Philadelphia, where the Congress of the United States was sitting.
“I have every reason to feel highly gratified at my reception in
Charlestown,” he wrote, “but I have not yet explained my plans to any
one. I judge it best to wait until I have presented myself to the
Congress before making a statement as to the projects I have in view.”
He had only one difficulty in the seaport town. When he started to sell
the _Victory_ and her cargo he found that the men who had sold him the
ship and Captain Leboucier had so entangled him with agreements and
commissions, all of which he had signed without properly reading in his
haste to sail from Bordeaux, that, instead of receiving any money, he
was actually in debt. To pay this off and get the needed funds to take
his companions and himself to Philadelphia he had to borrow money, but
fortunately there were plenty of people in Charlestown who were ready to
help him out of that difficulty.
With the money borrowed from these well-disposed people Lafayette bought
horses and carriages to take his party over the nine hundred miles
that lay between Charlestown and Philadelphia. On June twenty-fifth
the expedition started. In front rode a French officer dressed in
the uniform of a hussar. Next came a heavy open carriage, in which
sat Lafayette and De Kalb, and close behind it rode Lafayette’s
body-servant. Then there followed a chaise with two colonels, the
counselors of the Marquis, another chaise with more French officers,
still another with the baggage, and finally, as rear-guard, a negro on
horseback.
The country roads were frightful for travel; indeed for much of the
way they could scarcely be called roads at all, being simply primitive
clearings through the woods. The guide kept losing his way, and the
carriages bumped along over roots and logs in a hot, blistering sun. As
far as this particular journey went, the Frenchmen must have thought
that travel was very much easier in their own country. One accident
followed another; within four days the chaises had been jolted into
splinters and the horses had gone lame. The travelers had to buy other
wagons and horses, and to lighten their outfit kept leaving part of
their baggage on the way. Sometimes they had to walk, often they
went hungry, and many a night they slept in the woods. They began to
appreciate that this new country, land of liberty though it was, had
many disadvantages when it came to the matter of travel.
From Petersburg in Virginia Lafayette wrote to Adrienne. “You have
heard,” said he, “how brilliantly I started out in a carriage. I have to
inform you that we are now on horseback after having broken the wagons
in my usual praiseworthy fashion, and I expect to write you before long
that we have reached our destination on foot.”
Yet, in spite of all these discomforts, the Marquis was able to enjoy
much of the journey. He studied the language of the people he met, he
admired the beautiful rivers and the great forests, and he kept pointing
out to his companions how much better the farmers here lived than the
peasants of his own country. At least there was plenty of land for every
one and no grasping overlords to take all the profits.
The journey lasted a month. The party paid a visit to Governor Caswell
in North Carolina and stopped at Petersburg and Annapolis, where
Lafayette met Major Brice, who later became his aide-de-camp. On July
twenty-seventh the travel-worn party reached Philadelphia, which was
then the capital of the United States.
The outlook for the Americans was gloomy enough then. New York was in
the hands of the enemy, Burgoyne’s army had captured Ticonderoga and was
threatening to separate New England from the rest of the country, and
Howe was preparing to attack Philadelphia with a much larger army than
Washington could bring against him. It would have seemed just the time
when any help from abroad should have been doubly welcome, and yet as a
matter of fact the Congress was not so very enthusiastic about it.
The reason for this was that already a great number of adventurers
had come to America from the different countries of Europe and asked
for high commands in the American army. Many of them were soldiers of
considerable experience, and they all thought that they would make much
better officers than the ill-trained men of the new republic. Some of
them also quickly showed that they were eager for money, and one and all
insisted on trying to tell Congress exactly what it ought to do. Quite
naturally the Americans preferred to manage affairs in their own way.
George Washington had already sent a protest to Congress. “Their
ignorance of our language and their inability to recruit men,” he
said, “are insurmountable obstacles to their being ingrafted into our
continental battalions; for our officers, who have raised their men,
and have served through the war upon pay that has hitherto not borne
their expenses, would be disgusted if foreigners were put over their
heads; and I assure you, few or none of these gentlemen look lower than
field-officers’ commissions. To give them all brevets, by which they
have rank, and draw pay without doing any service, is saddling the
continent with vast expense; and to form them into corps would be only
establishing corps of officers; for, as I have said before, they cannot
possibly raise any men.”
It was true that Silas Deane had been instructed to offer commissions
to a few French officers, whose experience might help the Americans,
but he had scattered commissions broadcast, and some of these men had
proved of little use. One of them, Du Coudray, had arrived and insisted
on commanding the artillery with the rank of major-general, and had
aroused so much opposition that Generals Greene, Sullivan, and Knox had
threatened to resign if his demands were granted. Congress was therefore
beginning to look askance at many of the men who bore Silas Deane’s
commissions.
That was the state of affairs when Lafayette, confident of a warm
welcome, reached Philadelphia and presented himself and his friends
to John Hancock, the president of Congress. Hancock may have received
letters concerning the young Frenchman from Deane and Benjamin Franklin
in Paris, but, if he had, he had paid little attention to them, and
was inclined to regard this young man of nineteen as simply another
adventurer from Europe. With a scant word of welcome Hancock referred
Lafayette to Gouverneur Morris, who, he said, “had such matters in
charge.”
The Frenchmen went to see Morris, but to him also they appeared only a
new addition to the many adventurers already hanging about, looking for
high commands. He put off dealing with Lafayette and De Kalb. “Meet me
to-morrow at the door of Congress, gentlemen,” said he. “I will look
over your papers in the meantime and will see what I can do for you.”
The two new arrivals kept the appointment promptly, but Morris was not
on hand. After they had cooled their heels for some time he appeared,
bringing with him Mr. Lovell, the chairman of the Committee on Foreign
Affairs. “Matters that concern France are in Mr. Lovell’s charge,” said
Morris. “Please deal with him after this.”
Lovell bowed to the strangers. “I understand, gentlemen,” said he, “that
you have authority from Mr. Deane?”
“Certainly, sir,” De Kalb answered. “Our papers and agreements show
that.”
Lovell frowned. “This is very annoying,” said he. “We authorized Mr.
Deane to send us four French engineers, but instead he has sent us a
number of engineers who are no engineers and some artillerists who
have never seen service. Mr. Franklin, however, has sent us the four
engineers we wanted. There is nothing for you to do here, gentlemen. We
needed a few experienced officers last year, but now we have plenty, and
can promise no more positions. I must bid you good-morning.”
Here was a dashing blow to all their eager wishes. Surprise and
disappointment showed in their faces.
“But, sir,” began De Kalb, “Mr. Deane promised----”
“Well, Mr. Deane has exceeded his authority,” declared Lovell. “He has
promised too much and we cannot recognize his authority. We haven’t
even a colonel’s commission to give to any foreign officers, to say
nothing of a major-general’s. The Congress is very much annoyed by
these constant demands, and General Washington says he won’t be
disturbed by any more requests. I am sorry to disappoint you, but under
the circumstances I can promise you nothing. Again I must bid you
good-morning.”
Lovell returned to Congress, leaving the Frenchmen much discomfited.
De Kalb began to storm, and finally spoke angrily of the way they had
been treated by Deane. “It is not to be borne!” he cried. “I will take
action against Deane! I will have damages for this indignity he has put
upon us!”
Fortunately Lafayette was more even-tempered. In spite of this rebuff
at the outset he meant to achieve his goal. He turned to the angry De
Kalb and laid his hand restrainingly on the latter’s arm. “Let us not
talk of damages, my friend,” he said. “It is more important for us to
talk of doing. It is true that Congress didn’t ask us to leave our
homes and cross the sea to lead its army. But I will not go back now.
If the Congress will not accept me as a major-general, I will fight for
American liberty as a volunteer!”
V
“I WILL FIGHT FOR AMERICAN LIBERTY AS A VOLUNTEER!”
Lafayette, standing outside the door of the American Congress in
Philadelphia, refused the commission in the American army that had been
promised him by Silas Deane, spoke these words of encouragement to his
disappointed and indignant friends who had crossed with him from France.
“If the Congress will not accept me as a major-general, I will fight
for American liberty as a volunteer!” he said; and, having come to this
decision, he immediately proceeded to put it into effect. He went to his
lodgings and wrote a letter to John Hancock, president of Congress.
Lafayette’s letter explained the reasons why he had come to the United
States and recounted the many difficulties he had had to overcome. He
stated that he thought that the promise he had received from Silas
Deane, the approval of Benjamin Franklin, and the sacrifices he had
himself made ought to lead Congress to give a friendly hearing to his
request. He said that he understood how Congress had been besieged by
foreign officers seeking high rank in the army, but added that he only
asked two favors. These were, in his own words, “First, that I serve
without pay and at my own expense; and, the other, that I be allowed to
serve at first as a volunteer.”
This letter was a great surprise to John Hancock and the other leaders
of Congress. Here was a young French officer of family and wealth who
was so deeply interested in their cause that he was eager to serve as
an unpaid volunteer! He was a different type from the others who had
come begging for favors. Hancock looked up the letter that Franklin
had written about the Marquis, and read, “Those who censure him as
imprudent do nevertheless applaud his spirit, and we are satisfied that
the civilities and respect that may be shown him will be serviceable to
our affairs here, as pleasing not only to his powerful relations and to
the court, but to the whole French nation.”
Hancock was impressed; perhaps they had made a mistake in treating
this Marquis de Lafayette in such cavalier fashion. So he sent another
member of Congress to see the young Frenchman and instructed him
to treat Lafayette with the greatest courtesy. And the result of
this interview was that Hancock’s emissary was quickly convinced of
Lafayette’s absolute honesty of purpose and intense desire to help the
United States.
Having reached this conclusion Hancock decided to make amends and do the
honorable thing, and so, on July 31, 1777, Congress passed the following
resolution: “Whereas, the Marquis de Lafayette, out of his great zeal
to the cause of liberty, in which the United States are engaged, has
left his family and connections, and, at his own expense, come over to
offer his services to the United States, without pension or particular
allowance, and is anxious to risk his life in our cause, therefore,
Resolved, that his services be accepted, and that, in consideration of
his zeal, illustrious family, and connections, he have the rank and
commission of major-general in the army of the United States.”
How fortunate it was that Lafayette had not been daunted at the outset,
or discouraged as De Kalb and his companions had been! His great dream
had come true as a result of perseverance; he had been welcomed by
Congress, and was, at nineteen, a major-general in the army of liberty!
But he did not forget those companions who had crossed the sea with the
same desires as his own. In the letter he wrote to Congress, penned
in his own quaint English,--a letter now in the State Department at
Washington,--after thanking “the Honorable mr. Hancok,” as he spelled
it, and expressing his gratitude to Congress, he said, “it is now
as an american that I’l mention every day to congress the officers
who came over with me, whose interests are for me as my own, and the
consideration which they deserve by their merit, their ranks, their
state and reputation in france.”
He was unable, however, to do much for these friends, though one of them
said, “He did everything that was possible for our appointment, but in
vain, for he had no influence. But if he had his way, De Kalb would have
been major-general and we should all have had places.”
Congress felt that it could not give them all commissions. Captain de
Bedaulx, who was a veteran officer, was made a captain in the American
army, one other was engaged as a draughtsman and engineer, and Lafayette
kept two as his own aides-de-camp. Most of the others were sent back
to France, their expenses being paid by Congress. As for De Kalb, he
had given up his plans for high rank and preferment and was on his way
to take passage on a ship for Europe when a messenger reached him with
word that Congress, voting for one more major-general in the army, had
elected him.
Lafayette, in his letter to Hancock, had said that he wished to serve
“near the person of General Washington till such time as he may think
proper to entrust me with a division of the army.” Events soon gave him
the chance to meet the commander-in-chief. The arrival of Howe’s fleet
at the mouth of the Delaware River seemed to threaten Philadelphia,
and Washington left his camp in New Jersey to consult with Congress.
Lafayette was invited to a dinner in Philadelphia to meet the
commander-in-chief, and accepted eagerly. The Frenchman was greatly
impressed. “Although General Washington was surrounded by officers and
private citizens,” he wrote, “the majesty of his countenance and of
his figure made it impossible not to recognize him; he was especially
distinguished also by the affability of his manners and the dignity with
which he addressed those about him.”
Washington had already heard of Lafayette and found a chance for a long
talk with him. On his part he was at once strongly attracted by the
young Marquis. “You have made the greatest sacrifices for our cause,
sir,” Washington said, “and your evident zeal and generosity interest
me deeply. I shall do my part toward making you one of us. I shall be
greatly pleased to have you join my staff as a volunteer aid, and beg
you to make my headquarters your home, until events place you elsewhere.
I beg you to consider yourself at all times as one of my military
family, and I shall be glad to welcome you at the camp as speedily
as you think proper. Of course I cannot promise you the luxuries of
a court, but, as you have now become an American soldier, you will
doubtless accommodate yourself to the fare of an American army, and
submit with a good grace to its customs, manners, and privations.”
The next day Washington invited Lafayette to accompany him on a tour of
inspection of the fortifications about Philadelphia.
The General liked the Marquis, but was not quite certain how the latter
could best be employed. He wrote to Benjamin Harrison, who was a member
of Congress, “As I understand the Marquis de Lafayette, it is certain
that he does not conceive that his commission is merely honorary, but
is given with a view to command a division of this army. It is true he
has said that he is young and inexperienced; but at the same time he
has always accompanied it with a hint that, so soon as I shall think
him fit for the command of a division, he shall be ready to enter upon
his duties, and in the meantime has offered his services for a smaller
command. What the designs of Congress respecting this gentleman were,
and what line of conduct I am to pursue to comply with their design and
his expectations--I know not and beg to be instructed.... Let me beseech
you, my good sir, to give me the sentiments of Congress on this matter,
that I may endeavor, as far as it is in my power, to comply with them.”
Mr. Harrison answered that Congress intended Lafayette’s appointment to
be regarded merely as an honorary one, and that the commander-in-chief
was to use his own judgment concerning him.
In the meantime Lafayette set out from Philadelphia to join
Washington’s army. That army, early in August, had begun its march
eastward, hoping to cut off any British move about New York; but the
appearance of the British fleet off the Delaware had brought them to a
halt, and Washington ordered them into camp near the present village of
Hartsville, on the old York Road leading out of Philadelphia. Here, on
August twenty-first, Lafayette joined the army, just as the commander,
with Generals Stirling, Greene, and Knox, was about to review the
troops.
It was indeed a sorry-looking army, according to the standards of
Europe. There were about eleven thousand men, poorly armed and
wretchedly clad. Their clothes were old and ragged, hardly any two suits
alike, and the men knew little enough about military tactics. Courage
and resolution had to take the place of science; but there was no lack
of either bravery or determination. Yet some of the foreign officers
who had seen the American army had spoken very slightingly of it, and
Washington said to Lafayette, “It is somewhat embarrassing to us to show
ourselves to an officer who has just come from the army of France.”
Lafayette, always tactful, always sympathetic, smiled. “I am here to
learn and not to teach, Your Excellency,” he answered.
A council of war followed the review, and the commander asked the
Marquis to attend it. The council decided that if the British were
planning to invade the Carolinas it was unwise to attempt to follow them
south, and that the army had better try to recapture New York. But at
that very moment a messenger brought word that the British fleet had
sailed into Chesapeake Bay, and, hearing this, Washington concluded to
march his army to the south of Philadelphia and prepare to defend that
city.
Ragged and out-at-elbows as the small American army was, it marched
proudly through the streets of Philadelphia. With sprigs of green
branches in their hats the soldiers stepped along to the tune of fife
and drum, presenting, at least in the eyes of the townspeople, a very
gallant appearance. Lafayette rode by the side of Washington, glad that
the opportunity had come for him to be of service.
Very soon he had a chance to share danger with his commander. When the
troops arrived on the heights of Wilmington, Washington, with Lafayette
and Greene, made a reconnaissance, and, being caught by a storm and
darkness, was obliged to spend the night so near to the British lines
that he might easily have been discovered by a scout or betrayed into
the hands of the enemy.
Meantime General Howe and Lord Cornwallis had landed eighteen thousand
veteran troops near what is now Elkton in Maryland, and was advancing
toward Philadelphia. To defend the city Washington drew up his forces on
September ninth at Chadd’s Ford on the Brandywine. One column of Howe’s
army marched to this place and on September eleventh succeeded in
driving across the river to the American camp. The other column, under
command of Cornwallis, made a long détour through the thickly wooded
country, and bore down on the right and rear of Washington’s army,
threatening its total destruction.
The American commander at once sent General Sullivan, with five thousand
men, to meet this force on the right. Realizing that most of the
fighting would be done there, Lafayette asked and was given permission
to join General Sullivan. Riding up as a volunteer aid, he found the
half-formed wings of the American army attacked by the full force under
Cornwallis. The Americans had to fall back, two of General Sullivan’s
aids were killed, and a disorderly retreat began. Lafayette leaped from
his horse, and, sword in hand, called on the soldiers to make a stand.
He checked the retreat for a few moments; other troops came up, and the
Americans offered gallant resistance. Lafayette was shot through the
calf of the leg, but, apparently unconscious of the wound, continued
to encourage his men. Then Cornwallis’s brigades swept forward again,
and Sullivan’s troops had to give ground before the greater numbers. The
battle became a general rout. Gimat, Lafayette’s aid, saw that the young
man was wounded, and helped him to mount his horse. The wounded man then
tried to rejoin Washington, but soon after he had to stop to have his
leg bandaged.
The first British column had driven the American troops from Chadd’s
Ford, and the latter, together with Sullivan’s men, fell back along
the road to Chester. Washington attempted to cover the retreat with
rear-guard fighting, but night found him pursued by both divisions of
the enemy. In the retreat Lafayette came to a bridge, and made a stand
until Washington and his aids reached him. Then together they rode on
to Chester, and there the Frenchman’s wound was properly dressed by a
surgeon.
The battle had been in one sense a defeat for the Americans, but it had
shown General Howe the fine fighting quality of Washington’s men, and
the American commander had been able to save the bulk of his army, when
Howe had expected to capture it entire. Today a little monument stands
on a ridge near the Quaker meeting-house outside Chadd’s Ford, erected,
so the inscription says, “by the citizens and school children of Chester
County,” because, “on the rising ground a short distance south of this
spot, Lafayette was wounded at the Battle of Brandywine, September 11,
1777.” And the monument also bears these words of Lafayette: “The honor
to have mingled my blood with that of many other American soldiers on
the heights of the Brandywine has been to me a source of pride and
delight.”
The battle-field of the Brandywine was only about twenty-six miles from
Philadelphia, and the cannonade had been clearly heard in the city. The
word the couriers brought filled the people with alarm; many citizens
began to fly from the city and Congress took its departure, to meet at
the town of York, one hundred miles to the west. The Americans wounded
at the Brandywine were sent to Philadelphia, and Lafayette was conveyed
there by water. From that city he was sent up the Delaware River to
Bristol. There he met Henry Laurens, who had succeeded John Hancock as
the president of Congress, and Laurens, being on his way to York, took
Lafayette with him in his own carriage to the Old Sun Inn at Bethlehem,
the quiet home of a people called the Moravians, fifty miles to the
north of Philadelphia. In later times Henry Laurens, by one of those
strange turns of the wheel of fate, became a prisoner in the Tower of
London, and Madame de Lafayette repaid his kindness to her husband by
seeking the aid of the French government to secure his release.