The Glorious Cause, page 53
To this point the accounts of the battle are merely murky; after it they are confused and confusing. Artillery on both sides fired, and the American regiments evidently shifted their positions on the orders of their commanders and of Lee. What Lee was about, he kept to himself, though he did pull a part of his force back. Whatever he intended he simply produced uncertainty in Maxwell, Colonel Charles Scott, and Wayne on the left. A withdrawal on the right left them exposed, and they pulled their troops back. Within a few minutes the entire American force was in retreat. Several regiments seem to have kept their integrity and retired in good order. Others collided and mingled, giving the impression, largely accurate, that the withdrawal was a rout.
Almost all of the American commanders—Wayne, Scott, Maxwell—reported a few days later that they had received no orders from Lee. He told neither them nor anyone else what should be done. As serious in their eyes was his failure to designate a line, or a position, from which a stand might be made. His accusers were unfair to him: Lee did not deliberately conceal his destination—he did not know it. Shortly after the retreat began he sent Duportail, the French engineer, to reconnoiter a hill to the rear where perhaps a defense could be established. Duportail followed orders, looked the hill over—it was just west of Middle Ravine—and pronounced it suitable. When Lee with his sweating army arrived at this hill, he found it less than desirable. Not far from it lay several others which would have given the British higher ground—or so Lee conjectured.
Anthony Wayne with most of the troops in the advance pulled back in complete bewilderment. Wayne had not received an order to attack nor did he receive one to retreat. But he and Scott had withdrawn their forces after repeatedly begging Lee for reinforcements so they could attack, only to discover that the American right, to the south and east of the village, had disappeared. Wayne and Scott both believed that the Americans in the advance force outnumbered the British opposing them—and they wanted to attack. Scott, a half-mile from the court house and well across East Ravine when the right evaporated, felt dreadfully exposed—and was. The British cavalry does not seem to have discovered just how vulnerable he was as most of his troops lay concealed in woods. Still, Scott’s regiments were nearly cut off and escaped only by filing off to the left under cover.
Since Lee issued few orders before the retreat and drew up no plan, there is no way of telling exactly what he intended. After the battle, charged in a court-martial for failing to attack the enemy and for retreating, he defended himself by arguing that he hoped to cut the British rear guard off from the main body by attacking its flanks and rear.55 As Lee reconstructed the day of the battle, retreat occurred only after Scott withdrew, leaving the American left hanging in air, while on the right the British had begun a sweep that threatened to turn his flank. About this time he received “certain intelligence” that Clinton’s main body was bearing down on him from the Middletown Road. Exposed on the left, he had no choice—he concluded—but to draw back his forces, a movement performed with “order and precision.” Almost no one else discerned this order and precision. Nor did any of the regimental and brigade commanders believe that the withdrawal was necessary. There had been no major battle; they had fought skirmishes and done well in them; casualties were light, though the heat, close to 100°F by midmorning, took its toll. And yet here they were, a disorderly mass in full retreat.
Washington shared their bewilderment when, in advance of his main force, he encountered Lee’s troops near West Ravine. He and his aides asked for explanations of the officers they met and soon found Lee himself. The interview that followed was short, with Washington angrily demanding to know the meaning of what he saw, and Lee managing only a “Sir! Sir!” and then a series of complaints about faulty intelligence, orders not obeyed, and finally something about not believing that the attack against Clinton was wise.56
There was time for no more than this short exchange, as a rider appeared with the news that the British were about fifteen minutes behind. Washington then did what he always did well—restored control when chaos surrounded him. With the assistance of others, he put together a line of troops just east of West Ravine, a line which was intended to slow, not stop, the enemy. Wayne helped and Lee himself played a part. But Washington, by his coolness and his decisiveness, more than anyone else inspired the troops and their commanders. With this defense set up, he rode back to the main body which was marching along the road from Englishtown under Greene and Stirling. Those two quickly grasped the urgency and formed along a ridge behind West Ravine, Stirling on the left and Greene on the right.57
When the British arrived the Americans were ready. The battle the two sides fought took most of the afternoon. The tactical skills of Clinton and Cornwallis now deserted them, or gave way to a desire to strike a decisive blow. They faced an enemy on a strong defensive position, located on high ground, a swamp in front, woods on the American left flank and Comb’s Hill on the American right, where Knox’s field-pieces were emplaced. To assault such a position was risky and to turn it impossible. Yet Clinton tried to assault it—not with one overwhelming mass attack but with uncoordinated, sporadic assaults, now with infantry, now cavalry. He blundered into these tactics when the first British units to make contact rushed pell-mell into battle. Only gradually did the main British body come up, and never did it make its full weight felt. At one point in the afternoon Cornwallis, who was always tough and resourceful under fire, led his cavalry against Greene in a brave charge, only to see it cut down.58
By 6:00 P.M. the British had spent their energies and pulled back behind Middle Ravine. Washington then tried to mount an attack but his soldiers were as worn down as the British. Both sides then lay on their arms for the night. When morning came Washington discovered that Clinton had pulled his army from the field and was well on his way to Middletown. The Americans made no attempt to follow and the British reached Sandy Hook on July 1. Five days later the navy had transported the lot—troops, supplies, and wagons—to New York City.59
V
The conventions of war required General Clinton to praise his troops for their conduct at Monmouth, and when he wrote his memoirs a few years later he repeated his tributes and declared his satisfaction at the “happy conclusion” of his retirement from Philadelphia. Privately he admitted that what he called “gallantry in public was in fact indecent, ungovernable impetuosity,” a reference perhaps to the pell-mell chase of Lee and the piecemeal commitment of troops into the battle at West Ravine. Clinton made little explicit comment about his own conduct, though his satisfaction with himself permeates his account. He had reason to be pleased with himself since taking command in America. He had used his head in holding his army together in the face of orders to send a large part of it off to the West Indies and Florida; he had not abandoned the loyalists who wanted to escape Philadelphia with him; and he had transported most of his troops with a heavy load of supplies safely to New York.60
Good luck contributed to his success, good luck in the form of winds and ocean currents that had delayed the arrival of Estaing with sixteen men-of-war. Estaing appeared off the Virginia coast a day or two after Clinton’s transports put everyone ashore in New York. By July 11, he had made his way to Sandy Hook. Had he caught the British transports in open sea a few days earlier, Clinton would not have characterized the conclusion of the evacuation as “happy.”61
George Washington also expressed satisfaction at the outcome of the battle of Monmouth Court House. His private feelings are more difficult than Clinton’s to decipher, but he was obviously unhappy with Lee and, after that worthy wrote two insulting letters demanding a court-martial, decided to oblige him. The charges against Lee held that he had failed to attack in spite of orders to do so, that he had conducted “an unnecessary, disorderly, and shameful retreat,” and that he had shown disrespect to the commander in chief. Lee was convicted and in August suspended from any command for a year. The prosecution of Lee distressed everyone including his critics, but Washington could not avoid seeing it through.62
The arrival of the French fleet lifted American spirits. Washington had long recognized the importance of controlling the sea and of coordinated land-sea attacks. He does not seem to have believed in July that Estaing’s coming assured that American waters would be denied to the British, but he did see that he had the force to strike a heavy blow.
First off, the Americans and the French had to lay plans, a need that occupied both for several weeks. As soon as the location of the French ships became known, Washington dispatched his young aide, John Laurens, to Estaing. Laurens was rowed out to the French flagship and talks commenced. Estaing was polite and ready to cooperate, but he also had other preoccupations. The water carried from Toulon was almost exhausted, and he wished to replenish it. He also carried more than the usual number of sick on his ships.63
Though Estaing was not a sailor he did appreciate the fact that he faced a formidable man in Admiral Lord Richard Howe. The immediate problem was getting at him. Estaing’s force outnumbered Howe’s but Howe lay within New York harbor, apparently safe from attack behind the shallow bar that blocked easy entrance. French ships of the line late in the eighteenth century usually drew two or three feet more water than British, and British warships crossed the bar only in carefully chosen places under the guidance of American pilots. Estaing could have avoided the problems of forcing his way into the harbor by pulling the heaviest guns off his ships and mounting them on Sandy Hook, then an island about four miles long that commanded the harbor. With his naval guns on Sandy Hook he might have destroyed Howe’s ships which were swinging at anchor in a line awaiting their enemy. Clinton saw the danger before Estaing saw the opportunity and a week after the French appeared had placed some 1800 men on the island. Estaing prowled the waters outside the harbor until American pilots arrived and told him the dangers of trying to cross the bar.64
In late July with New York looking more impregnable every day, Washington and Estaing decided to hit the British where they were exposed—in Newport, Rhode Island. Newport had been a city of about 11,000 people in 1775, but it had shrunk to half that number a year after the war began. It offered a fine harbor, so fine in fact that the British had seized it in December 1776. Sir Robert Pigot and 3000 men now held it, while just to the north in Providence sat a small force of Continentals under General John Sullivan.
Estaing’s departure for Newport left Clinton and Lord Howe full of uncertainty. Though they attempted to follow his movements they did not learn his destination until the end of the month. While they speculated about it, they wondered about Byron, who they knew had left England with a large fleet in the spring. They also wondered how they were going to feed their soldiers and sailors; victuallers with food and other supplies were overdue and stocks of just about everything were low. And then there was the problem presented by Clinton’s orders to detach 8000 troops to the West Indies and Florida. Should he send them despite the French fleet patrolling American waters?65
On July 30, Estaing reduced British uncertainties when he began to enter Narragansett Bay. Four days later, August 3, he put a few French troops ashore on Conanicut, an island just to the west of Newport. About the time he had sailed from New York, Washington had begun strengthening Sullivan’s force, and Sullivan himself called on New England militia. By the end of the first week of August, Sullivan had an army of around 10,000 men, most of them militia but with a core provided by General James Varnum’s Rhode Islanders and John Glover’s Marbleheaders. Sullivan undoubtedly welcomed these men; he may not have felt the same pleasure at the sight of Lafayette and Greene whom Washington had sent to help him command.66
Cooperation between Sullivan and Estaing did not flow easily. Sullivan, the son of indentured servants from Ireland, brought an Irishman’s hatred of the English to the war and much more—enthusiasm and at times an indiscreet tongue. He now used his mouth incautiously, giving orders to Estaing—he of the French nobility, tender skin, and a higher military rank than Sullivan’s. It is conceivable that Estaing might have ignored Sullivan’s tactlessness had it not been coupled to what Estaing evidently took to be a lack of ability. And French unease about their American colleagues was not lessened by the discovery that their own chart of Narragansett Bay was better than Sullivan’s.67
The two sides worked out a plan for attacking Newport despite French suspicions. Sullivan was to come down from Providence, ferry to the island of Rhode Island from Tiverton, and attack Pigot on the northeast side of the island. Estaing would deliver a simultaneous attack from the west. The British saw the danger from Estaing at once and attempted to run five frigates down the middle passage, between Conanicut and Rhode Island, into Newport harbor. All five ran aground and had to be burned by their crews. In an attempt to bar the French from the harbor, Pigot ordered several transports scuttled there. These sinkings seemed to clear the way for Estaing. The attack was set for August 10. On the morning of the 9th, however, Sullivan sent his troops across to Rhode Island. He had discovered that Pigot had retired toward Newport and decided that an unopposed landing was too good to pass up. Estaing interpreted this action as further evidence of American unreliability. That afternoon Estaing received a second surprise: Howe, now reinforced by ships from Byron’s fleet, appeared with twenty vessels carrying almost 100 guns more than the French had.
Estaing could have proceeded with his part of the attack. He had some 4000 troops to put ashore, and he might have debarked them before Howe entered the bay. Indeed, in confined waters the French would have been difficult to attack. Estaing, however, kept his troops aboard and took advantage of a favorable wind to sail out for battle. For the next two days the two fleets maneuvered cautiously with Estaing holding the weather advantage—the wind at his back—and Howe striving to get it. Two days later a gale ended the maneuvers, blowing the two fleets out of their formations, dismasting several ships, and generally doing more damage than guns did in most engagements.
Undiscouraged, Sullivan attacked on the 14th but failed to break through. He then sat down in a half-siege to await Estaing’s return. The French ships straggled in over the next few days but Estaing had seen enough, and he heard that Howe would receive even more reinforcements soon. Despite Sullivan’s plea that he stay and fight for two days, Estaing set out for Boston, and repairs, on August 21. In effect, the siege of Newport was over. Sullivan’s problem was now how to escape—his militia evaporated when the French took off, and Pigot was now prepared to do some attacking on his own. What Sullivan did not know was that Clinton had loaded 4000 regulars on transports and was on the way with the intention of trapping him on Rhode Island. Unfavorable winds slowed the troopships, and on the last day of August Sullivan pulled free. Clinton arrived the next day.
Events of the rest of the year gave neither side cause to rejoice. Admiral Howe, with Byron on the scene at last, went home late in September. He was a brilliant sailor and an able commander, the last naval chief in America to whom these words apply and the last Clinton met on good terms. Early in November, Clinton finally detached 5000 troops under Major General James Grant for the attack on St. Lucia in the West Indies, an attack which would capture the island in December. The Carlisle Commission departed New York about the same time, its mission unfulfilled and its spirit in tatters. Estaing also set out in November, his spirit and his pride intact and his mission unfinished. He sailed without bothering to tell Washington his destination.
VI
The meaning of these events of 1778 seemed clear to the pessimists in the ministry and in Parliament: concentration on the colonies would no longer be possible, and consequently the war in America was lost. The fact that the government somehow had to deal with was that its forces were stretched thin over the rim of the Atlantic. The government had not distinguished itself in the brilliance of its strategic thinking when faced by a colonial rebellion. What could be expected of it when it confronted war in Europe as well as in America?
One of its early decisions—to husband carefully the home fleet in the expectation of a French invasion—paid off in a limited sense in the summer of 1778. The French under Admiral Orvilliers sailed from Brest on July 10, not with orders to invade England but simply to cruise for a month. On July 23 Orvilliers sighted the English fleet, Admiral Augustus Keppel in command, about seventy miles west of Ushant. The French maintained position with the weather gauge but did not close. The lack of firm orders to strike the enemy may have inhibited Orvilliers, and he did not fight until he was forced to by a change of the wind that enabled Keppel to drive against his rear. Orvilliers turned to face his enemy, and the two fleets sailed past one another firing as they went. Orvilliers, with twenty-seven ships against Keppel’s thirty, was outgunned and, understandably, wished to avoid a prolonged engagement which would see his ships pounded to pieces by heavier metal. Outweighed, he chose to fire langrage into the British sails and rigging—a tactic that paid off. The langrage—cast-shot loaded with iron pieces of irregular shape—shattered masts and tore rigging and sails, thus reducing English maneuverability. But the British fire, directed into hulls and decks, was effective too, and French casualties were almost twice those of the British. Orvilliers found one day of battle enough and drew away. While not exactly English, the Channel would not be used for an invasion in 1778.68
18
The War in the South
An old delusion, born of the wishful thinking that so often follows frustration, now reappeared and made itself felt in British strategy. Before the fighting at Lexington, British ministers had persuaded themselves that their troubles in America were inspired by a conspiracy of the few, that most colonists loved Parliament and the king. Not even the fighting dislodged this conviction from many heads, including the king’s own, and it no doubt was a comfort to discouraged ministers who shared the responsibility for military failure.
