Newport, in Rhode Island. Washington sent orders to General Sullivan at
Providence to ask the states of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode
Island to supply enough militia to make up an army of five thousand men.
At the same time he sent Lafayette with two thousand men from the Hudson
to Providence to support the French naval attack.
On July twenty-ninth the French fleet reached Point Judith and anchored
about five miles from Newport. General Sullivan and Lafayette and some
other officers went on board to make plans for the joint attack. The
British troops numbered about six thousand men, and they were strongly
intrenched. The allies had some four thousand men on the French ships
and between nine and ten thousand Americans at Providence.
Disputes arose as to the best plan of campaign; it was argued whether
the men of the two nations would fight better separately or together.
Then the English fleet appeared in the distance, and D’Estaing,
considering that it was his chief business to destroy the enemy
squadron, at once stood out to sea. A violent storm came up, driving the
two fleets apart, and doing great damage to ships on both sides. When
the storm subsided D’Estaing insisted on sailing his fleet to Boston to
make needed repairs, and so the joint expedition came to an end, without
having struck a blow. General Sullivan’s plans were in confusion.
Lafayette rode to Boston and begged the French admiral to come back as
soon as he could. At last D’Estaing promised to land his sailors and
march them overland to Newport; but before he could do this the British
were strongly reinforced, and Lafayette had to gallop back to protect
his own rear-guard forces. The Americans were in peril, but again, as at
Monmouth, he was able to save them from defeat.
There was great disappointment over the failure of the attack on
Newport, and this was increased by the feeling that there had been
disputes between the American and French commanders. Lafayette had
all he could do to make each side appreciate the other. In this he
was greatly helped by Washington, who wrote to both the French and
the American generals, soothing their discontent, patching up their
differences, and urging future union for the sake of the common cause.
It was now autumn, and there was little prospect of a further campaign
that year. Wearied by the many misunderstandings, distressed by the
failure of the joint attack, homesick and sad over the news of the death
of his little daughter in France, Lafayette decided to ask for a leave
of absence and go back to France on furlough. In October he reached
Philadelphia and presented his request. Washington, much as he disliked
to lose Lafayette’s services even for a short time, seconded his
wishes. And Congress, which only sixteen months before had hesitated
to accept his services, now did all it could to pay him the greatest
honor. It thanked him for his high assistance and zeal, it directed
the American minister in Paris to present him with a sword of honor,
and it ordered its best war-ship, the frigate _Alliance_, to convey
him to France. Henry Laurens, the president of Congress, wrote to King
Louis XVI. that Congress could not allow Lafayette to depart without
testifying its appreciation of his courage, devotion, patience, and the
uniform excellence of conduct which had won the confidence of the United
States and the affection of its citizens.
And finally Monsieur Gérard, the French minister at Philadelphia, wrote
to his government in Paris, “You know how little inclined I am to
flattery, but I cannot resist saying that the prudent, courageous, and
amiable conduct of the Marquis de Lafayette has made him the idol of the
Congress, the army, and the people of America.”
With words like these ringing in his ears, Lafayette said good-bye to
George Washington in October, 1778, and rode away from camp, bound for
Boston, where he was to board the frigate _Alliance_.
VII
THE FRENCHMAN IN THE FIELD AGAIN
Lafayette, on his way to board the _Alliance_, rode into the town
of Fishkill-on-the-Hudson, and there fell ill of fever. He had been
entertained by people all the way from Philadelphia to the camp on the
Hudson, and these constant receptions, combined with chilly and wet
weather, brought on malaria. The Marquis was very sick; Washington
rode daily from his camp eight miles away to inquire about Lafayette’s
condition, and insisted on his own physician taking charge of the
patient. And when the young Frenchman recovered the commander-in-chief
sent his physician on to Boston with him, and wrote him, “I am
persuaded, my dear marquis, that there is no need of fresh proofs to
convince you either of my affection for you personally or of the high
opinion I entertain of your military talents and merit.”
The strongest affection bound these two men, so different in many
respects, so alike in their love of liberty and honor. On board his ship
in Boston Harbor Lafayette added a postscript to a letter to Washington.
“The sails are just going to be hoisted, my dear general,” he said,
“and I have but time to take my last leave of you.... Farewell. I hope
your French friend will ever be dear to you; I hope I shall soon see
you again, and tell you myself with what emotion I now leave the coast
you inhabit and with what affection and respect I am forever, my dear
general, your respectful and sincere friend, Lafayette.”
On January 11, 1779, the _Alliance_ sailed for France, having had so
much difficulty in making up its crew that a number of English prisoners
and deserters had been pressed into service as sailors. This makeshift
crew came very near to proving disastrous for the Marquis. An English
law offered to pay the full value of any American ship to the crew that
would bring it into an English port, and there were considerably more
English prisoners and deserters in the crew of the _Alliance_ than there
were American and French sailors. The _Alliance_ was approaching the
French coast, having just weathered a storm, when a sailor ran into
the cabin where the officers were sitting. He said that the prisoners
and deserters who had been pressed into service had planned a mutiny,
and that, taking him for an Irishman, they had offered him the command
in case of success. A lookout was to give the signal “Sail ho!” and as
the officers came on deck in a group they were to be shot down by cannon
loaded with grape-shot and the ship sailed into an English port, where
the mutineers would divide the profits. The loyal American sailor said
that the signal would be given in about an hour.
Immediately the officers seized their swords, and, rushing on deck,
called the Americans and Frenchmen together. The thirty-three mutineers,
taken by surprise, were captured and clapped into irons, and the rest of
the crew sailed the _Alliance_ into the French harbor of Brest a week
later.
Here Lafayette was welcomed with delight. The young fellow who had run
away to sea in the _Victory_ was returning like a hero in a war-ship
of the new American republic. In triumph he landed at Brest, and as he
hurried to Paris to see his family he was greeted by joyful crowds
all along his route. He stopped at the royal palace of Versailles, and
his old friend Marie Antoinette came out into the gardens to hear him
tell his adventures. King Louis sent for him, and ordered him under
arrest as a deserter, but with a twinkling eye declared that his prison
should be his father-in-law’s great house in Paris, and his jailer his
wife Adrienne. Then the King forgave him for running away to America,
congratulated him, and, with his ministers, consulted the Marquis about
affairs in the United States. Lafayette said, “I had the honor of being
consulted by all the ministers and, what was a great deal better, of
being kissed by all the women.”
The welcome he cared for the most was that from his wife, who had
followed him in her thoughts all the time he had been in America, and
had always sympathized with him and wished success for his plans. The
Duke d’Ayen was delighted to see him and welcomed him to his house with
open arms. Whenever the Marquis appeared on the street he was cheered by
admiring throngs. The actors in the theatres put special words in their
parts to honor Lafayette; poems were written about him; and the young
man of twenty-one became the lion of Paris.
In a sense he represented the connecting link in the alliance that now
united the two countries, and that alliance was in great favor with the
people. He also stood for that ideal of “liberty” which was rapidly
becoming the ruling thought of France. It would have been easy for him
to rest on his laurels now, and feel that he had accomplished all that
was needed of him.
But instead he used all this hero-worship to further his one aim--more
help for the young republic across the sea. “In the midst of the whirl
of excitement by which I was carried along,” he said, “I never lost
sight of the revolution, the success of which still seemed to me to
be extremely uncertain; accustomed as I was to seeing great purposes
accomplished with slender means, I used to say to myself that the cost
of a single fête would have equipped the army of the United States, and
in order to provide clothes for them I would gladly have stripped the
palace at Versailles.”
With this desire to help the United States ever in his thoughts he went
to see Benjamin Franklin, and with Franklin and the American sea-captain
John Paul Jones he planned an expedition against England in which he
should lead the land forces and Paul Jones command the fleet. While they
were arranging this the French government suggested a greater plan.
Spain was to unite with France in defense of America. Details were being
worked out when John Paul Jones embarked in his ship, the _Bon Homme
Richard_, and had his famous sea-fight with the _Serapis_. But the
Spanish government delayed and at last the French gave up the idea of a
joint attack on England.
Meantime Lafayette joined the French army again and was commissioned a
colonel of the King’s Dragoons. While he was waiting at Havre he was
presented by Franklin’s grandson with the sword that the Congress of the
United States had ordered should be given to him. It was a beautiful
sword; the handle was of gold, exquisitely wrought, and decorated, as
well as the blade, with figures emblematical of Lafayette’s career in
America, with his coat of arms and his motto, “_Cur non?_”
And while he waited he was always impatient to be of help to his friends
across the Atlantic. To Washington he wrote, “However happy I find
myself in France, however well treated by my country and my king, I am
so accustomed to being near to you, I am bound to you, to America, to my
companions in arms by such an affection, that the moment when I sail for
your country will be among the happiest and most wished for of my life.”
His great work during that year he spent in France was the winning of
a French army, under the Count de Rochambeau, to fight by the side
of the Americans. There was opposition to this at first, for neither
Louis XVI. nor Marie Antoinette nor the royal princes who surrounded
them cared to encourage the spirit of liberty too far. But the people,
backed by their hero, Lafayette, demanded it, and at last their
persistency won the day. The government of France decided to send an
army, commanded by Rochambeau, lieutenant-general of the royal forces,
with a fleet of warships and transports and six thousand soldiers, to
the aid of America.
Lafayette was sent ahead to carry the welcome news to Washington and
Congress, and to let them know that there would be no more of the
jealousies and disputes that had hindered the success of the French
and Americans in the field before. For Lafayette had arranged that the
French troops should be under Washington’s orders, that they should
accept the leadership of the American officers on the latter’s own
ground, and that officers of the United States should be recognized as
having equal rank with those of France. This harmony that Lafayette
secured had a great deal to do with the final successful outcome of the
American Revolution.
He sailed on the French frigate _Hermione_, and reached Boston on April
28, 1780. The people of Boston escorted him with cheers to the house of
Governor John Hancock on Beacon Hill. This was the same John Hancock
who had once turned Lafayette over to Gouverneur Morris with scarcely a
word of welcome, but he greeted him differently now. Instead of being
an adventurous foreign recruit the Marquis was a major-general in the
American army and the official representative of the court of France.
From Boston he went to Morristown, where Washington had his
headquarters, and there the two friends discussed the situation.
Lafayette told of the coming of the French fleet and army, which brought
the greatest joy to the commander-in-chief, because he could only
speak of the hardships his soldiers had borne during the winter, the
difficulty of securing recruits, and the general discouragement of the
country. Greatly cheered himself, he sent Lafayette to Philadelphia to
make his report to Congress, and set himself to the work of rousing his
army and the people to welcome the men from France.
In Philadelphia Lafayette received the thanks of Congress for his
services in Europe, and then busied himself with the equipment of the
army. Washington’s troops certainly needed some attention. Half-fed and
half-clothed, with only four thousand out of six thousand soldiers fit
for duty, they presented so sorry an appearance that Lafayette said to
the president of Congress, “though I have been directed to furnish the
French court and the French generals with early and minute intelligence,
I confess that pride has stopped my pen and, notwithstanding past
promises, I have avoided entering into any details till our army is put
in a better and more decent situation.”
But Washington roused Congress and the country, and by the time the
French fleet arrived the American army was in much better condition.
On July 10, 1780, the Count de Rochambeau, with the French army, reached
Newport, and the French commander, informing Washington of his arrival,
declared, as his government had instructed him, “We are now, sir, under
your command.”
Plans had to be laid, arrangements made for the union of the French and
American armies, and much time was taken up in military discussions. One
of Lafayette’s pet schemes was broached again, the invasion of Canada
by the joint forces, and the details of this invasion were entrusted
to General Benedict Arnold, who was to be in command. On September
twentieth Washington, with Lafayette and General Knox, met the Count
de Rochambeau and Admiral de Terney, who commanded the French fleet,
and final arrangements were made. But at this very moment events were
taking place which were to frustrate the scheme.
For at the very moment when Washington and Rochambeau were in conference
at Hartford Benedict Arnold and Major John André, of the British
army, were holding a secret meeting, the object of which was to give
Washington’s plans to the enemy. It so happened that Washington, when
he left Hartford with Knox and Lafayette, took a roundabout road in
order to show the Marquis the fortifications which had been built at
West Point in his absence. On the morning of September twenty-fourth the
party of American officers arrived within a mile of the Robinson house,
where Mrs. Benedict Arnold was expecting them at breakfast.
Washington, absorbed in his work, was about to ride on when Lafayette
reminded him of Mrs. Arnold’s invitation. The commander-in-chief
laughed. “Ah, Marquis,” he said, “you young men are all in love with
Mrs. Arnold. I see you are eager to be with her as soon as possible. Go
and breakfast with her, and tell her not to wait for me. I must ride
down and examine the redoubts on this side of the river, but will be
with her shortly.”
Lafayette and Knox, however, preferred to ride on with the General, and
the message was sent to the Robinson house by Colonel Hamilton and Major
McHenry. Mrs. Arnold, who had lately joined her husband there with her
baby, welcomed her guests and entertained them at breakfast. It was a
trying situation for her husband, for it happened that that was the very
day on which he was to make his final arrangements with the British.
While they sat at the breakfast-table a messenger galloped up to the
door with a letter for Arnold. He opened it and read that André had
been captured, and the secret papers found upon him had been sent to
Washington. Arnold rose from the table and beckoned his wife to follow
him to her room. There he told her that he was a ruined man and must
fly for his life. Leaving her fainting on the floor, he left the house,
mounted the messenger’s horse, and dashed down to the river through a
ravine. There he boarded his boat, and was rowed rapidly down the river
to the English ship _The Vulture_.
Almost immediately after Arnold’s hurried departure Washington,
Lafayette, and Knox reached the Robinson house. The commander supposed
that Arnold had gone to West Point to prepare for his reception, and,
having eaten a hasty breakfast, Washington and his companions crossed
the river. No salute, however, was fired at their approach, and Colonel
Lamb, the officer in command, came and apologized, saying that he had
received no information of Washington’s visit.
“Is not General Arnold here?” Washington inquired.
“No, sir,” said Lamb. “He has not been here for two days, nor have I
heard from him in that time.”
Somewhat surprised, but still unsuspicious, Washington and the others
spent the morning examining the works.
As they rode back to the Robinson house about noon they were met by
Colonel Hamilton, who took Washington aside, and handed him the secret
papers that had been found on André. At once the whole plot was clear.
Washington sent Hamilton immediately to arrest Arnold, but the Colonel
found that the man had already flown. Then the commander-in-chief told
the news to Lafayette and Knox, and, saying how much he had always
trusted General Arnold, added, “Whom can we trust now?”
It was Lafayette who later tried to comfort Mrs. Arnold, when the full
realization of her husband’s disgrace almost drove her to despair.
And he sat with the other general officers at a court-martial in the
headquarters at Tappan on the Hudson when John André, adjutant-general
of the British army, after a fair trial, was convicted of being a spy
and was sentenced to be hung. But Lafayette was a very generous judge,
and wrote of André later, “He was a very interesting man; he conducted
himself in a manner so frank, so noble, and so delicate, that I cannot
help feeling for him an infinite pity.”
The treason of Benedict Arnold prevented the invasion of Canada, and
Lafayette saw no active service for some time. He spent the autumn
in camp on the Hudson and in New Jersey, and part of the winter in
Philadelphia. A number of French officers had gathered here, and they,
used to the gayeties of the most brilliant court in Europe, added much
to the amusements of the American capital. Every one liked the French
guests, and the foreign officers, on their part, liked and admired their
new allies. Sometimes the self-denying seriousness of the Americans,
which was an element of their national strength, amused and surprised
the gayer Frenchmen. One of the latter, the Marquis de Chastellux, told
a story about Philadelphia in his volume of “Travels.” He said that at
balls in Philadelphia it was the custom to have a Continental officer
as the master of ceremonies, and that at one party he attended that
position was held by a Colonel Mitchell, who showed the same devotion to
duty in the ballroom that he showed on the field of battle. This Colonel
saw a young girl so busily talking that she could pay little attention
to the figures of the quadrille, so he marched up to her and said to her
severely, “Take care what you are doing; do you suppose you are there
for your pleasure?”
Naturally the Marquis de Chastellux and his friends, fresh from the
world of Marie Antoinette, where pleasure was always the first aim, had
many a laugh at the people of this new world. But with the laugh there
always went respect and admiration.
So Lafayette passed the time until the campaign of 1781 opened. He wrote
often to his wife, and sent her a long letter by his friend Colonel
Laurens, when the latter went on a mission to the court of France.
Another child had been born to the Marquis and Adrienne, a son, who
was given the name of George Washington. “Embrace our children,” wrote
Lafayette, “thousands of times for me. Although a vagabond, their father
is none the less tender, less constantly thoughtful of them, less happy
to hear from them. My heart perceives, as in a delicious perspective,
the moment when my dear children will be presented to me by you, and
when we can kiss and caress them together. Do you think that Anastasie
will recognize me?” And, as he could never write without thinking of the
brave army he commanded, he added, “Only _citizens_ could support the
nakedness, the hunger, the labors, and the absolute lack of pay which
constitute the conditions of our soldiers, the most enduring and the
most patient, I believe, of any in the world.”
In January, 1781, word came to Washington’s headquarters that General
Benedict Arnold had landed in Virginia with a good-sized army, was
laying waste the country, and had already destroyed the valuable stores
collected at Richmond. If Arnold’s campaign should succeed the result
would be to place all the Southern States in the hands of the enemy.
Let him defeat the few American troops in Virginia and he could march
to join the English General Cornwallis, who was pressing General Greene
very hard in the Carolinas.
Indeed Cornwallis already appeared to hold the south in his grasp. He
had beaten the small contingents of American troops in that country,
and at the battle of Camden, in South Carolina, Lafayette’s old
companion, the Baron de Kalb, had fallen in battle. It was of the
utmost importance, therefore, to defeat or capture Arnold, who had been
rewarded for his treason by being made a general in the British army,
and Washington at once planned to send a detachment from his main army
against Arnold by land, and a naval force to Chesapeake Bay to cut off
his escape by sea. The French admiral ordered a ship-of-the-line and
two frigates to the Chesapeake, and Washington placed twelve hundred
light infantry under Lafayette with instructions to aid the fleet.
This command, of the greatest importance, showed the confidence and
trust that the commander-in-chief felt in the military ability of the
Frenchman.
Lafayette marched rapidly south and reached the Head of the Elk on March
second, three days earlier than had been expected. Here he embarked
his troops on small boats and descended to Annapolis. Seeing no signs
of the French squadron, he concluded that they had been delayed by
adverse winds, and, leaving his army at Annapolis, he went with a few
officers to consult with Baron Steuben and seek his aid. He secured some
companies of militia at Williamsburg, near the York River, and proceeded
to the camp of General Muhlenberg, near Suffolk, to have a look at
Benedict Arnold’s defenses at Portsmouth.
Meantime a large fleet appeared in Chesapeake Bay. Lafayette, and Arnold
also, thought that this must be the French squadron, but the American
commander soon received word that the ships were English. It turned
out that the first French squadron had found there was too little water
in the bay for them, and had sailed back to Newport, while a second
squadron had been driven off by the English. The result was that General
Arnold’s forces were relieved from danger, and the enemy reinforced by
two new regiments under General Phillips, who now took command of all
the English armies in Virginia.