that town was decided, (11th September, 1777.) The inhabitants had heard
every cannon that was fired there; the two parties, assembled in two
distinct bands in all the squares and public places, had awaited the
event in silence. The last courier at length arrived, and the friends of
Liberty were thrown into consternation. The Americans had lost from 1000
to 1200 men. Howe's army was composed of about 12,000 men; their losses
had been so considerable that their surgeons and those in the country,
were found insufficient, and they requested the American army to supply
them with some for their prisoners. If the enemy had marched to
Derby, the army would have been cut up and destroyed: they lost an
all-important night; and this was perhaps their greatest fault, during a
war in which they committed so many errors.
M. de Lafayette, having been conveyed by water to Philadelphia, was
carefully attended to by the citizens, who were all interested in his
situation and extreme youth. That same evening the congress determined
to quit the city: a vast number of the inhabitants deserted their own
hearths--whole families, abandoning their possessions, and uncertain of
the future, took refuge in the mountains. M. de Lafayette was carried
to Bristol in a boat; he there saw the fugitive congress, who only
assembled again on the other side of the Susquehannah; he was himself
conducted to Bethlehem, a Moravian establishment, where the mild
religion of the brotherhood, the community of fortune, education, and
interests, amongst that large and simple family, formed a striking
contrast to scenes of blood, and the convulsions occasioned by a civil
war.
After the Brandywine defeat, the two armies maneouvered along the banks
of the Schuylkill. General Washington still remained on a height above
the enemy, and completely out of his reach; nor had they again an
opportunity of cutting him off. Waine, an American brigadier, was
detached to observe the English; but, being surprised during the night,
near the White-Horse, by General Grey, he lost there the greatest part
of his corps. At length Howe crossed the Schuylkill at Swede's Ford, and
Lord Cornwallis entered Philadelphia.
In spite of the declaration of independence of the New States,
everything there bore the appearance of a civil war. The names of Whig
and Tory distinguished the republicans and royalists; the English army
was still called the _regular troops_; the British sovereign was always
designated by the name of the king. Provinces, towns, and families were
divided by the violence of party spirit: brothers, officers in the two
opposing armies, meeting by chance in their father's house, have seized
their arms to fight with each other. Whilst, in the rancour of
their pride, the English committed horrible acts of licence and
cruelty,--whilst discipline dragged in her train those venal Germans
who knew only how to kill, burn, and pillage, in the same army were
seen regiments of Americans, who, trampling under foot their brethren,
assisted in enslaving their wasted country. Each canton contained a
still greater number whose sole object was to injure the friends of
liberty, and give information to those of despotism. To these inveterate
Tories must be added the number of those whom fear, private interest, or
religion, rendered adverse to war. If the Presbyterians, the children
of Cromwell and Fairfax, detested royalty, the Lutherans, who had sprung
from it, were divided among themselves: the Quakers hated slaughter, but
served willingly as guides to the royal troops. Insurrections were by
no means uncommon: near the enemy's stations, farmers often shot each
other; robbers were even encouraged. The republican chiefs were exposed
to great dangers when they travelled through the country; it was always
necessary for them to declare that they should pass the night in one
house, then take possession of another, barricade themselves in it,
and only sleep with their arms by their side. In the midst of these
troubles, M. de Lafayette was no longer considered as a stranger; never
was any adoption more complete than his own: and whilst, in the councils
of war, he trembled when he considered that his voice (at twenty years
of age) might decide the fate of two worlds, he was also initiated in
those deliberations in which, by reassuring the Whigs, intimidating the
Tories, supporting an ideal money, and redoubling their firmness in the
hour of adversity, the American chiefs conducted that revolution through
so many obstacles.
Confined to his bed for six weeks, M. de Lafayette suffered from his
wound, but still more severely from his inactivity. The good Moravian
brothers loved him, and deplored his warlike folly. Whilst listening to
their sermons, he planned setting Europe and Asia in a flame. As he was
no longer able to do anything but write, he wrote to the commander of
la Martinique, and proposed to him to make a descent upon the English
islands under American colours. He wrote also to M. de Maurepas, and
offered to conduct some Americans to the Isle of France, concerting
previously with individuals an attack upon the English factories.~[21]
From the particulars which have since become known, that project in
India would have succeeded; but it was rejected at Versailles, where no
answers were yet vouchsafed to M. de Lafayette's letters. Bouillé more
ardent in temper, would have adopted the whole plan, but he could not
act without permission; and these delays led to the period of the war
which M. de Lafayette was so desirous of bringing on.
During his residence at Bethlehem, the English entrenched themselves at
Philadelphia. The two rivers which encompassed the town were united by
a chain of wooden palisades and good redoubts, partly covered by an
inundation. A portion of their army was encamped at Germantown, five
miles in advance of those lines; these were attacked, the 4th of
October, by Washington, and although his left column was retarded by an
absurd precedence of divisions, and misled by a thick fog,--although
the advance guard of the right, under Conway, attacked in front what
it ought to have attacked in flank, the enemy was not less taken by
surprise and beaten, and the general, with his victorious wing, passed
through the whole extent of the enemy's encampment. All things went on
well until then; but a false movement of the left column, and still
more the attack of a stone house which they should have turned, gave
the enemy time to rally. Howe was thinking of a retreat, but Cornwallis
arrived in haste with a reinforcement. The Americans repassed through
the English encampment, and the action ended by a complete defeat. Many
men were lost on both sides. General Agnew, an Englishman, and General
Nash, an American, were killed. The Americans had some dragoons under
Pulaski, the only one of the confederated Poles who had refused to
accept a pardon. He was an intrepid knight, a libertine and devotee,
and a better captain than general; he insisted on being a Pole on
all occasions, and M. de Lafayette, after having contributed to his
reception in the army, often exerted himself to effect a reconciliation
betwixt him and the other officers. Without waiting for his wound to
be closed, M. de Lafayette returned to head-quarters, twenty-five miles
from Philadelphia. The enemy, who had fallen back upon their lines,
attacked Fort Mifflin, upon an island, and Fort Red-Bank, on the left
side of the Delaware. Some _chevaux de frise_, protected by the forts,
and some galleys, stopped the fleet, magazines, and detachments which
had been sent from the Chesapeak. Amongst the skirmishes which took
place betwixt small parties of soldiers, the most remarkable one was
the surprise of a corps of militia at Cevoked-Billet,~[22] in which the
English burnt their wounded prisoners in a barn. Such was the situation
of the south, when news was received of the capitulation of Burgoyne.
That general, when he quitted Canada, had made a diversion on his right;
but Saint Leger had failed in an operation against Fort Schuyler; and he
himself, by advancing towards Albany, appeared to have lost much time.
Gates was constantly adding numerous militia to his continental troops.
All the citizens being armed militia, a signal of alarm assembled them,
or an order of state summoned them to march. But if that crusade were
rather a voluntary one, their residence at the camp was still more
dependent on their own inclination: the discipline was suitable to the
formation of the corps. The continentalists, on the contrary, belonged
to the thirteen states, of which each one supplied some regiments;
the soldiers were either engaged for the war or for three years, which
improper alternative was occasioned by republican jealousy. These
regular troops had military regulations, a severe discipline, and the
officers of each state vied with each other for promotion. Gates,
placed in an entrenched position, in the centre of woods, on the road
to Albany, and with the North river on his right, had assembled sixteen
thousand men; and this invasion of the enemy, by threatening New
England, had served as an instant summons to the brave militia. They had
already proved their strength at Bennington, where Stark had surrounded
and destroyed a detachment belonging to Burgoyne. The enemy, having
arrived within three miles of Gates, and not being able to make
a circuit round him without abandoning their cannon and military
accoutrements, attempted twice to force him; but they had scarcely
commenced their march when Arnold fell upon them with his division, and
in those woods, lined with sharpshooters, it was only possible for them
to reach the entrenchments. Arnold had his leg broken at the second
affair; Lincoln, the other major-general, was wounded also. Four
thousand men, who embarked at New York, had, it is true, ascended the
Hudson. Whilst Vaughan was needlessly burning Esopus, Clinton had taken
all the forts that defended the river. They were but little annoyed by
Putnam, who, in the first breaking out of the troubles, had thrown aside
his plough to bear to the army far more zeal than talent. But still that
diversion was too weak; and by a note which a spy who had been taken
swallowed, but which was recovered by an emetic, it was seen that
Clinton was aware of his own weakness. Burgoyne, abandoned by the
savages, regretting his best soldiers, and Frazer, his best general,
reduced to five thousand men, who were in want of provisions, wished
to retreat; but it was then too late: his communications were no longer
open; and it was at Saratoga, some miles in the rear of his army, that
he signed the celebrated convention. A brilliant troop, covered with
gold, filed out with Burgoyne: they encountered Gates and his officers,
all clothed in plain grey cloth. After a frugal repast, the two generals
beheld the conquered army filing out; and, as a member of parliament
said, "_five thousand men crossed the rebel country to take up their
winter quarters near Boston_." Clinton then redescended to New York,
and the militia returned to their domestic hearths. Gates' chief merit
consisted in his skilful choice of a position; Burgoyne's misfortune was
owing to the nature of the country, which was impracticable and almost
a desert. If the enemies of the former criticised the terms of the
convention, M. de Lafayette loudly proclaimed how glorious he thought
it; but he blamed Gates afterwards for rendering himself independent of
his general, and for retaining the troops which he ought to have sent
him. To obtain them, it was necessary to despatch Hamilton, a young man
of great talents, whose counsels had justly acquired much credit.~[23]
The forts of the Delaware had not yet yielded: that of Red-Bank,
defended by four hundred men, was attacked, sword in hand, by sixteen
hundred Hessians. The work having been reduced by Mauduit, a young
Frenchman, the enemy engaged betwixt the old and new entrenchments. They
were driven back with the loss of seven hundred men and Count Donop,
their chief, whose last words were--"_I die the victim of my own
ambition, and the avarice of my sovereign_." That fort was commanded
by an old and respected colonel, Greene, who, three years after, was
massacred by the English to whom he had surrendered, whilst, covering
him with his own body, an old negro perished heroically by his side.
Fort Mifflin, although attacked by land and water, did not defend itself
less valiantly; the _Augusta_, an English ship of the line, had been
already blown up; a frigate also perished; and Colonel Smith did not
even think of surrendering: but the island being attacked from an
unknown passage, the works were assaulted from the rear, and were
obliged to be evacuated. Lord Cornwallis and five thousand men having
fallen upon the Jerseys, it became also necessary to quit Red-Bank which
the Americans blew up before leaving it: General Greene, crossing the
river at Trenton opposed, with a precisely equal force, the detachment
of Cornwallis.
Although M. de Lafayette's wound was not yet sufficiently closed for him
to put on a boot, he accompanied Greene to Mount Holly; and detaching
himself in order to reconnoitre, he found the enemy, November 25th,
at Gloucester, opposite Philadelphia. The booty they had collected was
crossing the river. To assure himself more fully on this point M. de
Lafayette advanced upon the strip of land called Sandy Point, and for
this imprudence he would have paid dearly if those who had the power
of killing him had not depended too much on those who had the power of
taking him prisoner. After having succeeded in somewhat appeasing the
terror of his guides, he found himself, about four o'clock, two miles
from the English camp, before a post of four hundred Hessians with their
cannon. Having only three hundred and fifty men, most of them militia,
he suddenly attacked the enemy, who gave way before him. Lord Cornwallis
came up with his grenadiers; but, supposing himself to be engaged with
the corps of General Greene, he allowed himself to be driven back to
the neighbourhood of Gloucester, with a loss of about sixty men. Greene
arrived in the night, but would not attack the enemy. Lord Cornwallis
passed over the river, and the American detachment rejoined the army
at its station at Whitemarsh, twelve miles from Philadelphia. It had
occupied, since the last month, some excellent heights; the general's
accurate glance had discerned the situation of the encampment through an
almost impenetrable wood.
The slight success of Gloucester gratified the army, and especially the
militia. The congress resolved, that "it would be extremely agreeable to
them to see the Marquis de Lafayette at the head of a division."~[24] He
quitted, therefore, his situation of volunteer, and succeeded Stephen
in the command of the Virginians. The junction of Cornwallis having been
the work of some hours, and that of Greene requiring several marches,
it is difficult to imagine why Howe gave him time to arrive, and only
proceeded with his army on the 5th of December to Chesnut Hill, three
miles from Whitemarsh. After having felt his way with the right wing,
of which he stood in some awe, he threatened to attack the extreme left;
and that wing, following his own movements, stationed itself on the
declivity of the heights. Some shots were exchanged betwixt the English
light horsemen and the American riflemen, very skilful carabineers, who
inhabit the frontiers of the savage tribes. Not being able to attack
that position, and not wishing to make the circuit of it, Howe
returned, on the fourth day, to Philadelphia. In spite of the northern
reinforcements, the Americans were reduced to nine thousand, and the
advanced season diminished their numbers rapidly. The protection of the
country had cost the army dear. The 15th of December they marched toward
Swedes' Ford, where Lord Cornwallis was accidentally foraging on the
other side of the river. M. de Lafayette, being upon duty, was examining
a position, when his escort and the enemy fired upon each other.
The uncertainty being mutual, Lord Cornwallis and General Washington
suspended their march; the former having retired during the night, the
army crossed over the Schuylkill, and entrenched itself in the station
of Valley-Forge, twenty-two miles from Philadelphia. Having skillfully
erected there, in a few days, a city of wooden huts the army established
itself in its melancholy winter quarters. A small corps was detached to
Wilmington, and fortified itself, under the command of Brigadier-General
Smallwood.
Notwithstanding the success in the north, the situation of the Americans
had never been more critical than at the present moment. A paper money,
without out any certain foundation, and unmixed with any specie, was
both counterfeited by the enemy and discredited by their partizans. They
feared to establish taxes, and had still less the power of levying
them. The people, who had risen against the taxation of England, were
astonished at paying still heavier taxes now; and the government was
without any power to enforce them. On the other side, New York and
Philadelphia were overstocked with gold and various merchandizes; the
threatened penalty of death could not stop a communication that was
but too easy. To refuse the payment of taxes, to depreciate the paper
currency, and feed the enemy, was a certain method of attaining wealth;
privations and misery were only experienced by good citizens. Each
proclamation of the English was supported by their seductions, their
riches, and the intrigues of the Tories. Whilst a numerous garrison
lived sumptuously at New York, some hundreds of men, ill-clothed
and ill-fed, wandered upon the shores of the Hudson. The army of
Philadelphia, freshly recruited from Europe, abundantly supplied with
everything they could require, consisted of eighteen thousand men: that
of Valley-Forge was successively reduced to five thousand men; and two
marches on the fine Lancaster road, (on which road also was a chain
of magazines,) by establishing the English in the rear of their right
flank, would have rendered their position untenable; from which,
however, they had no means of retiring. The unfortunate soldiers were
in want of everything; they had no coats, hats, shirts, or shoes; their
feet and legs froze till they became black, and it was often necessary
to amputate them. From want of money, they could neither obtain
provisions nor any means of transport; the colonels were often reduced
to two rations, and sometimes even to one. The army frequently remained
whole days without provisions, and the patient endurance of both
soldiers and officers was a miracle which each moment served to renew.
But the sight of their misery prevented new engagements; it was almost
impossible to levy recruits; it was easy to desert into the interior of
the country. The sacred liberty was not extinguished, it is true, and
the majority of the citizens detested British tyranny; but the triumph
of the north, and the tranquillity of the south, had lulled to sleep
two-thirds of the continent. The remaining part was harassed by two
armies; and, throughout this revolution, the great difficulty was, that,
in order to conceal misfortunes from the enemy, it was necessary
to conceal them from the nation also; that by awakening the one,
information was likewise given to the other; and that fatal blows would
have been struck upon the weakest points before democratic tardiness
could have been roused to support them. It was from this cause that,
during the whole war, the real force of the army was always kept a
profound secret; even congress was not apprised of it, and the generals
were often themselves deceived. General Washington never placed
unlimited confidence in any person, except in M. de Lafayette; because
for him alone, perhaps, confidence sprung from warm affection. As the
situation grew more critical, discipline became more necessary. In
the course of his nocturnal rounds, in the midst of heavy snows, de
Lafayette was obliged to break some negligent officers. He adopted in
every respect the American dress, habits, and food. He wished to be more
simple, frugal, and austere than the Americans themselves. Brought up in
the lap of luxury, he suddenly changed his whole manner of living, and
his constitution bent itself to privation as well as to fatigue. He
always took the liberty of freely writing his ideas to congress; or, in
imitation of the prudence of the general, he gave his opinion to some
members of a corps or state assembly, that, being adopted by them, it
might be brought forward in the deliberations of congress.
In addition to the difficulties which lasted during the whole of the
war, the winter of Valley-Forge recals others still more painful.
At Yorktown, behind the Susquehannah, congress was divided into two
factions, which, in spite of their distinction of south and east, did
not the less occasion a separation between members of the same state.
The deputies substituted their private intrigues for the wishes of the
nation. Several impartial men had retired; several states had but one
representative, and in some cases not even one. Party spirit was so
strong, that three years afterwards congress still felt the effects of
it. Any great event, however, would awaken their patriotism; and when
Burgoyne declared that his treaty had been broken, means were found
to stop the departure of his troops, which everything, even the few
provisions for the transports, had foolishly betrayed. But all these
divisions failed to produce the greatest of calamities--the loss of the
only man capable of conducting the revolution.
Gates was at Yorktown, where he inspired respect by his manners,
promises, and European acquirements. Amongst the deputies who united
themselves to him, may be numbered the Lees, Virginians, enemies of
Washington, and the two Adams. Mifflin, quarter-master-general, aided
him with his talents and brilliant eloquence. They required a name to
bring forward in the plot, and they selected Conway, who fancied himself
the chief of a party. To praise Gates, with a certain portion of the
continent and the troops, was a pretext for speaking of themselves.
The people attach themselves to prosperous generals, and the
commander-in-chief had been unsuccessful. His own character inspired
respect and affection; but Greene, Hamilton, Knox, his best friends,
were sadly defamed. The Tories fomented these dissensions. The
presidency of the war-office, which had been created for Gates,
restricted the power of the general. This was not the only
inconvenience; a committee from congress arrived at the camp, and the
attack of Philadelphia was daringly proposed. The most shrewd people did
not believe that Gates was the real object of this intrigue. Though a
good officer he had not the power to assert himself. He would have given
place to the famous General Lee, then a prisoner of the English, whose
first care would have been to have made over to them his friends and all
America.
Attached to the general, and still more so to the cause, M. de Lafayette
did not hesitate for a moment; and, in spite of the caresses of one
party, he remained faithful to the other, whose ruin seemed then
impending. He saw and corresponded frequently with the general, and
often discused with him his own private situation, and the effect that
various meliorations in the army might produce. Having sent for his wife
to the camp, the general preserved in his deportment the noble composure
which belongs to a strong and virtuous mind. "I have not sought for this
place," said he to M. de Lafayette; "if I am displeasing to the nation I
will retire; but until then I will oppose all intrigues."