WASHINGTON’S PERPLEXITIES ABOUT THE BRITISH FLEET—PUTNAM AND GOVERNOR
CLINTON PUT ON THE ALERT IN THE HIGHLANDS—MORGAN AND HIS RIFLEMEN
SENT TO THE NORTH—WASHINGTON AT PHILADELPHIA—HIS FIRST INTERVIEW
WITH LAFAYETTE—INTELLIGENCE ABOUT THE FLEET—EXPLANATIONS OF ITS
MOVEMENTS—REVIEW OF THE ARMY—LAFAYETTE MISTAKES THE NATURE OF HIS
COMMISSION—HIS ALLIANCE WITH WASHINGTON—MARCH OF THE ARMY THROUGH
PHILADELPHIA—ENCAMPMENT AT WILMINGTON.
For several days Washington remained at Germantown in painful
uncertainty about the British fleet; whether gone to the south or to the
east. The intense heat of the weather made him unwilling again to move
his army, already excessively harassed by marchings and
countermarchings. Concluding, at length, that the fleet had actually
gone to the east, he was once more on the way to recross the Delaware,
when an express overtook him on the 10th of August, with tidings that
three days before it had been seen off Sinepuxent Inlet, about sixteen
leagues south of the Capes of Delaware.
Again he came to a halt, and waited for further intelligence. Danger
suggested itself from a different quarter. Might it not be Howe’s plan,
by thus appearing with his ships at different places, to lure the army
after him, and thereby leave the country open for Sir Henry Clinton with
the troops at New York to form a junction with Burgoyne? With this idea
Washington wrote forthwith to the veteran Putnam to be on the alert;
collect all the force he could to strengthen his post at Peekskill, and
send down spies to ascertain whether Sir Henry Clinton was actually at
New York, and what troops he had there. “If he has the number of men
with him that is reported,” observes Washington, “it is probably with
the intention to attack you from below, while Burgoyne comes down upon
you from above.”
The old general, whose boast it was that he never slept but with one
eye, was already on the alert. A circumstance had given him proof
positive that Sir Henry was in New York, and had roused his military
ire. A spy, sent by that commander, had been detected furtively
collecting information of the force and condition of the post at
Peekskill, and had undergone a military trial. A vessel of war came up
the Hudson in all haste, and landed a flag of truce at Verplanck’s
Point, by which a message was transmitted to Putnam from Sir Henry
Clinton, claiming Edmund Palmer as a lieutenant in the British service.
The reply of the old general was brief but emphatic
“HEAD-QUARTERS, 7th Aug., 1777.
“Edmund Palmer, an officer in the enemy’s service, was taken as a spy
lurking within our lines; he has been tried as a spy, condemned as a
spy, and shall be executed as a spy; and the flag is ordered to depart
immediately.
“ISRAEL PUTNAM.
“P. S.—He has, accordingly, been executed.”
Governor Clinton, the other guardian of the Highlands, and actually at
his post at Fort Montgomery, was equally on the alert. He had faithfully
followed Washington’s directions, in ordering out militia from different
counties to reinforce his own garrison and the army under Schuyler. “I
never knew the militia come out with greater alacrity,” writes he; “but,
as many of them have yet a great part of their harvests in the field, I
fear it will be difficult to detain them long, unless the enemy will
make some movements that indicate a design of coming this way suddenly,
and so obvious as to be believed by the militia.”
At the same time, the worthy governor expressed his surprise that the
Northern army had not been reinforced from the eastward. “The want of
confidence in the general officers to the northward,” adds he, “is the
specious reason. To me it appears a very weak one. Common gratitude to a
sister State, as well as duty to the continent at large, conspire in
calling on our eastern neighbors to step forth on this occasion.”
One measure more was taken by Washington, during this interval, in aid
of the Northern department. The Indians who accompanied Burgoyne were
objects of great dread to the American troops, especially the militia.
As a counterpoise to them, he now sent up Colonel Morgan with five
hundred riflemen, to fight them in their own way. “They are all chosen
men,” said he, “selected from the army at large, and well acquainted
with the use of rifles and with that mode of fighting. I expect the most
eminent services from them, and I shall be mistaken if their presence
does not go far towards producing a general desertion among the
savages.” It was, indeed, an arm of strength, which he could but ill
spare from his own army.
Putnam was directed to have sloops ready to transport them up the
Hudson, and Gates was informed of their being on the way, and about what
time he might expect them, as well as two regiments from Peekskill,
under colonels Van Courtlandt and Livingston.
“With these reinforcements, besides the militia under General Lincoln,”
writes Washington to Gates, “I am in hopes you will find yourself at
least equal to stop the progress of Mr. Burgoyne, and, by cutting off
his supplies of provisions, to render his situation very ineligible.”
Washington was thus, in a manner, carrying on two games at once, with
Howe on the seaboard and with Burgoyne on the upper waters of the
Hudson, and endeavoring by skilful movements to give check to both. It
was an arduous and complicated task, especially with his scanty and
fluctuating means, and the wide extent of country and great distances
over which he had to move his men.
His measures to throw a force in the rear of Burgoyne were now in a fair
way of being carried into effect. Lincoln was at Bennington. Stark had
joined him with a body of New Hampshire militia, and a corps of
Massachusetts militia was arriving. “Such a force in his rear,” observed
Washington, “will oblige Burgoyne to leave such strong posts behind as
must make his main body very weak, and extremely capable of being
repulsed by the force we have in front.”
During his encampment in the neighborhood of Philadelphia, Washington
was repeatedly at that city, making himself acquainted with the military
capabilities of the place and its surrounding country, and directing the
construction of fortifications on the river. In one of these visits he
became acquainted with the young Marquis de Lafayette, who had recently
arrived from France, in company with a number of French, Polish, and
German officers, among whom was the Baron de Kalb. The marquis was not
quite twenty years of age, yet had already been married nearly three
years to a lady of rank and fortune. Full of the romance of liberty, he
had torn himself from his youthful bride, turned his back upon the
gayeties and splendors of a court, and in defiance of impediments and
difficulties multiplied in his path, had made his way to America to join
its hazardous fortunes.
He sent in his letters of recommendation to Mr. Lovell, Chairman of the
Committee of Foreign Affairs; and applied the next day at the door of
Congress to know his success. Mr. Lovell came forth, and gave him but
little encouragement; Congress, in fact, was embarrassed by the number
of foreign applications, many without merit. Lafayette immediately sent
in the following note: “After my sacrifices, I have the right to ask two
favors; one is to serve at my own expense; the other, to commence by
serving as a volunteer.”[50]
This simple appeal had its effect: it called attention to his peculiar
case, and Congress resolved on the 31st of July, that in consideration
of his zeal, his illustrious family and connections, he should have the
rank of major-general in the army of the United States.
It was at a public dinner, where a number of members of Congress were
present, that Lafayette first saw Washington. He immediately knew him,
he said, from the officers who surrounded him, by his commanding air and
person. When the party was breaking up, Washington took him aside,
complimented him in a gracious manner on his disinterested zeal and the
generosity of his conduct, and invited him to make head-quarters his
home. “I cannot promise you the luxuries of a court,” said he, “but as
you have become an American soldier, you will, doubtless, accommodate
yourself to the fare of an American army.”
Many days had now elapsed without further tidings of the fleet. What had
become of it? Had Howe gone against Charleston? If so, the distance was
too great to think of following him. Before the army, debilitated and
wasted by a long march, under a summer sun, in an unhealthy climate,
could reach there, he might accomplish every purpose he had in view, and
reembark his troops to turn his arms against Philadelphia, or any other
point, without the army being at hand to oppose him.
What, under these uncertainties, was to be done? remain inactive, in the
remote probability of Howe’s returning this way; or proceed to the
Hudson with a view either to oppose Burgoyne, or make an attempt upon
New York? A successful stroke with respect to either, might make up for
any losses sustained in the South. The latter was unanimously determined
in a council of war, in which the Marquis Lafayette took part. As it
was, however, a movement that might involve the most important
consequences, Washington sent his aide-de-camp, Colonel Alexander
Hamilton, with a letter to the President of Congress, requesting the
opinion of that body. Congress approved the decision of the council, and
the army was about to be put in march, when all these tormenting
uncertainties were brought to an end by intelligence that the fleet had
actually entered the Chesapeake, and anchored at Swan Point, at least
two hundred miles within the capes. “By General Howe’s coming so far up
the Chesapeake,” writes Washington, “he must mean to reach Philadelphia
by that route, though to be sure it is a strange one.”
The mystery of these various appearances and vanishings which had caused
so much wonder and perplexity, is easily explained. Shortly before
putting to sea with the ships of war, Howe had sent a number of
transports, and a ship cut down as a floating battery, up the Hudson,
which had induced Washington to despatch troops to the Highlands. After
putting to sea, the fleet was a week in reaching the Capes of Delaware.
When there, the commanders were deterred from entering the river by
reports of measures taken to obstruct its navigation. It was then
determined to make for Chesapeake Bay, and approach, in that way, as
near as possible to Philadelphia. Contrary winds, however, kept them for
a long time from getting into the bay.
Lafayette, in his memoirs, describes a review of Washington’s army which
he witnessed about this time. “Eleven thousand men, but tolerably armed,
and still worse clad, presented,” he said, “a singular spectacle; in
this parti-colored and often naked state, the best dresses were hunting
shirts of brown linen. Their tactics were equally irregular. They were
arranged without regard to size, excepting that the smallest men were
the front rank; with all this, there were good-looking soldiers
conducted by zealous officers.”
“We ought to feel embarrassed,” said Washington to him, “in presenting
ourselves before an officer just from the French army.”
“It is to learn, and not to instruct, that I come here,” was Lafayette’s
apt and modest reply; and it gained him immediate popularity.
The marquis, however, had misconceived the nature of his appointment;
his commission was merely honorary, but he had supposed it given with a
view to the command of a division of the army. This misconception on his
part caused Washington some embarrassment. The marquis, with his
characteristic vivacity and ardor, was eager for immediate employ. He
admitted that he was young and inexperienced, but always accompanied the
admission with the assurance that, so soon as Washington should think
him fit for the command of a division, he would be ready to enter upon
the duties of it, and, in the mean time, offered his services for a
smaller command. “What the designs of Congress respecting this gentleman
are, and what line of conduct I am to pursue to comply with their design
and his expectations,” writes Washington, “I know not, and beg to be
instructed.”
“The numberless applications for employment by foreigners under their
respective appointments,” continues he, “add no small embarrassment to a
command, which, without it, is abundantly perplexed by the different
tempers I have to do with, and the different modes which the respective
States have pursued in nominating and arranging their officers; _the
combination of all which is but too just a representation of a great
chaos, from whence we are endeavoring, how successfully time only can
show, to draw some regularity and order_.”[51] How truly is here
depicted one of the great difficulties of his command, continually
tasking his equity and equanimity. In the present instance it was
intimated to Washington, that he was not bound by the tenor of
Lafayette’s commission to give him a command; but was at liberty to
follow his own judgment in the matter. This still left him in a delicate
situation with respect to the marquis, whose prepossessing manners and
self-sacrificing zeal inspired regard; but whose extreme youth and
inexperience necessitated caution. Lafayette, however, from the first
attached himself to Washington with an affectionate reverence, the
sincerity of which could not be mistaken, and soon won his way into a
heart, which, with all its apparent coldness, was naturally confiding,
and required sympathy and friendship; and it is a picture well worthy to
be hung up in history,—this cordial and enduring alliance of the calm,
dignified, sedate Washington, mature in years and wisdom, and the young,
buoyant, enthusiastic Lafayette.
The several divisions of the army had been summoned to the immediate
neighborhood of Philadelphia, and the militia of Pennsylvania, Delaware,
and the northern parts of Virginia were called out. Many of the militia,
with Colonel Proctor’s corps of artillery, had been ordered to
rendezvous at Chester on the Delaware, about twelve miles below
Philadelphia; and by Washington’s orders, General Wayne left his brigade
under the next in command, and repaired to Chester, to arrange the
troops assembling there.
As there had been much disaffection to the cause evinced in
Philadelphia, Washington, in order to encourage its friends and
dishearten its enemies, marched with the whole army through the city,
down Front and up Chestnut Street. Great pains were taken to make the
display as imposing as possible. All were charged to keep to their
ranks, carry their arms well, and step in time to the music of the drums
and fifes, collected in the centre of each brigade. “Though
indifferently dressed,” says a spectator, “they held well burnished
arms, and carried them like soldiers, and looked, in short, as if they
might have faced an equal number with a reasonable prospect of success.”
To give them something of a uniform appearance, they had sprigs of green
in their hats.
Washington rode at the head of the troops attended by his numerous
staff, with the Marquis Lafayette by his side. The long column of the
army, broken into divisions and brigades, the pioneers with their axes,
the squadrons of horse, the extended trains of artillery, the tramp of
steed, the bray of trumpet, and the spirit-stirring sound of drum and
fife, all had an imposing effect on a peaceful city unused to the sight
of marshalled armies. The disaffected, who had been taught to believe
the American forces much less than they were in reality, were astonished
as they gazed on the lengthening procession of a host, which, to their
unpractised eyes, appeared innumerable; while the whigs, gaining fresh
hope and animation from the sight, cheered the patriot squadrons as they
passed.
Having marched through Philadelphia, the army continued on to
Wilmington, at the confluence of Christiana Creek and the Brandywine,
where Washington set up his head-quarters, his troops being encamped on
the neighboring heights.
We will now revert to the other object of Washington’s care and
solicitude, the invading army of Burgoyne in the North; and will see how
far his precautionary measures were effective.