
[341] _Ib._, 168-69.
[342] From an American officer's description, in _Pa. Mag. Hist. and
Biog._, xi, 330.
[343] _Ib._, 331-32.
[344] _Ib._
[345] "The rebels carried off a large number of their wounded as we
could see by the blood on the roads, on which we followed them so far
[nine miles]." (British officer's account of battle; _Pa. Mag. Hist. and
Biog._, xvi, 197 _et seq._)
[346] Marshall, i, 170-71.
[347] _Ib._, 181.
[348] _Ib._, 181-82.
[349] Marshall (1st ed.), iii, 287. Marshall omits this sentence in his
second edition. But his revised account is severe enough.
[350] The Reverend Jacob Duché, to Washington, Oct. 8, 1777; _Cor.
Rev._: Sparks, i, 448-58.
[351] Washington to President of Congress, Dec. 10, 1777; _Writings_:
Ford, vi, 238-39.
[352] Clark's Diary, _Proc._, N.J. Hist. Soc. (1st Series), vii, 102-03.
"It seems that the enemy had waited all this time before our lines to
decoy us from the heights we possessed." (_Ib._)
[353] Marshall, i, 184.
[354] Marshall, i, 184.