1 The Council Oak of Brandywine Springs Part 1 – Its Origins In July 2002, safety concerns prompted the New Castle County Park Service to remove the last remains of what had been one of Delaware’s most famous trees. This beautiful landmark had towered above Brandywine Springs for at least 250 years and held a silent vigil through the parks ever-changing faces. It stood graceful and majestic as the neighboring acres progressed from farmland to mineral springs resort, picnic grove to amusement park and, finally, woodland to County Park. Although the last of the decayed trunk was removed this past summer to prevent its toppling onto an unwary visitor, the beginning of the end really started decades before. As the use of Brandywine Springs Park evolved to playgrounds and ball fields in the 1970’s, the stories and memories of this grand oak were lost on a new generation of park visitors. Poison ivy and briars slowly choked off the paths that once led from its base down to what was once Washington Lake. Other trees encroached around it to further mask the view of the valley below. The lake itself eventually gave way to a marsh and the old Chalybeate Spring bed filled over with leaves and silt. Delaware’s grand oak went from being a point of reference in the park to just another tree in the backdrop. Little was done to preserve its former majesty. Then unexpectedly on May 4, 1993, the grim reaper took his invisible blade to its boughs and over half of the limbs came crashing down. No one knows for sure just what caused them to fall. Weather wasn’t deemed to be a factor. Perhaps it was insect damage
2 or just the weight of its massive, unpruned limbs after too many years. The County cleaned up what it could and members of the fledgling FOBS organization (Friends of Brandywine Springs) saved some of the wood. They also erected one their first markers by the towering trunk to identify its remains. Sadly, the tree had to die to re-establish its place in history. Appropriately, a small piece of the oak still lives on in the gavel that now calls FOBS meetings to order. In looking back on its long history, the first question that everyone asks is who planted it and when? One theory is that it was put there by order of William Penn. Another possibility is that a fellow Englishman who received one of Penn’s land grants may have planted it in his honor. Or perhaps it was just an acorn planted by one of the Lenni-Lenape Indians as they camped by the cool banks of Hyde Run and drew water from the Chalybeate Spring. It’s a question for the ages but there are a few ways to narrow down the possibilities. In 1933 a little known book written by Edward Wildman entitled Penn’s Woods gave historians the first comprehensive catalogue of the oldest trees in Pennsylvania, Delaware and northern Maryland. The Brandywine Springs oak was one of many listed that were believed to date back to the late 17th century, when William Penn was granted his huge tract of land by the King of England. A later edition of “Penn’s Woods” (1981) explains that the name Pennsylvania itself was decreed by King Charles II in honor of William Penn’s father, not his son as commonly thought, and derives from a Latin expression meaning Penn’s woods or forests. The English held no favor for the white
3 pines and hemlocks that dominated the forests of the middle Atlantic colonies. It was their superstition that hemlocks were the “shades of death” while oak trees were considered the sacred trees of the Bible. Penn himself had learned as a boy that oaks symbolized might, grandeur and long life. In the Scriptures, oaks were often connected to sacrificial offerings and it was desirable to bury the dearly departed under their canopy. Penn’s reverence for the oak became well known in the colonies and many were planted here in his honor. In 1932, the Council Oak’s circumference was measured at 15’ 2” and its age was estimated to be 300 years. In 1981, a later group of editors to Penn’s Woods re-measured the circumference at 17’ 7” and reaffirmed its age at 300 years or more. This would have dated the tree to anywhere from the time that the Swedes built Fort Christina around 1640 to the time of Penn’s arrival in 1682 at Old New Castle1 . The 1981 edition gave the following account of the Council Oak: “This noble oak was probably over 100 years old when, according to tradition, General Washington and Lafayette held a war council beneath its boughs in 1777, prior to the Battle of the Brandywine. The historic Newport-Gap Pike a few hundred yards away began winding its way into Pennsylvania as a wagon road established in 1808. 1 The age of an oak tree can be estimated by a simple formula where the tree circumference in inches multiplied by 1.59 equals its age in years. This formula would have put the Council Oak at 335 years old in 1981 and planted in 1646.
4 Today, the tree stands like a silent sentinel keeping watch over the peaceful, quiet valley below. Still in good condition, the tree is sought out by many people annually.2 ” A photo taken by me in 1985 supports the observation that the tree did appear to be in good condition at the time so its decay, whatever the reason, came quickly thereafter. But now that the tree has finally been finally laid to rest, more evidence about the tree’s age has come to light. A count of the ring density after the trunk was cut down suggests that the tree could very well have been planted about 1685, around the time Penn’s first visit. However, given the range of uncertainty from such a simple formula that relates age only to circumference, it’s also conceivable that the oak was planted by one Bryan MacDonnell. He acquired the tract from William Penn’s daughter in 1701, built a home there and was the first landowner to develop it for farming. Further confusing the question of its age is an entirely different perspective based on an old map of the mineral springs resort made in 1826. The oak is clearly sketched among a small grove of trees but two neighboring trees, a pear and a buttonwood, are drawn much larger. Its hardly what one would expect of an oak tree that could have been over 100 years old at the time, especially given that the map was drawn to scale by a well known surveyor, Benjamin Ferris. Imagine a pear tree larger than a mature oak! And then there is the question raised by another old print of Brandywine Springs made in 1835 by the famous architect, Thomas Walter. Walter was a perfectionist and 2 Penn’s Woods 1682-1982, Halfred Wertz and M. Joy Callendar, Haverford House, c1981.
5 later photos of the property bear out his attention to detail. The oak is clearly visible, as is the platform around its base, but its width is relatively narrow in relation to the people milling about it. This perspective suggests that the tree could be even younger than the other theories suggest, and may have been planted as late as 1750! If that were the case, then it could have been planted by Holton Yarnall, who operated the Conestoga Wagon Tavern nearby on Newport-Gap Pike. Using this assumption, the Council Oak would have been “only” 243 years old when it fell apart in 1993. So when was it planted? Was it in 1682 to commemorate Penn’s visit, or in 1701 by Bryan MacDonnell to mark the brow of the hill on his new farm, or in 1750 by Holton Yarnall because oak trees were an old English custom? There are good reasons to support each theory and more work remains before the question can be resolved. Part 2 – The Legend of the Council While the question of age for the Council Oak still requires more research, the question as to whether a war council took place beneath it is a little more straightforward to resolve. As it turns out, most of the evidence suggests that the Council Oak legend is part myth and part fact. Said differently, most legends usually have some basis in fact. We are fortunate that George Washington maintained good diaries during the Revolutionary War and the Library of Congress has preserved most of his letters with the Continental Congress. In fact, you can look at scanned originals of them on the Internet at the American Memory web site. In addition, Lafayette also kept detailed memoirs of the war that have since been published in many forms.
6 Lafayette wrote that Washington convened a “nocturnal council of war” in Newport on September 8, 1777, three days before the Battle of the Brandywine. Newport was, in fact, the location of Washington’s headquarters and it’s well documented that he used the Hale-Byrnes House in Mill Creek for at least one of his councils during this time. Washington’s own letter of September 9 tells us that he was forced to move his troops suddenly at two in the morning to avoid being flanked by the British as they drove towards Philadelphia. Indeed he must have had a last minute council late at night to decide such a move. But was it on a ridge in the middle of a farm field overlooking tiny Hyde Run or at a more useful location, such as a tavern on a main transportation route where the latest troop movements might be learned? Bonnie Ardis, a FOBS member and a descendant of the Foulk family (or Faulk as they are sometimes referred to, as in Faulkland Road) has reason to believe it was held in or near a tavern. She uncovered a family letter that recalls the legend of the council from a different point of view. Many years ago, a distant relative from the mid-west wrote to the Old Swedes Church to request information about their family history. The relative claimed that her grandfather told a story of how George Washington gathered with his troops under a tree in front of his grandfather’s house during the battle. After much research, Bonnie conjectured that the grandfather’s house might have been the tavern owned by Holton Yarnall, who is also her ancestor. The theory is also plausible since other research by her also determined that Washington knew the Yarnall family, and that he would occasionally visit them when traveling from Virginia to Philadelphia.
7 So history tells us that a nocturnal council of war did take place near the Brandywine Springs, not far from Newport, just before the Battle of the Brandywine. It is also logical that a tavern on Newport Gap Pike would have been a good place to inquire on the locations of British forces. Independent of Bonnie’s work, my own theory was that Richard Crook, the new manager of the Brandywine Springs Hotel in 1886, might have first publicized the legend. Crook may have thought it would be great advertising to take the hearsay of local elders and spin it so that the council did indeed take place on the hotel’s property! One of the first public references of the Council Oak legend first appeared in a Wilmington newspaper in 1889, just as he was expanding the hotel property into a picnic grove with a number of small amusements.3 It’s a wellknown fact that Crook was a talented marketeer who quickly evolved the sleepy property into a popular amusement park. Another fact in support of this idea is that none of the advertisements and newspaper articles about the original Brandywine Springs Resort in 1827, nor its expansion in 1834, ever mentioned the oak. It was certainly there and had the “lookout platform” around its trunk, as the Thomas Walter print showed in 1835. One would have expected the resort owners to capitalize on the tree’s fame, especially since this was a time when actual veterans of the Revolution and the Battle of the Brandywine were still alive, and would have recalled first hand the council if it had occurred beneath it. 3 Brandywine Springs Amusement Park, Mark Lawlor, 1996, p.2.
8 Does the dismissal of the legend change the way we remember this great tree? Hardly, for whatever name one uses for it; Penn Oak, Washington Oak or Council Oak, it brought distinction, natural beauty and purpose to Brandywine Springs for over two centuries. Generations of visitors to the park, whether there to drink the Chalybeate waters or to play softball, stood in its shade on a hot summer day and admired its grandeur. It also outlasted any man made structure ever built on the property. We will remember it in the future not for the legends but for the pictures of park goers who spent a leisurely Sunday afternoon relaxing beneath it and admiring the view of the valley below. Whoever planted that acorn had a wonderful gift of foresight for the location that was selected. Perhaps they even intended it to be their final resting-place. But could they ever imagine how many other generations would also be touched by the dignity of its broad, sweeping limbs? Gene Castellano, Wilmington, Delaware. September 8, 2002