The abandonment of Philadelphia by the British army, as anticipated by Washington, had become a military necessity. The city was too remote from the coast, unless its army of occupation could be so reënforced as to be independent of support from the British base at New York. The reënforcements of troops called for by General Howe had not been and could not have been furnished. The recommendation of General Amherst, military adviser of George III., “that forty thousand men be sent to America immediately,” had been positively disapproved. It was therefore of vital importance that General Clinton should reach New York with the least possible delay. Any attempt to return by sea was obviously impracticable.
The incidents of the evacuation of Philadelphia were similar to those which marked the departure of Howe from Boston. The embarkation of three thousand citizens with their families, their merchandise, and their personal effects, upon vessels, to accompany the retiring fleet, was a moral lesson of vast significance. This withdrawal of the British garrison was no ruse, to entice the American army from its camp, for battle, but a surrender of the field itself, without a struggle. It announced to America and to the world, that the British army lacked the ability to meet the contingencies of field service, either in Pennsylvania or New Jersey; and that loyalists would be left to their own resources for protection and safety.
Other considerations precipitated the action of Clinton. Congress had publicly announced the impending arrival of a formidable French fleet from the West Indies; and, as a matter of fact, so immediate was its advent, that the advance frigates entered the Delaware Bay, just after Admiral Howe turned Cape May, on his return to New York. Meanwhile, every movement in the city was hourly reported to Washington by his secret messengers, and by families who kept constantly in touch with all movements of the garrison. Hardly a ball or social dinner, during the entire winter, was without the presence of one or more of his representatives, who as promptly reported the secret influences which were making of the city a deadly prison-house for the British troops. Even at the playhouses, comedians had begun to jest upon the “foraging of the rebel scouts”; and it is said to have been hinted, on one occasion, that “there were chickens and eggs in abundance outside the lines, if the soldiers would take the trouble to go after them,” and that “it was hardly the right thing to let Washington’s ragged army have the pick of all country produce.”
The actual evacuation began at three o’clock on the morning of June eighteenth, and the entire British army was on the New Jersey side of the Delaware by ten o’clock. Washington had so closely calculated the movement, that General Maxwell’s brigade and the New Jersey militia were already at work burning bridges and felling trees across the roads, in order to delay Clinton’s march and afford an opportunity for attacking his retiring columns. General Arnold, whose wound still prevented field service, entered the city with a strong detachment as the British rear-guard left. Twelve miles of baggage-train, loaded with everything of army supplies that could be heaped upon wagons, formed the long extended caravan which accompanied nearly eighteen thousand British veterans as they returned to New York, whence they had started only eleven months before. The capture of the American capital and the destruction of the American army had been their fondest desire. Now, they shrunk away from the same American capital as from a pest-house. There was no longer an eager search to find Washington. To make the earliest safe distance from his presence, or his reach, was the incentive to the speediest possible travel. It was no longer the destruction of that one principal American army that engrossed thought and stimulated energy; but how to save the British army itself, for efficient service elsewhere. And Washington, although fully appreciating the British situation, did not know the fact that the British cabinet were actually discussing, at that very time, the propriety of transferring all active operations to the more sparsely settled regions of the South.
The movements in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, as well as those of Burgoyne, away from the sea-coast, recall an emphatic communication from General Howe, which contained this practical statement: “Almost every movement in America was an act of enterprise, clogged with innumerable difficulties. A knowledge of the country, intersected, as it everywhere is, by woods, mountains, water or morasses, cannot be obtained with any degree of precision necessary to foresee and guard against the contingencies that may occur.”
Washington was also fully advised of the character and extent of Clinton’s retiring column, and of the opportunity which the country afforded for breaking it up. Haste was the need of Clinton. His delay, however slight, was Washington’s opportunity. Clinton reached Haddonfield the same day. The militia of Maxwell made a short resistance, and then retired to Mount Holy Pass. The increased British vanguard compelled him to fall back; but the destruction of bridges and interposed obstructions, together with the excessive summer heat, made the march of the British troops one of intense strain and exhaustion. And yet, Clinton used such vigor in pressing forward to anticipate more formidable obstructions, that he reached Crosswicks before the destruction of the bridge at that point was complete; and on the morning of the twenty-fourth, his army crossed the creek. The column of Lieutenant-General Knyphausen went into camp at Imlay’s Town; while that of Clinton occupied Allentown, and thereby effectively covered the advance division in case of an American attack from the north. At this point, he learned that Washington had already crossed the Delaware, and that the northern army was expected to unite with that of the American Commander-in-Chief. Such a combination, just then, would render a direct retreat to New York, via Princeton and Brunswick, extremely hazardous, if not impossible. With the promptness which characterized him, Sir Henry Clinton consolidated his baggage and sent it in advance under Lieutenant-General Knyphausen; placed the second division in light marching order, under his own personal command, in the rear, and took the Monmouth route to the sea. (See map.)
Washington was quickly advised of this organic change in the British formation, and acted instantly. He had crossed the Delaware River at Coryell’s Ferry, forty miles above Philadelphia, without assurance of the definite purpose of his adversary. Any other route of march by Clinton than by Brunswick, would prevent him from receiving military support from New York, and hold him to the limit of supplies with which he started from Philadelphia. When, therefore, couriers from Maxwell notified Washington of Clinton’s diversion eastward, from Crosswicks, it was evident that Clinton would take no risks of battle in reaching New York, or some port on the coast accessible by a British fleet.
Colonel Morgan was sent with five hundred men to reënforce Maxwell. On the twenty-fourth, General Scott, with fifteen hundred chosen troops, was despatched to reënforce those in the immediate vicinity of the enemy, more effectually to retard their retreat. On the twenty-sixth, Washington moved the entire army to Kingston; and learning that the British army was moving directly toward Monmouth, advanced an additional force of one thousand men under General Wayne, placing General Lafayette in command of the entire corps, including the brigade of Maxwell and Morgan’s Light Infantry. Orders were also sent to Lafayette: “Take the first opportunity to strike the rear of the enemy.”
Some writers have involuntarily followed Lee’s theory, that the attempt by Washington to stop Clinton’s retreat and to defeat so large and so well-appointed an army as that of the British general, was folly from the start; but such critics overlook the determining facts of the situation. Washington never counted numbers so much as conditions. He never swerved from a steady purpose to wear out superior numbers by piecemeal, until they were at his mercy or so benumbed by his strokes as to yield the field. Hence it is seen, that with all his approaches to the retiring columns of Clinton, he never failed to hold in complete reserve and mastery every conceivable contingency of a general engagement. Moreover, as a matter of fact, his army, reënforced from the north, was not inferior in numbers; was unencumbered with baggage, and was not exposed to attack. A fight was a matter of choice, and not at the option of the enemy. It is therefore of essential interest to notice how systematically Washington advanced in this memorable campaign of Clinton’s March to the Sea. It is of equal interest to notice the development of the career of Lafayette, under Washington’s supervision and confidence; since America is more indebted to this discreet and gallant officer than to any other, for the immediate service which assured the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, three years later in the war.
At half-past four of the afternoon of June 26th, Lafayette and Wayne were at Robin’s tavern. Lafayette thus wrote to the Commander-in-Chief: “I have consulted the general officers of this detachment, and the general opinion seems to be, that I should march in the night, near them [the enemy], so as to attack the rear-guard on the march. Your excellency knows that by the direct road you are only three miles further from Monmouth than we are in this place. Some prisoners have been made, and deserters are coming in very fast.”
Second despatch, 5 o’clock P.M.: “General Forman is firmly of opinion, that we may overtake the enemy. It is highly pleasant to be followed and countenanced by the army; that, if we stop the enemy and meet with some advantage, they may push it with vigor. I have no doubt but if we overtake them, we possess a very happy chance.”
Third despatch, dated Ice Town, 26th June, 1778, quarter before seven: “When I got there [referring to a previously expressed purpose to go to Ice Town for provisions], I was sorry to hear that Mr. Hamilton [Colonel Alexander Hamilton of Washington’s staff], who had been riding all night, had not been able to find any one who could give him certain intelligence: but by a party who came back, I hear the enemy are in motion and their rear about one mile off the place they had occupied last night, which is seven or eight miles from here. I immediately put General Maxwell’s and Wayne’s brigades in motion, and I will fall lower down, with General Scott’s and Jackson’s regiments and some militia. I should be very happy if we could attack them before they halt. If I cannot overtake them, we could lay at some distance and attack them to-morrow morning.... If we are at a convenience from you, I have nothing to fear in striking a blow, if opportunity is offered.”
“Special.—If you believe it, or if it is believed necessary, or useful, to the good of the service and the honor of General Lee, to send him down with a couple of thousand men, or any greater force, I will cheerfully obey and serve him, not only out of duty, but what I owe to that gentleman’s character.”
The explanation of this passage is of interest, as it happily illustrates the spirit with which Washington and Lafayette operated in this important engagement, where very grave discretionary responsibility devolved upon so young an officer as the French Marquis.
Daily conferences were held by Washington with his officers after leaving Valley Forge, and especially after leaving Kingston. The official Reports of Washington show that Lee positively declined the command of this advance corps, until its large increase rendered it certain that it held a post of honor, and would be pushed upon the enemy. Lafayette was first assigned to this command after a hot debate in council as to the propriety of attacking Clinton’s army at all; and General Lee used the following language, when the assignment of Lafayette was made with his concurrence, that “he was well pleased to be freed from all responsibility for a plan which he was sure would fail.” But when Lafayette gladly accepted the detail, and was so constantly reënforced as to have under his command nearly one-third of the army, with the pledge of support by the entire army, General Lee, as next in rank to Washington, immediately realized his grave mistake, and when too late, claimed the command by virtue of his rank. He then wrote to General Lafayette as follows: “It is my fortune and my honor that I place in your hands; you are too generous to cause the loss of either.” Lafayette, in his Memoirs, thus alludes to this surrender by Lee of claim to command by virtue of rank, after having peremptorily and scornfully declined it: “This tone suited me better”; and the letter already cited was his response. Washington’s reply to this magnanimous waiver by Lafayette of so honorable a command is as follows: “General Lee’s uneasiness on account of yesterday’s transaction, rather increasing than abating, and your politeness in wishing to ease him of it, have induced me to detach him from this army with a part of it, to reënforce, or at least to cover the several detachments at present under your command. At the same time, I have an eye to your wishes; and have therefore obtained a promise from him, that when he gives you notice of his approach and command, he will request you to prosecute any plan you may have already concerted for the purpose of attacking, or annoying, the enemy. This is the only expedient I could think of, to answer the views of both. General Lee seems satisfied with this measure.”
On the evening of the twenty-sixth, the entire army moved forward, leaving all superfluous baggage, so as best to support the advance. On the twenty-seventh, a severe rain-storm suspended the march for a few hours. But the advance corps had been strengthened, as suggested by Lafayette; and when Lee assumed command it numbered fully five thousand effective troops. The main army also advanced within three miles of English Town and within five miles of the British army. The American forces, now eager for battle, were equal in numbers to the enemy, with the advantage of being on the flank of the long extended British columns which could not be consolidated for action with their full strength.
A general idea of the skirmishes of the morning, without elaboration of details, can be obtained from the map.
At the extreme right, on the Middletown road, Knyphausen conducts the accumulated baggage-train, which, on the night of June twenty-seventh, is shown to have been distributed along the road approaching Freehold (Monmouth). Upon the high ground, below, Clinton gathered his forces as they arrived from the march. Lafayette was near the Court-House, and had a sharp skirmish with the Queen’s Rangers. He disposed his army northward, with skirmishers as far advanced as Bryar Hill—even threatening the pass by which Knyphausen had retired toward New York. The baggage column, as early as seven o’clock, had passed the Court-House. Lee appeared upon the field and practically took command, but exercised no direction over movements; gave contradictory orders when he gave any; and brigade after brigade failed to obtain from him instructions as to their movements, or their relations to other brigades. At first, Lee announced that the “entire British army was in retreat.” When Clinton, after eight o’clock, descended from his position to attack the scattered and irregular formation of the American army, Lafayette, full of hope, was first advised that a retreat had been ordered by General Lee. He protested in vain. The brigades were allowed each to seek its own choice of destination; and all fell back under a general impression, rather than specific orders, that all were to retreat and simply abandon demonstration against the British army. Clinton’s continued advance, even so far as Wenrock Creek, is indicated on the map.
The truth of history requires a statement which has never been sufficiently defined, as to the antecedents of this overestimated officer, Charles Lee. As a subaltern in the British army, he had been uniformly insubordinate, and was in discredit when he was allowed to go abroad and fight under various flags as a military adventurer. He knew nothing of handling a large command, or combined commands. Before the Battle of Monmouth, if then, he had never been under fire in the lead of American troops. He was cool enough and brave enough at Monmouth, to retreat with his division; but it was saved chiefly by the self-possession of its officers, and the wonderful endurance of the rank and file. He was unequal to the command, even if he had desired battle. To have fought the battle, with any chance of being taken prisoner, would have exposed him to a double penalty for treason at the hands of General Howe. He was in the attitude of defeating his “plan” (before alluded to), and defeating the very invasion which he had so ingeniously advised.
The increasing cannonading, before noon, aroused Washington to his full fighting capacity. The return of an aid-de-camp, with the information that General Lee had “overtaken the British army and expected to cut off their rear-guard,” was regarded as an omen of complete success. The soldiers cast off every encumbrance and made a forced march. Greene took the right, and Stirling the left; while Washington in person, conducting the vanguard, moved directly to the scene of conflict.
All at once, the animation of the Commander-in-Chief lost its impulse. A mounted countryman rode by in fright, a wild fugitive. A half-distracted musician, fife in hand, cried “All’s lost!” A few paces more, and over the brow of a small rise of ground overlooking the creek and bridge, toward which scattered fragments of regiments were pressing, the bald fact needed no other appeal to the American Commander-in-Chief to assure him of the necessity for his immediate presence. Harrison and Fitzgerald, of his staff, were despatched to learn the cause of the appearances of fugitives from their respective commands. They met Major Ogden, who replied to their excited demands, with an expletive: “They are fleeing from a shadow.” Officer after officer, detachment after detachment, came over the bridge, ambiguous in replies, seemingly ignorant of the cause of retreat, only that retreat had been ordered. Neither was the movement in the nature of a panic. Hot and oppressive as was the day, there was simply confusion of all organized masses, needing but some competent will to restore them to place and duty.
Washington advanced to the bridge, and allowed neither officer nor man to pass him. In turn, he met Ramsey, Stewart, Wayne, Oswald, and Livingston. To each he gave orders, assigned them positions, and directed them to face the enemy. Leading the way, he placed Ramsey and Stewart, with two guns, in the woods to the left, with orders to stop pursuit. On the right, back of an orchard, he placed Varnum, Wayne, and Livingston; while Knox and Oswald, with four guns, were established to cover their front. When Maxwell and other generals arrived, they were sent to the rear to re-form their columns and report back to him for orders. Lafayette was intrusted with the formation of a second line until he could give the halted troops a position which they might hold until he could bring the entire army to their support.
It was such an hour as tests great captains and proves soldiers. The ordeal of Valley Forge had made soldiers. In the presence of Washington they were knit to him as by bands of steel. Company after company sprang into fresh formation as if first coming on parade.
With the last retreating detachment, Lee appeared, and to his astonished gaze, there was revealed a new formation of the very troops he had ordered to seek safety in retreat. Tn reply to his demand for the reason of this disposition of the troops, he was informed that Washington, in person, located the troops. He understood that his personal command ceased with the arrival of the Commander-in-Chief, and he reported for orders. He had no time to speak, when he met this stern peremptory demand, “What does this mean, sir? Give me instantly an explanation of this retreat!” Appalled by the wrathful manner and awfully stern presence of Washington, as with drawn sword he stood in his stirrups, towering above the abashed officer, Lee could only answer mechanically, “Sir? Sir?” The demand was repeated with an emphasis that hushed every observer. Washington’s manner, bearing and tone, are described by those who stood awe-bound by the scene, as “more than human.” It was as if Liberty herself had descended to possess the form of her champion!
All who felt his presence bent their wills as rushes yield to the tempest,—so immediate, so irresistible was his mastery of the occasion. When the half suppliant officer ventured to explain that “the contradictory reports as to the enemy’s movements brought about a confusion that he could not control,” and ventured farther to remind his Commander-in-Chief that he “was opposed to it in council, and while the enemy was so superior in cavalry we could not oppose him,” Washington, with instant self-control, replied: “You should not have undertaken it unless prepared to carry it through; and whatever your opinions, orders were to be obeyed.” Again turning to the silent officer, he asked one single question. It was this: “Will you remain here in front, and retain command while I form the army in the rear; or shall I remain?” Lee remained, until ordered to return to English Town and assist in rallying the fugitives that assembled there. It requires more time to outline the events of a few precious moments at such a crisis than the events themselves occupied. The map discloses the final position. Greene was on the right, Stirling was on the left—where an admirable position of artillery prepared him to meet the British columns. Lafayette occupied a second line, on slightly higher ground in the rear. Greene sent six guns to McComb’s Hill, where they could direct enfilading fire upon the British columns, already advancing against the position in which Washington had placed Wayne, Varnum and Livingston.
The real Battle of Monmouth had begun. The British forces were repulsed at every point. At the hedge-row, three brilliant charges were made, and Lieutenant-Colonel Monckton of the British Grenadiers was among the killed. As the day advanced, Lee reported in person, and again requested “his excellency’s pleasure,” whether to form his division “with the main body, or draw them up in the rear.” He was ordered to re-form them in the rear of English Town, three miles distant. Baron Steuben was also on duty at that point. When, about five o’clock, all cannonading ceased in the direction of the battlefield, Colonel Gimât, of Washington’s staff, arrived at English Town with an order for the advance of the troops which had been re-formed under Lee’s supervision; announcing that the British were in confusion. Colonel Gimât stated in his evidence before the court-martial which subsequently tried Lee, that when he communicated this order to that officer Lee replied, that “they were only resting themselves, and there must be some misunderstanding about your being ordered to advance with these troops”; “and it was not until General Muhlenburg halted, and the precise orders of Washington were repeated, that Lee could understand that the cessation of firing was occasioned by the retreat of Clinton, and not by the defeat of Washington.”
During the evening, the American army advanced, ready for a general attack upon the British troops, at daybreak. Washington, with a small escort, visited every picket. The position was made impregnable, and the army was in the best possible spirits for a complete victory, and expected victory.
At 10 o’clock at night, Clinton silently broke camp and departed for Middletown, where he joined Knyphausen, reaching New York on the last day of June. The British and the American casualties were each about three hundred, some of these being deaths from excessive heat. It appeared afterwards, that the desertions from the British army numbered nearly two thousand men.
European comments upon this battle were as eulogistic of the American Commander-in-Chief as after the battles of Trenton, Princeton, and Germantown. The historian Gordon says of Washington, upon his reaching the battlefield: “He animated his forces by his gallant example, and exposed his person to every danger common to the meanest soldier; so that the conduct of the soldiers in general, after recovering from the first surprise occasioned by the retreat, could not be surpassed.”
General Lee was tried for disobedience of orders in not attacking the enemy; for misbehavior before the enemy; a disorderly retreat; and insolent letters sent to the Commander-in-Chief, after the battle, and was sentenced to “suspension from command for twelve months.” A reasonable self-control, which he never had exercised, might, even at this crisis of his history, have saved him his commission. He died ignominiously, and even in his will perpetuated his hatred of religion and his Maker. An abstract of the testimony taken upon his trial shows that the adjustment of the advance troops by General Lafayette was admirable; that up to the time when Lee ordered a retreat without consulting him, all the troops were steady in their positions, awaiting some systematic orders from Lee, who had just taken command; that Lee did not intend to force the battle which Lafayette had organized; that brigades and detachments had no information of adjoining commands, or supports; that when Lee’s orders for a general retreat reached brigades, each brigade moved more through example than instructions, without direction or intimation of any new formation, or any reason for the retreat.
Recent writers have revived the tradition as to Washington’s alleged profanity at the Battle of Monmouth. It would seem that either Charles Lee, or his witnesses, or the witnesses of the United States, under cross-examination, immediately after the occurrence, would have testified to such words, if spoken, for the sake of vindicating Lee, when his commission and honor were in jeopardy. Every witness agrees with Lee as to language used; but none imply profanity. Silence in this respect is, prima facie, the strongest possible legal evidence in disproval of the charge.
One of the most eminent of American historians, in a footnote, thus attempts to verify this vague tradition respecting Washington: “It is related that when Lafayette visited this country in 1825, he was the guest of Chief Justice Hornblower at Newark, N.J., and that while seated on his front porch, one evening, Lafayette remarked that the only time when he ‘ever heard Washington swear, was when he rebuked Lee at meeting him on his retreat at Monmouth.’” The late Justice Bradley, who married a daughter of Judge Hornblower, in a letter, thus meets this statement: “Nothing of the kind ever occurred. Lafayette did not stay at Mr. Hornblower’s, but at the principal public house of the city. There he was visited; but the subject of the Battle of Monmouth was not mentioned.”
Lafayette does not, in his Memoirs, make such a charge; nor in letters to his wife, which were voluminous in sketches of his beloved commander. Invariably, he exalts the character of Washington, as “something more divine than human.”
An additional statement, however, is given, to indicate the intensity of feeling and excitement of manner which characterized Washington’s deportment on the occasion referred to. The late Governor Pennington, of New Jersey, afterwards Speaker of the American House of Representatives, was a pupil of Dr. Asahel Green, President of Princeton College, and related this incident of his college career: “Dr. Green lectured on Moral Philosophy, and used as his text-book Paley’s work on that subject. When engaged on the chapter relative to profane swearing, after Dr. Green had dilated on the subject, expanding Paley’s argument on the uselessness and ungentlemanliness of the vice, and the entire absence of any excuse for it, some roguish student put to him this question: ‘Dr. Green, did not Washington swear at Lee, at the Battle of Monmouth?’ Now, the doctor was present during the battle, in fact, a chaplain in the service, although a young man, and was an enthusiastic admirer, almost worshipper, of General Washington. When the question was put to him, he drew himself up with dignity and said: ‘Young man, that great man did, I acknowledge, use some hasty and incautious words at the Battle of Monmouth, when Lee attempted to excuse his treacherous conduct: but, if there ever was an occasion on which a man might be excused for such forgetfulness, it was that occasion!’”
In reply to an insolent letter written by General Lee immediately after the battle, in which he protested against “very singular expressions used on the field, which implied that he was either guilty of disobedience of orders, of want of conduct, or want of courage,” Washington replied: “I received your letter, expressed, as I conceive, in terms highly improper. I am not conscious of any very singular expressions at the time of my meeting you, as you intimate. What I recollect to have said, was dictated by duty and warranted by the occasion.”
As at Kipp’s Bay, when Washington denounced the panic as “dastardly and cowardly,” and tradition called that “profanity,”—thus, at Monmouth, Washington rebuked Lee’s conduct. Lee’s letter, just cited, conveys his estimate of Washington’s words and manner. He also testified, that it was “manner rather than words” that gave him offence.
The Battle of Monmouth, from first to last, was a supreme test of Washington the Soldier. From Monmouth, he marched to Brunswick, where he rested his troops; thence to Haverstraw Bay; and finally, on the twenty-second day of July, he established his summer headquarters at White Plains.
Note.—Washington’s Military Order Book, from the 22nd of June to 8th of August, 1779, in his own hand-writing, contains the following General Order.
“Many and pointed Orders have been issued against that unmeaning and abominable custom of swearing,—notwithstanding which, with much regret the General observes that it prevails if possible, more than ever. His feelings are continually wounded by the oaths and imprecations of the soldiers whenever he is in hearing of them. The name of that Being from whose bountiful goodness we are permitted to exist and enjoy the Comforts of life is incessantly imprecated and profaned in a manner as wanton as it is shocking. For the sake therefore of religion, decency and order, the General hopes and trusts that officers of every rank will use their influence and authority to Check a vice which is as unprofitable as it is wicked and shameful. If officers would make it an invariable rule to reprimand and, if that does not do—punish soldiers for offences of the kind, it would not fail of having the desired effect.”