Nothing without my second division, Rochambeau thought. He had urged the
government in his last letters before leaving France to send it not
later than a fortnight after he himself had sailed: "The convoy will
cross much more safely now under the guard of two warships," he had
written to Montbarey, "than it will in a month with an escort of thirty,
when the English are ready." And again, after having embarked on the
_Duc de Bourgogne_: "For Heaven's sake, sir, hasten that second
division.... We are just now weighing anchor." But weeks and months went
by, and no news came of the second division. Washington with his ardent
patriotism, Lafayette with his youthful enthusiasm, were pressing
Rochambeau to risk all, in order to capture New York, the stronghold of
the enemy and chief centre of their power. "I am confident," Rochambeau
answered, "that our general (Washington) does not want us to give here a
second edition of Savannah," and he felt the more anxious that, with the
coming of recruits and going of veterans, and the short-term
enlistments, "Washington would command now 15,000 men, now 5,000."
Rochambeau decided in October to send to France his son, then colonel of
the regiment of Bourbonnais, to remonstrate. As capture was possible and
the envoy might have to throw his despatches overboard, young
Rochambeau, being blessed with youth and a good memory, had learned
their contents by heart. One of the best sailors of the fleet had been
selected to convey him, on the frigate _Amazone_. On account of superior
forces mounting guard outside, the captain waited for the first night
storm that should arise, when the watch was sure to be less strict,
started in the midst of one, after having waited for eight days, was
recognized, but too late, was chased, had his masts broken, repaired
them, and reached Brest safely. The sailor who did so well on this
occasion, and who was to meet a tragical death at Vanikoro, bore the
name, famous since, of La Pérouse.
Time wore on, a sad time for the American cause. One day the news was
that one of the most trusted generals, famous for his services on land
and water, Benedict Arnold, had turned traitor; another day that Gates
had been routed at Camden and Kalb killed. In December Ternay died. In
January, worse than all, the soldiers of the Pennsylvania line mutinied;
unpaid, underfed, kept under the flag long after the time for which they
had enlisted, "they went," Closen writes in his journal, "to
extremities. In Europe they would not have waited so long."
There was no doubt, in fact, that the life they had to lead did not
closely resemble that which, in accordance with the uses then prevailing
in every country, the posters urging enlistment depicted to them. One
such poster, preserved in Philadelphia, announces "to all brave,
healthy, able-bodied, and well-disposed young men in this neighborhood
who have any inclination to join the troops now raising, under General
Washington, for the defense of the liberties and independence of the
United States," a "truly liberal and generous [encouragement], namely, a
bounty of twelve dollars, an annual and fully sufficient supply of good
and handsome clothing, a daily allowance of a large and ample ration of
provisions, together with sixty dollars a year in gold and silver money
on account of pay." The appeal vaunted, by way of conclusion, "the great
advantages which these brave men will have who shall embrace this
opportunity of spending a few happy years in viewing the different parts
of this beautiful continent, in the honorable and truly respectable
character of a soldier, after which he may, if he pleases, return home
to his friends with his pockets full of money and his head covered with
laurels. God save the United States!" Pretty engravings showed handsome
soldiers, elegantly dressed, practising an easy kind of military drill.
The danger was great, but brief; tempted by the enemy to change sides
and receive full pay, the Pennsylvania line refused indignantly. "We are
honest soldiers, asking justice from our compatriots," they answered,
"we are not traitors." On the margin of a French account of those
events, published in Paris in 1787, Clinton scribbled a number of
observations hitherto unprinted.[29] They are in French, or something
like it. Opposite this statement the British general wrote: "_Est bien
dit et c'est dommage qu'il n'est pas vrai._" We cannot tell, but one
thing is sure, namely, that in accordance with those words, spoken or
not, the rebellious soldiers acted. Owing to Washington's influence,
order soon reigned again, but the alarm had been very great, as shown by
the instructions which he handed to Colonel Laurens, now sent by him to
Versailles with a mission similar to that of young Rochambeau. The
emotion caused by the last events is reflected in them: "The patience of
the American army is almost exhausted.... The great majority of the
inhabitants is still firmly attached to the cause of independence," but
that cause may be wrecked if more money, more men, and more ships are
not immediately supplied by the French ally.[30]
While the presence of the American and French troops in the North kept
Clinton and his powerful New York garrison immobile where they were, the
situation in the South was becoming worse and worse, with Cornwallis at
the head of superior forces, Lord Rawdon holding Charleston, and the
hated Arnold ravaging Virginia.
Against them the American forces under Greene, Lafayette, and Morgan
(who had partly destroyed Tarleton's cavalry at Cowpens, January 17)
were doing their utmost, facing fearful odds. With a handful of men,
knowing that the slightest error might be his destruction, young
Lafayette, aged twenty-four, far from help and advice, was conducting a
campaign in which his pluck, wisdom, and tenacity won him the admiration
of veterans. Irritated ever to find him on his path, Cornwallis was
writing a little later to Clinton: "If I can get an opportunity to
strike a blow at him without loss of time, I will certainly try it." But
Lafayette would not let his adversary thus employ his leisure.
To arrest the progress of Arnold two French expeditions were sent,
taking advantage of moments when access to the sea was not blocked by
the English fleet before Newport, one in February, under Tilly, who
pursued Arnold's convoy up the Elizabeth River as high as the draft of
his ships permitted, but had to stop and come home, having only captured
the _Romulus_, of 44 guns, some smaller ships, a quantity of supplies
destined for Arnold, and made 550 prisoners; another of more importance
under the Chevalier Destouches, in March, with part of Rochambeau's army
on board, in case a landing were possible. In spite of all precautions,
Destouches's intentions were discovered; the English fleet engaged ours;
the fight, in which 72 French lost their lives and 112 were wounded, was
a creditable one and might easily have ended in disaster, for the enemy
had more guns, and several of our ships, on account of their not being
copper-lined, were slow; but clever manoeuvring, however, compensated
those defects. Congress voted thanks, but the situation remained the
same. "And now," Closen noted down in his journal, "we have Arnold free
to act as he pleases, Virginia desolated by his incursions, and M. de
Lafayette too weak to do anything but keep on the defensive."
V
One day, however, something would have to be done, and, in order to be
ready, Rochambeau kept his army busy with manoeuvres, military exercises,
sham warfare ("le simulacre de la petite guerre"), and the building of
fortifications. As for his officers, he encouraged them to travel, for a
large part of the land was free of enemies, and to become better
acquainted with these "American brothers," whom they had come to fight
for. French officers were thus seen at Boston, Albany, West Point,
Philadelphia. It was at this period that Chastellux went about the
country with some of his companions, and gathered the material for his
well-known _Voyages dans l'Amérique du Nord_, the first edition of
which, in a much abbreviated form, was issued by that printing-press of
the fleet which Rochambeau had recommended to himself not to forget: "De
l'Imprimerie Royale de l'Escadre," one reads on the title-page. Only
twenty-three copies were struck off; the "Imprimerie Royale" of the
fleet had obviously no superabundance of type nor of paper.
Closen, who, to his joy and surprise, had been made a member of
Rochambeau's "family," that is, had been appointed one of his aides, as
soon as his new duties left him some leisure, began, with his
methodical mind, to study, he tells us, "the Constitution of the
thirteen States and of the Congress of America," meaning, of course, at
that date, their several constitutions, which organization, "as time has
shown, is well adapted to the national character and has made the
happiness of that people so respectable from every point of view." He
began after this to examine the products of the soil of Rhode Island,
"perhaps one of the prettiest islands on the globe."
The stay being prolonged, the officers began to make acquaintances, to
learn English, to gain access to American society. It was at first very
difficult; neither French nor American understood each other's language;
so recourse was bravely had to Latin, better known then than to-day.
"_Quid de meo, mi carissime Drowne, cogitas silentio?_" A long letter
follows, in affectionate terms addressed to Doctor Drowne, a Newport
physician, and signed: "Silly, officier au régiment de Bourbonnois,"
September 9, 1780. Sublieutenant de Silly announced, however, his
intention to learn English during the winter season: "_Inglicam linguam
noscere conabor._" His letters of an afterdate are, in fact, written in
English, but a beginner's English.[31]
For the use of Latin the commander-in-chief of the French army was able
to set the example, and Ezra Stiles could talk at a dinner in that
language with Rochambeau, still reminiscent of what he had learned when
studying for priesthood. The president of Yale notes in his journal:
"5 [October, 1780]. Introduced to the commander-in-chief of the French
allied army, the Count de Rochambeau....
"7. Dined at the General de Rochambeau's, in a splendid manner. There
were, perhaps, thirty at table. I conversed with the general in Latin.
He speaks it tolerably."
Beginning to know something of the language, our officers risk paying
visits and go to teas and dinners. Closen notes with curiosity all he
sees: "It is good behavior each time people meet to accost each other,
mutually offering the hand and shaking it, English fashion. Arriving in
a company of men, one thus goes around, but must remember that it
belongs to the one of higher rank to extend his hand first."
Unspeakable quantities of tea are drunk. "To crave mercy, when one has
taken half a dozen cups, one must put the spoon across the cup; for so
long as you do not place it so, your cup is always taken, rinsed, filled
again, and placed before you. After the first, the custom is for the
pretty pourer (_verseuse_)--most of them are so--to ask you: _Is the
tea suitable?_"[32]--"An insipid drink," grumbles Chaplain Robin, over
whom the prettiness of the pourers was powerless.
The toasts are also a very surprising custom, sometimes an uncomfortable
one. "One is terribly fatigued by the quantity of healths which are
being drunk (_toasts_). From one end of the table to the other a
gentleman pledges you, sometimes with only a glance, which means that
you should drink a glass of wine with him, a compliment which cannot be
politely ignored."
In the course of an excursion to Boston the young captain visits an
assembly of Quakers, "where, unluckily, no one was inspired, and ennui
seemed consequently to reign."
But what strikes him more than anything else is the beauty of those
young ladies who made him drink so much tea: "Nature has endowed the
ladies of Rhode Island with the handsomest, finest features one can
imagine; their complexion is clear and white; their hands and feet
usually small." But let not the ladies of other States be tempted to
resent this preference. One sees later that in each city he visits young
Closen is similarly struck, and that, more considerate than the shepherd
Paris, he somehow manages to refuse the apple to none. On the Boston
ladies he is quite enthusiastic, on the Philadelphia ones not less; he
finds, however, the latter a little too serious, which he attributes to
the presence of Congress in that city.
But, above all, the object of my compatriots' curiosity was the great
man, the one of whom they had heard so much on the other side, the
personification of the new-born ideas of liberty and popular government,
George Washington. All wanted to see him, and as soon as permission to
travel was granted several managed to reach his camp. For all of them,
different as they might be in rank and character, the impression was the
same and fulfilled expectation, beginning with Rochambeau, who saw him
for the first time at the Hartford conferences, in September, 1780, when
they tried to draw a first plan for a combined action. A friendship then
commenced between the two that was long to survive those eventful years.
"From the moment we began to correspond with one another," Rochambeau
wrote in his memoirs, "I never ceased to enjoy the soundness of his
judgment and the amenity of his style in a very long correspondence,
which is likely not to end before the death of one of us."
Chastellux, who saw him at his camp, where the band of the American army
played for him the "March of the Huron," could draw from life his
well-known description of him, ending: "Northern America, from Boston to
Charleston, is a great book every page of which tells his praise."[33]
Count de Ségur says that he apprehended his expectations could not be
equalled by reality, but they were. "His exterior almost told his story.
Simplicity, grandeur, dignity, calm, kindness, firmness shone in his
physiognomy as well as in his character. He was of a noble and high
stature, his expression was gentle and kindly, his smile pleasing, his
manners simple without familiarity.... All in him announced the hero of
a republic." "I have seen Washington," says Abbé Robin, "the soul and
support of one of the greatest revolutions that ever happened.... In a
country where every individual has a part in supreme authority ... he
has been able to maintain his troops in absolute subordination, render
them jealous of his praise, make them fear his very silence." Closen was
one day sent with despatches to the great man and, like all the others,
began to worship him.
As a consequence of this mission Washington came, on the 6th of March,
1781, to visit the French camp and fleet. He was received with the
honors due to a marshal of France, the ships were dressed, the troops,
in their best uniforms, "dans la plus grande tenue," lined the streets
from Rochambeau's house (the fine Vernon house, still in existence[34])
to the harbor; the roar and smoke of the guns rose in honor of the "hero
of liberty." Washington saw Destouches's fleet sail for its Southern
expedition and wished it Godspeed; and after a six days' stay, enlivened
by "illuminations, dinners, and balls," he left on the 13th. "I can
say," we read in Closen's journal, "that he carried away with him the
regrets, the attachment, the respect, and the veneration of all our
army." Summing up his impression, he adds: "All in him betokens a great
man with an excellent heart. Enough good will never be said of him."