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  The grand show caused members of Congress to beg Washington to attack Philadelphia. His army had grown to over 13,000 men, and they faced just 10,000 British troops in the former capital. He had already put out a questionnaire to all general officers, asking their advice on three options—attack New York, Philadelphia, or Rhode Island. They ratified his Fabian strategy, as he told Congress, “to remain on the defensive and wait events, and not attempt any offensive operation against the enemy.”17

  THE GENERAL WELL KNEW WHAT HE WAS ABOUT

  The French alliance gave the British a basketful of troubles. For the first time, Britannia was in a world war without major allies, and it would get worse if Spain joined in. The need to protect the West Indies and India dominated strategic thinking, as did the threat of a French invasion of the British Isles. The London government limited military commitments to the colonies, ordered Howe to leave Philadelphia, and redirected forces to New York and Rhode Island. Troops in Canada would stay on the defensive, and there would be an effort to detach the southern states from the United States. There were so many potential theaters of war that it could become mostly a naval one, with the Royal Navy controlling the American coasts and the Caribbean islands. There was a peace commission in New York, headed by the Earl of Carlisle, but its mission was futile unless it granted independence. It was not allowed to do that.

  A French fleet could close the mouth of the Delaware River, taking Admiral Howe’s ships out of the war. That would strand General Howe unless he opened a supply line through hostile territory to New York. The card games and parties among Philadelphia’s loyalist elite were at an end. By the middle of May 1778, the Howes had decided to clear out, and orders arrived for the general to return to England, turning his command over to Clinton.

  Lafayette’s spies in the city and scouting parties out of Valley Forge reported that the British were up to something. Lafayette had showed that he could operate independently and prudently in the Canada incursion, his tantrums notwithstanding. On May 18 Washington gave him another chance to prove himself, putting him in command of about 2,200 men and five cannons. They were mostly light infantry from across the army, the rest 600 militia and scores of Morgan’s riflemen. The Iroquois warriors tagged along.

  Washington’s orders were unusually long and explicit, and definitely fatherly. He was taking a big chance by putting so much of his command in the hands of a twenty-year-old. The detachment, he said, was “designed to answer the following purposes—to be a security to this camp and a cover to the country between the Delaware and Schuylkil [sic]—to interrupt the communication with Philadelphia—obstruct the incursions of the enemies parties, and obtain intelligence of their motions and designs.” He offered an emphasis that would have insulted a more experienced general. “This last is a matter of very interesting moment, and ought to claim your particular attention. You will endeavor to procure trusty and intelligent spies, who will advise you faithfully of whatever may be passing in the city; and you will without delay communicate to me every piece of material information you obtain.”

  Washington explained that a variety of intelligence made it probable the enemy was preparing to evacuate Philadelphia. “This is a point which it is of the utmost importance to ascertain; and if possible the place of their future destination.” If Lafayette had a chance to attack the enemy’s rear while the redcoats were withdrawing, he should do so. “But this will be a matter of no small difficulty, and will require the greatest caution and prudence in the execution. Any deception or precipitation may be attended with the most disastrous consequences.”

  Washington warned the young general not to lunge headlong into battle. “You will remember,” he lectured, “that your detachment is a very valuable one, and that any accident happening to it would be a severe blow to this army. You will therefore use every possible precaution for its security, and to guard against a surprise. No attempt should be made nor any thing risked without the greatest prospect of success, and with every reasonable advantage on your side.” The commander in chief was not too pedantic, however. “I shall not point out any precise position to you,” he said, “but shall leave it to your discretion to take such posts occasionally as shall appear to you best adapted to the purposes of your detachment.” He advised that in general “a stationary post is unadviseable, as it gives the enemy an opportunity of knowing your situation and concerting successfully against you. In case of any offense [move]ment against this army, you will keep yourself in such a state as to have an easy communication with it and at the same [time] harrass [the] enemy’s advance.”

  The commander concluded with two items typical of his other orders. “Our parties of horse and [foot] between the rivers are to be under your command and to form part of your detachment,” he said, clarifying Lafayette’s authority. And looting would not be tolerated.18

  As Lafayette marched at the head of his detachment, across and then along the north bank of the Schuylkill, he should have clearly understood that he was to gather intelligence but avoid being detected. The best way to do that was not to spend too much time in any one spot. Above all, he was to keep in touch with the Main Army, making sure that he was not cut off. But the day was warm, the greenery was sprouting, the birds were singing, and he was so full of himself that he forgot what Washington had told him. After marching eleven miles downriver, about halfway to Philadelphia, he reached the top of a broad rise called Barren Hill. As he recalled in Caesarian terms later, it “was on a good elevation, with some rocks and the river on his right, some excellent stone houses and a small wood on his left, his front supported by five pieces of well-placed cannon, and some roads to his rear. He was expecting 100 dragoons who did not arrive in time, so he posted 600 militiamen on his left at Whitemarsh.”19

  The place had a nice view of Germantown and the road to Philadelphia, and it was a good base from which to send out scouting parties and dispatch spies into the city. He ordered his men to camp there. Despite Washington’s warnings, he stayed for two nights, and on the evening of May 19 the enemy found him. General Howe was at his own farewell party when word arrived that the marquis was on the near side of the Schuylkill with a large force. He promised the ladies that they would soon dine with the famous marquis de Lafayette, before he was sent to London as a prisoner. Howe and Clinton set out into the night with 8,000 men, aiming to bag “the boy.”20

  Major General James Grant led 5,000 men and fifteen guns to an intersection just over a mile north of Barren Hill. Major General Charles Grey marched 2,000 grenadiers and a troop of dragoons up the Germantown road to land on Lafayette’s left (east) flank. Howe and Clinton drove their detachment straight at the marquis’ southern front. Encircled on three sides by superior forces, trapped against the bluffs above the river, the boy would have to surrender.21

  The marquis and his men had been having a pleasant encampment. The Indians spent the first evening shooting at all sorts of things and stirred up a nest of bats in an old church. Otherwise, things were peaceful, and Lafayette let his guard down. On the morning of May 20, he was “chatting with a young lady,” he admitted later, explaining that she was willing to go to Philadelphia to spy for him. While they chatted, a messenger informed him that some redcoat dragoons were at Whitemarsh. That, he said, “was the uniform of those whom he was awaiting.”

  He was about to be cut off. When he asked for more information, he heard that a column was marching toward his left. He shifted his front and covered it with the houses, a little woods, and a cemetery. No sooner had he done that than he learned he had been cut off in the rear by Grant on the road to Swede’s Ford. At the same time, he also heard that Howe, Clinton, and the rest of the army were advancing along the road from Philadelphia.22

  Lafayette should not have stayed in the place two nights and should have had more pickets farther out. He had, however, a narrow avenue of escape along the river, so he ordered his men to form up and head out there. He sent out small detachments of infantry and riflemen
to snipe at the advancing enemy, then fade into the woods. This slowed the encircling forces enough that the army retreated smartly behind its rear guard.

  Private Joseph Plumb Martin, a young Connecticut volunteer who served in the Continental Army from the beginning of the war to the end, was there. “The quick motion in front kept the rear on a constant trot,” he remembered. There were two pieces of artillery in front and two in the rear of the detachment. The enemy had nearly surrounded the Americans by the time they began their retreat, but the road they were on was “very favourable,” because it ran through small woods and copses. When Martin and his unit were about halfway to the river, he saw the redcoat right wing across a meadow about half a mile away, “but they were too late; besides, they made a blunder here,—they saw our rear guard with the two fieldpieces in its front, and thinking it the front of the detachment, they closed in to secure their prey; but when they had sprung their net they found that they had not a single bird under it.” The British columns ran into each other, the rebels nowhere in sight.23

  The redcoats did not know what had happened to them. They had been fooled into thinking they were up against a larger force than Lafayette had. Sometime during the confusion, the marquis said, his Indian allies collided with a troop of British dragoons. “The war cries on one side and the appearance of the cavalry on the other surprised the two parties so much that they fled with equal speed.” The noise raised an alarm at Valley Forge, where Washington ordered three cannon shots fired, adding to Grant’s confusion. Lafayette led his army to safety across the river, and the exhausted British trudged back to the city.24

  His feints and dodges completely flustered the forces closing in on him. Private Martin thought the marquis had performed splendidly. “If any one asks,” he explained, “why we did not stay on Barren Hill till the British came up, and have taken and given a few bloody noses?—all I have to answer is, that the General well knew what he was about; he was not deficient in either courage or conduct, and that was well-known to all the revolutionary army.”25

  Washington agreed, praising him in his report to Congress. His failure to complete his mission and his nearly letting himself be trapped were forgotten, erased by the brilliance of the retreat. Making the redcoats look like fools more than made up for his errors.

  John Laurens had been an aide to the marquis during the expedition. “I make you my warmest thanks to have progenited a son like yours,” Lafayette told John’s father. The younger Laurens had been so helpful, “and tho’ you dint think much of me when you did get him, I however acknowledge myself under great obligatons to you for that so well performed work of yours.”

  Henry answered that racy compliment by saying, “Your Excellency’s notice of the young man, does himself & his father, too much honor.” The elder Laurens raved about the “applause” being heaped on Lafayette at the capital and said he had sent an account to the newspapers. The young general replied modestly that if there was something to be praised in the late retreat, it was much more “owing to the intelligence and exertions of the officers, to the spirit and good order of the soldiers” than to any merit of his own. With men like that, he crowed, “I schall willingly meet the best english troops upon equal terms.”26

  The “good order of the soldiers” reflected the wonders worked by Steuben. There was a general feeling at the time that the sterling performance of the Continental Army at Barren Hill, and later at Monmouth, was owing to Steuben’s efforts. That was the case, but it can be exaggerated, because most of the troops he trained were experienced. He simplified and imposed uniformity on their maneuvers. When Lafayette gave his commands, the troops knew instantly what to do, and they did it compactly. The old straggling columns would never have dodged the British trap, and “the boy” would have dined in Philadelphia.27

  Lafayette himself deserved the major credit for what happened at Barren Hill. Even more than at Gloucester, he showed a talent for handling light troops. Washington asked Congress to order several reorganizations of the army in May 1778, one to expand the light infantry. Under Steuben’s influence, the commander in chief abandoned the idea of modeling his army on the British one, and the light infantry doctrine of the American army marked a sharp departure from European practices. Those provided for some light troops, mostly as skirmishers, but held that they should also be trained as line (heavy) troops, because they were expected to fall back into the line once the main action began. Washington’s army now trained all its infantry as both line and light, and expanded the part of the army formally designated as light. Their tactics were open and flexible.

  Private Martin transferred to the light infantry later that summer and complained that the duty there was the hardest while in the field of any troops in the army, “if there is any hardest about it.” When the army was in the field the light troops were always nearest the enemy, “and consequently always on the alert, constantly on the watch.” Marching and keeping guard, along with all the other duties of troops on campaign, fell “plentifully to their share.” He concluded ruefully, “There is never any great danger of light infantry men dying of the scurvy.” The kind of independent deployment he described would have been unthinkable for rigidly disciplined European regulars.28

  The use of light troops would have profound effects on the outcome of the war. And Lafayette, with his gift for that kind of fighting, took his tactics to Europe afterward and set off a chain of developments that would change how battles were fought there.29

  HIS COUNTRYMEN SOON FIND ACCESS TO HIS HEART

  Washington’s warm approval after Barren Hill was the action’s most satisfying result for Lafayette. The acclaim pouring down on him from Congress, other soldiers, and the citizenry inflated an ego that did not need more air. The boy general got out of line, prescribing diplomatic and military actions for the United States and France, formally telling the president of Congress about his proposal for a pirate campaign in the West Indies. Suggesting that it appeared the French government would go along, he passed along his correspondence with the governor of Martinique. At the same time, he sent a personal letter to Laurens, asking, “Do’nt you think that if the king agrees to it, the scheme could be very advantageous to your country on every respect?”30

  Two days later the marquis had second thoughts. He warned that his correspondence with the governor should not be interpreted as approval by the French government. The governor would find himself “compromised in some respects if his majesty had right by an answer of Congress to believe that the governor has anticipated his orders.” Lafayette suggested that Laurens present the idea to Congress as his own.31

  Laurens had already answered his first messages. “You have encouraged me to this freedom of address,” he said, setting Lafayette up for a fall. “One of your letters is so very comical, I can’t attempt a particular reply, if I did, there would follow such a mixture of laughter & serious reflecsion as would detain a very short letter an hour.” He had consulted another member on whether to present Lafayette’s proposal to Congress, and “he advises, not for the present.” Once he received the marquis’ cautionary letter, he complimented his “determination to withhold that which relates to the West India enterprise.” Still hoping that he might yet sail with the pirates of the Caribbean, the deflated Lafayette bowed to “[w]hatever you will think proper, my dear sir.”32

  The young soldier was still torn in his loyalties between France and Washington. He had started his whole American adventure wanting to earn glory in France. Now that his country was in the war, he told de Francy, he hoped for a recall from the king. If he did not receive one, he felt free to do what he pleased. In that case he would not hesitate to join the French army wherever in the world he could fight on their side. His ego needed some stroking from home, and he refused to go back unless he was invited. He feared the British peace commission and did not trust Congress to resist Lord Carlisle’s advances. He would “be annoyed” if peace were made “without obtaining Canada,” a subject
that was gradually becoming an obsession with him.33

  Lafayette’s desire to stay with Washington also was growing. He was grateful for the Barren Hill assignment and expected more. At some point it dawned on him that the alternative was to be a little frog in the great pond of the French army. But he pictured himself as the sole defender of France’s honor, which would be stained if the Americans made a separate peace. The great enemy of both countries was Carlisle’s mission, so he set out to discredit its members. He scorned their offer of a pardon to all American rebels. “Ay, my dear sir,” he warned Laurens, “never suffer such a people to approach you.” He told Adrienne he could not return home because he was needed to fight the commission. “Besides, my heart has always been completely convinced that in serving the cause of humanity and that of America, I was fighting for the interests of France.”34

  Laurens calmed him down, showing no irritation at his lack of confidence in Congress. He told the marquis that the members had rejected any offers from the British government short of full independence and the withdrawal of all military forces. The answer from Congress to the commissioners was “a fine peace [sic],” Lafayette acknowledged.35

  The marquis continued recommending French officers for commissions in the army, so often that he annoyed many in Congress. Just before turning the presidency over to Gouverneur Morris, Laurens asked him to stop it. Washington also was irritated, but not by Lafayette. The foreigners were a constant headache, and Steuben had begun pestering him for command of a division. Washington told Morris that he objected to promoting men who first said they wished for nothing more than “the honor of serving so glorious a cause as volunteers,” then asked for rank without pay, next wanted money advanced to them, finally wanted further promotions, and were “not satisfied with any thing you can do for them.” Since the French entry into the war, the problem had grown. “I do most devoutly wish,” he declared, “that we had not a single foreigner among us, except the Marquis de Lafayette, who acts upon very different principles from those which govern the rest.”36