“For a time both parties fought with unparalleled bravery, and the carnage was terrible. For some time it was a doubtful struggle, but the fiery emulation which stimulated the English and the Hessians at last compelled the Americans to give way before them.
“The right wing first yielded, then the left, while the central division, where La Fayette was bravely fighting, was the last to breast the storm, which now, concentrating its strength, spent its fury upon those devoted ranks. Firm as a rock, they bore themselves proudly against the tide of victory, which rolled in fearfully upon them. By a skilful manœuvre, Cornwallis had managed to separate them from the two wings, when defeat became inevitable. The whole fire of the enemy was united against them, and the confusion became extreme. The troops at first wavered, then rallied, then wavered again, and at last fell into a disorderly retreat. It was in vain that La Fayette endeavored to check them; defying danger, he stood almost single-handed against the on-coming host, and endeavored to reanimate his flying comrades by his own example. It was all fruitless. A ball struck him, and as he fell, those remaining on the field gave way.
“Gimat, aide-de-camp to the Marquis, assisted his master in getting upon a horse, and, though the blood was flowing profusely from his wound, La Fayette reluctantly turned and joined the fugitives. General Washington at this moment arrived with fresh troops upon the field. Greene’s divisions had marched four miles in forty-two minutes, but were too late to avert the disasters of the day. La Fayette, as soon as he saw Washington, started to join him, but loss of blood obliged him to stop and have his wound bandaged. While submitting to this a band of soldiers came upon him so suddenly that he had barely time to remount for flight, escaping, as by a miracle, the shower of bullets which whistled around his form.
“A general rout was the order of the day. The road to Chester was crowded with the retreating. Knyphausen had forced the passage of Chadd’s Ford, notwithstanding the obstinate resistance of Generals Wayne and Maxwell, who had been left to defend it. Washington found that all that could be done was to stay the pursuit. So successful were his efforts, and those of General Greene, that, as night approached, Sir William Howe called in his troops and gave over the chase. La Fayette was unwearied in his endeavors to save the army. Forgetting himself, his wound, and everything but this one object, he exerted himself to the utmost amid the darkness and dreadful confusion of that night, to restore order among the fleeing and despairing soldiery. At Chester Bridge, twelve miles from the scene of battle, he was in part successful.”
The generals and the commander-in-chief arrived, and La Fayette, at last fainting from loss of blood and fatigue, was borne away to receive the attention which his situation demanded. The next day he wrote to his wife as follows:—
“Philadelphia, Sept. 12th.
“I must begin by telling you that I am perfectly well, because I must end by telling you that we fought seriously last night, and that we were not the stronger party on the field of battle. Our Americans, after having stood their ground for some time, ended at length by being routed. While endeavoring to rally them, the English honored me with a musket ball, which slightly wounded me in the leg; but it is a trifle, my dearest love: the ball touched neither bone nor nerve, and I have escaped with the obligation of lying upon my back for some time, which puts me much out of humor. I hope you will feel no anxiety. This event ought, on the contrary, rather to reassure you, since I am incapacitated from appearing on the field for some time. I have resolved to take great care of myself; be convinced of this, my love. This affair will, I fear, be attended with bad consequences for America, but we will endeavor, if possible, to repair the evil. You must have received many letters from me, unless the English be as ill-disposed towards my epistles as towards my legs. I have not yet received one letter, and I am most impatient to hear from you. It is dreadful to be reduced to hold no communication except by letter with a person whom one loves as I love you, and as I shall ever love you, until I draw my latest breath. I have not missed a single opportunity, not even the most indirect one, of writing to you. Do the same on your part, my dearest life, if you love me. Adieu; I am forbidden to write longer.”
After the battle of Brandywine Congress adjourned to Bristol, as Philadelphia was thought to be in danger; and La Fayette was carried to Bethlehem and placed in the care of the Moravian Society until his wound should be healed. In October he thus wrote to his wife:—
“I wrote to you, my dearest love, the 12th of September; the twelfth was the day after the eleventh, and I have a little tale to relate to you concerning that eleventh day. To render my action more meritorious, I might tell you that prudent reflections induced me to remain for some weeks in bed, safe sheltered from all danger; but I must acknowledge that I was encouraged to take this measure by a slight wound which I met with, I know not how, for I did not, in truth, expose myself to peril. It was the first conflict at which I had been present; so you see how very rare engagements are. It will be the last of this campaign, or, in all probability, at least, the last great battle; and if anything should occur, you see that I could not myself be present.
“My first occupation was to write you the day after that affair; I told you that it was a mere trifle, and I was right; all I fear is, that you may not have received my letter.