Adopted Son Page 14

  William Alexander, Lord Stirling, by Bass Otis, after an earlier engraving, 1858. A hard drinker and a harder fighter, Alexander was Washington’s oldest major general. His daughter “Miss Ketty” made Lafayette’s head swim, but he never conquered her. (INDEPENDENCE NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK)

  Stirling was a portly man with gray hair, who had married into wealth and built more. Much of his fortune had been destroyed by the British since the start of the war, and he seemed determined to spend what remained before he left the planet. He was a bluff, hard-drinking, and courageous man. Chastellux said, “[H]e is accused of liking the table and the bottle, full as much as becomes a lord, but more than becomes a general.” The chevalier did not like him much, calling him “old and rather dull.” His American colleagues thought otherwise. In a fight he was stone sober and energetic, inspiring confidence in his men and fellow generals. He had built the fortifications of New York City and was captured on Long Island. After he was exchanged, he fought ably in several actions. He was staunchly loyal to Washington and was one of the first to integrate Knox’s field artillery innovations into his own tactics. In the fight or out, he could be relied upon to do the right thing. Lafayette liked him immensely.49

  The other major general was Nathanael Greene, a thirty-seven-year-old rising star in the army. He was a man of average height, slope-shouldered, with a broad, friendly face and wide-set eyes. The marquis impressed him with his boyish enthusiasm, modesty, deference to his elders, courteous adherence to military etiquette, open idolization of Washington—and “inexplicable charm,” as he told his wife. As the commander in chief became an adoptive father to Lafayette, Greene stepped into the role of Dutch uncle, and the young fellow responded.

  Nathanael Greene, by C.W. Peale, 1783. Washington’s best major general, Greene became the first in a succession of “uncles” who looked out for Lafayette when he was away from his adoptive father. (INDEPENDENCE NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK)

  Greene walked with a slight limp from a stiff leg he had been born with. The son of prosperous Rhode Island Quakers, he grew up in the family business of mills, forges, and merchandising. As a boy he developed an interest in the Latin classics and mathematics, which offended his strict parents. In 1773 he began studying military treatises and memoirs, and he helped revise the state militia regulations. When he tried to join the militia, he was rebuffed because of his gimpy leg, and expelled from his pacifist Friends meeting. In 1774 he married outside the denomination.

  Greene raised his own militia company and started a friendship and intellectual partnership with Henry Knox. He became a brigadier general of state forces by May 1775, and a month later a brigadier in the Continental Army. During the siege of Boston he demonstrated twin talents as an organizer of supplies and as a diplomat soothing the jealousies between officers from various states. He became a major general in August 1776. Despite his fault in the Fort Washington disaster, Greene became the commander in chief’s most trusted adviser—to the extent that he was accused of “dominating” his superior. He proved at Trenton and in later campaigns that he was as brave as he was smart, an effective leader, and an outstanding strategist.50

  Lafayette’s simple decency set him apart from other European officers who had invaded the Continental Army, and he got along even with them. De Kalb acknowledged that when he complained about the bickering among the other French officers. “These people,” he raged, “think of nothing but their incessant intrigues and back-biting…. La Fayette is the sole exception…. La Fayette is much liked, he is on the best of terms with Washington.”51

  WE DON’T CARE HOW SOON HE BEGINS THE FROLICK

  Lafayette had joined a perilous cause. Washington’s army remained deficient in tactics, intelligence, and supplies, while its leader was still learning to command. The initiative in 1777 rested with the British. Washington could not make the first move as long as the enemy controlled the sea and could go where it pleased. The redcoats had decided to put down the American rebellion by force, and so they had to take the offense. Washington was content to let them do that, reacting so far as was within his army’s abilities. The British accommodated him. Rather than go after the Continental Army, the redcoats set out to conquer the map, and cast off their advantages of size, experience, and logistical support by dividing their forces and miring them down where they could not support each other.

  The two-pronged invasion of upper New York under General John Burgoyne was so hopeless that Washington felt little concern about it. It was a British disaster from the outset. When Burgoyne dispatched a Hessian brigade to raid Bennington, Vermont, militia swarmed to the scene, surrounded the enemy, and captured several hundred Hessians in the middle of August. Soon afterward, an invading army paralleling Burgoyne’s to the west ran for home when it heard a rumor that a large corps under Benedict Arnold was on its way.52

  That left the main force under “Gentleman Johnny” Burgoyne, a notorious London dandy, who burdened his column with his mistress and wagons full of luxuries. The rugged terrain of forests, swamps, and mountains would bring him to grief, Washington knew. The commander of the Northern Department, Schuyler, cut trees and threw every conceivable obstacle in the way as Burgoyne’s army gnawed through the landscape at the rate of under a mile a day. Congress, deciding that Schuyler was not aggressive enough, replaced him with Gates, who continued to prolong Burgoyne’s ordeal, not rushing into a fight.

  William Howe had spent months jousting with Washington, mostly in eastern New Jersey. But the “sly fox,” as he called the American, would not let himself be forced into an all-out battle, and after both armies had marched themselves nearly barefoot, he gave up. He should have gone north to help Burgoyne, but instead had a fixation on taking Philadelphia. Leaving Clinton behind in New York with vague orders to support Burgoyne but not enough resources to do it, the Howes sailed away with their main army and 260 ships and disappeared. They dithered away most of the campaign season sailing to and fro. Washington concluded that they posed no threat to the capital city, because it made no sense to take it. The American rebellion was lodged not in a place but in an army and a government, and they could be anywhere. Besides, if Howe wanted Philadelphia, he need only sail up the Delaware and walk into town. Instead, he had last been seen off the Delaware capes.

  On August 22, 1777, the day after Lafayette’s first council of war, Washington learned that the British had sailed into Chesapeake Bay. Howe was headed for Philadelphia after all, and from an unexpected direction. On August 25, the enemy began landing at Head of Elk, the upper end of navigation on the bay. The Americans formed up to meet them. “I am in hopes,” Greene wrote his wife, “Mr. How [sic] will give us a little time to collect, and then we don’t care how soon he begins the frolick.”53

  Lafayette, close beside Washington, rode out to do righteous battle.

  THE AMERICAN FIRE WAS MURDEROUS

  Alerting Major General John Sullivan, detached with his division in New Jersey, Washington assembled his main body and set out for Wilmington, Delaware, to see what Howe was up to at Head of Elk (now Elkton, Maryland). His route of march was through Philadelphia. Lafayette rode on Washington’s right, the rest of the family following. “With their heads adorned with green branches,” the marquis recalled, “and marching to the sound of drums and fifes, these soldiers, despite their nakedness, presented a pleasing spectacle to the eyes of all the citizens. The general shone at their head.”54

  Washington, Lafayette, and Greene taking shelter from a storm near Wilmington, before the start of the Brandywine Campaign. (LILLY LIBRARY, INDIANA UNIVERSITY)

  The army settled into position at Wilmington early in September, and Sullivan caught up with it, raising its total to about 11,000 men. Enemy numbers were about 12,500. Wanting a closer look, Washington, Greene, and Lafayette rode forward, spent a long day considering the prospects, then headed back to camp as dark fell. A sudden storm overtook them, and they sought shelter in a farmhouse, despite Greene’s objections that
Washington could be captured. They spent a forlorn night trying to dry off before a fire and returned to camp in the morning. When they rode out at dawn, Lafayette said, Washington “admitted that a single traitor could have betrayed him.”55

  Washington declined to tackle Howe in the open. When the redcoats and Hessians began their march, they angled to the left, planning to enter Philadelphia from the west. Washington moved between the enemy and the city and sent Greene out to find a good place to stop the invasion. Brandywine Creek seemed a likely bet. It was swift and deep, passable only at a series of shallow fords, flanked on either side by steep, wooded hills and ridges.56

  Washington had not yet developed a good tactical intelligence system. He had few cavalry and used them as flank guards rather than as scouts. The Americans did not know just how many fords crossed the creek, and they confused the names of ones they did know. Howe and Cornwallis did better. The majority of citizens fled before them in panic, but loyalists stayed, providing information and drawing maps.

  Washington established his headquarters east of Chadds Ford on September 10, 1777. There he placed two brigades and Greene’s division, with a detachment of 800 men across the creek. He told a Pennsylvania militia brigade to cover his left, along with some mounted men. He ordered Sullivan to cover all fords north of Chadds with his division, and sent two other divisions to the east where they could support either Greene or Sullivan. It was not a bad plan, except that there were more fords north of Sullivan than he knew.

  The morning of the eleventh dawned in thick fog, masking sight and sound until the sun burned through, making the day hot and steamy. Howe had moved out before five in the morning, sending out scouts in all directions, and divided his force, a risky maneuver. About 5,000 men under the Hessian general Wilhelm von Knyphausen headed for Chadds, drove the advance party back across the creek, then stood still while his cannons lobbed balls toward American gunners on the other side, who returned the favor. Neither side had much effect except to push the opposing infantry behind the treeline. Washington waited for Knyphausen to attack, and lost a good opportunity to attack him instead.

  General Cornwallis’ “grand division” of about 7,500 men, with Howe along, marched to the west, hidden by the terrain, covering seventeen miles in less than eleven hours. By the time they opened their part of the battle, Washington’s line extended almost ten miles. The enemy showed him how to concentrate forces where they were needed.

  Just before noon Washington received word of Cornwallis’ movements and ordered Stirling and General Adam Stephen to shift their divisions north to Birmingham Meeting House, to block the road to Chadds Ford. He could have brought superior force to bear, with Sullivan’s and Greene’s divisions, against the enemy across Chadds, except that he began receiving contradictory information. He countermanded Stirling and Stephen’s orders and waited to see what developed. Early in the afternoon, he received a frantic warning that he had been encircled. He renewed his orders to Stirling and Stephen and about four-thirty sent Sullivan to the north, where he assumed command of the whole right flank. Meanwhile, Knyphausen’s gunners stepped up their cannonade, pinning Washington down.

  The Battle of Brandywine, contemporary woodcut. This represents Sullivan’s division beginning to break as Cornwallis’ Hessians storm in from the left. (LILLY LIBRARY, INDIANA UNIVERSITY)

  Hell erupted to the north. Sullivan had been in this position before, on Long Island a year earlier. There he had also held a flank, which Howe swallowed after a jab at the army’s center, earning him a few months in captivity. His luck and his scouting were no better this day. Before he could get his division fully deployed to Stirling’s left, Cornwallis’ army stormed into him, having crossed an unknown ford far upstream. The sudden roar of British fusillades and the ragged crackle of Americans firing individually, punctuated by the thump of cannons, were heard at Washington’s post four miles away. Sullivan deployed, and the American troops gave as good as they got. Knox’s artillery, distributed to “stiffen” the infantry, was especially effective. But the enemy was superior in numbers and in technique. The redcoats and Hessians drove a wedge between Sullivan and Stirling, and soon Sullivan’s and Stephen’s men began to falter.

  Then Lafayette arrived on the smoke-filled battlefield. As Washington had been ordering Greene to move to Sullivan’s support, the marquis asked if he could ride up to observe the situation. Distracted, the commander in chief agreed.

  When the marquis got there, he said, “Milord Cornwallis’ men suddenly emerged from the woods in very good order. Advancing across the plain, his first line opened a very brisk fire with cannon and muskets. The American fire was murderous, but both their right and left wings collapsed.” Separating Stirling’s division from the other two on its flanks and advancing across an open field despite heavy losses, the redcoats concentrated their fire on the center. “The confusion,” said Lafayette, “became extreme.”57

  Greene’s division, having crossed four miles of goat hills in forty-five minutes, stormed onto the scene at about six o’clock, Washington close behind. Sullivan’s battalions were breaking, some scattering, some just falling back. Lafayette reacted instinctively and charged the fleeing men, riding his horse back and forth and shouting at them. Finally he dismounted and began shoving some to turn them around, slapping others on the back with the flat of his sword. By sheer force of will, he imposed order on his part of the line. Laurens also lunged into the fray, doing the same, getting himself soundly smacked in the ankle by a ricocheting musket ball. Even Lafayette was amazed at his friend’s recklessness. “It was not his fault that he was not killed or wounded,” he said, “he did every thing that was necessary to procure one or t’other.”58

  The noise was tremendous, and the young marquis’ blood was up. He did not feel it when an enemy ball, probably from a Hessian rifle, punched through his left calf. He and other officers kept trying to reverse the tide, but the enemy pressure was too great. Greene deployed his men, letting the retreating soldiers pass through. He stabilized the front, stopping the enemy advance.

  The generals and aides halted the fugitives behind a treeline in the rear. The army and its guns retreated behind Greene’s shield as darkness fell, and the exhausted redcoats and Hessians collapsed onto the ground. Human bodies, dead horses, and splintered trees covered the dimming, smoke-shrouded field. Meanwhile, in Washington’s absence Knyphausen had crossed Chadds Ford and driven back the Americans there. The militia on the left ran for home. Washington lost about 1,200 men, 400 of them prisoners. The enemy lost 577 killed and wounded, six missing.59

  The American army was defeated but not destroyed. Washington retreated toward Chester. At about that time, Lafayette’s aide Gimat saw blood seeping from the young general’s boot, found a horse, and hoisted him aboard. He rode along with the retreating army, helped only by a makeshift bandage Gimat had tied on him. At the Chester bridge he deployed troops to defend the crossing, and by the time Washington found him, the marquis was reeling in his saddle. The general summoned his surgeon, Dr. John Cochran, who applied first aid.

  Lafayette Wounded at Brandywine, an engraving by C. H. Jeens after an early-nineteenth-century painting by Alonzo Chappell. This echoes contemporary depictions of the deaths of Montcalm and Wolfe, which set a fashion for such scenes. The officer helping Lafayette is Gimat, while the figure on horseback may represent Lafayette’s slave, name unknown. (LILLY LIBRARY, INDIANA UNIVERSITY)

  Cochran, Lafayette’s aides, and Stirling’s aide Captain James Monroe (a future president) carried him to a nearby church for further dressing of the wound. Monroe had been wounded at Trenton, and consoled him on that score while giving his French some exercise. The marquis retained his sense of humor. He later claimed that other officers, looking very hungry, entered the room where he was resting on a table, and he asked them not to eat him.

  Washington arrived and ordered that he be put on a boat to Philadelphia. “Take care of him as if he were my son,” Lafayette
remembered the general saying, “for I love him the same.”60

  If Washington actually said such a thing, there is only Lafayette’s word to go by. He had every reason to be worried. He was already fond of the young man and feared for his well-being. Moreover, the marquis had been in the sort of danger Washington was supposed to keep him out of.61

  Lafayette was weak from loss of blood, not to mention his frenetic activity. He was a hero, and he had the wound to prove it. If this was martial glory, très bien. But did it have to hurt so much?62

  FIVE

  I Am Now Fixed to Your Fate

  (SEPTEMBER 1777–JANUARY 1778)

  And at last his eyes seemed to open to some new ways…. He knew that he would no more quail before his guides wherever they should point. He had been to touch the great death, and found that, after all, it was but the great death. He was a man.

  —STEPHEN CRANE