In 1775 in the new western hemisphere democracy was born to the modern
world.
"By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard 'round the world."
Across the vast Atlantic rolled its echoes. Across a trackless sea,
across the lands of France, up through the great White Ways of Paris it
resounded. It knocked against the palace doors of the King of France. On
through the flippant gibe, the careless laugh, the carousing and the din
of the royal court, it reached and touched the spirit of Lafayette.
What was the strange tale that came to him from the New World? Was it a
tale of liberty triumphant and conquering, a tale of success, a tale to
touch the imagination of a soldier through the glory of a winning cause?
Far from it. After a brief temporary success in Massachusetts the cause
of the newly-born confederated American republics seemed to be tottering
upon the brink of total destruction. The rout of the Americans at
Brooklyn and the consequent abandonment of Long Island was followed by
their evacuation of New York City. The American army was becoming
demoralized. The militia were impatient to return home, were disobedient
to orders, and were deserting in large numbers--it is said "by half and
even by whole regiments." Then followed the Americans' defeat at White
Plains, the surrender of Fort Washington, the evacuation of Fort Lee,
and the steady disheartening of the American forces. The ineffectual
attempts to increase the militia, the indisposition of the inhabitants
to farther resistance, the retreat of General Washington through New
Jersey at the head of less than three thousand men, poorly armed, almost
without tents, blankets, or provisions, discouraged by constant
reverses, many of them half-clad and barefooted in the cold of November
and December, passing through a desponding country and pursued by a
numerous, well-appointed, and victorious army--all these events made
liberty at this time indeed
"A wretched soul bruised with adversity."
It was at this stage of the conflict that Lafayette determined to cross
the Atlantic and take up the cause of the thirteen little republics.
Benjamin Franklin, one of America's two representatives in France, who
at first had welcomed this offer of assistance, upon learning of the
continued American reverses, and almost despairing of the success of the
cause, is reported honourably to have endeavoured to dissuade the
Marquis from carrying his design into execution. Franklin and Silas
Deane, the other American representative in France, told him they were
unable to obtain a vessel for his passage. France was then at peace, and
the King of France forbade his departure. Under the laws of France he
risked the confiscation of all his property, as well as capture on the
high seas. There was no winning cause to lure him, merely thirteen
little newly-born republics struggling for a principle, fighting for
democracy--a weak, bedraggled, and dispirited democracy, a democracy
half-clad and poverty stricken, a barefooted, half-naked democracy that
was very nearly down and out.
"Now," he replied to Franklin and Deane, "is precisely the moment to
serve your cause; the more people are discouraged, the greater utility
will result from my departure; and if you cannot furnish me with a
vessel, I shall charter one at my own expense to convey your despatches
and my person to the shores of America."
In a Paris paper of that year, there appears the following item:
Paris, April 4, 1777.
One of the richest of our young nobility, the Marquis de Lafayette,
a relation of the Duke de Noailles, between nineteen and twenty
years of age, has at his own expense hired a vessel and provided
everything necessary for a voyage to America, with two officers of
his acquaintance. He set out last week, having told his lady and
family that he was going to Italy. He is to serve as Major-General
in the American army.