addition to this painful circumstance, I feel also the still more
dreadful uncertainty of the time in which I may receive any news of
you. I hope, however, soon to have a letter from you; and, amongst the
various reasons which render me so desirous of a speedy arrival, this is
the one which excites in me the greatest degree of impatience. How many
fears and anxieties enhance the keen anguish I feel at being separated
from all that I love most fondly in the world! How have you borne my
second departure? have you loved me less? have you pardoned me? have
you reflected that, at all events, I must equally have been parted from
you,--wandering about in Italy,~[1] dragging on an inglorious life,
surrounded by the persons most opposed to my projects, and to my manner
of thinking? All these reflections did not prevent my experiencing the
most bitter grief when the moment arrived for quitting my native shore.
Your sorrow, that of my friends, Henrietta,~[2] all rushed upon my
thoughts, and my heart was torn by a thousand painful feelings. I could
not at that instant find any excuse for my own conduct. If you could
know all that I have suffered, and the melancholy days that I have
passed, whilst thus flying from all that I love best in the World! Must
I join to this affliction the grief of hearing that you do not pardon
me? I should, in truth, my love, be too unhappy. But I am not speaking
to you of myself and of my health, and I well know that these details
will deeply interest you.
Since writing my last letter, I have been confined to the most dreary
of all regions: the sea is so melancholy, that we mutually, I believe,
sadden each other. I ought to have landed by this time, but the winds
have been most provokingly contrary; I shall not arrive at Charlestown
for eight or ten days. It will be a great pleasure to me to land, as I
am expecting to do, in that city. When I am once on shore, I shall hope
each day to receive news from France; I shall learn so many interesting,
things, both concerning the new country I am seeking, and, above all,
that home which I have quitted with so much regret! Provided I only
learn that you are in good health, that you still love me, and that a
certain number of my friends entertain the same feelings towards me, I
can become a perfect philosopher with respect to all the rest,--whatever
it may be, or whatever land it may concern. But if my heart be attacked
in its most vulnerable part, if you were to love me less, I should feel,
in truth, too miserable. But I need not fear this--need I, my dearest
love? I was very ill during the first part of my voyage, and I might
have enjoyed the pleasure of an ill-natured person, that of knowing
that I had many fellow sufferers. I treated myself according to my
own judgment, and recovered sooner than the other passengers; I am now
nearly the same as if I were on shore. I am certain that, on my arrival,
I shall be in a perfect state of health, and continue so for a
long time. Do not fancy that I shall incur any real dangers by the
occupations I am undertaking. The post of general officer has always
been considered like a commission for immortality. The service will be
very different from the one I must have performed if I had been, for
example, a colonel in the French army. My attendance will only be
required in the council. Ask the opinion of all general officers,--and
these are very numerous, because, having once attained that height, they
are no longer exposed to any hazards, and do not therefore yield their
places to inferior officers, as is the case in other situations. To
prove that I do not wish to deceive you, I will acknowledge that we are
at this moment exposed to some danger, from the risk of being attacked
by English vessels, and that my ship is not of sufficient force for
defence. But when I have once landed, I shall be in perfect safety. You
see that I tell you everything, my dearest love; confide therefore in
me, and do not, I conjure you, give way to idle fears. I will not write
you a journal of my voyage: days succeed each other, and, what is
worse, resemble each other. Always sky, always water, and the next day
a repetition of the same thing. In truth, those who write volumes upon a
sea voyage must be incessant babblers; for my part, I have had contrary
winds, as well as other people; I have made a long voyage, like other
people; I have encountered storms; I have seen vessels, and they were
far more interesting for me than for any other person: well! I have not
observed one single event worth the trouble of relating, or that has not
been described by many other persons.
Let us speak of more important things: of yourself, of dear Henriette,
and of her brother or sister. Henriette is so delightful, that she has
made me in love with little girls. To whichever sex our new infant may
belong, I shall receive it with unbounded joy. Lose not a moment in
hastening my happiness by apprising me of its birth. I know not if it be
because I am twice a father, but my parental feelings are stronger than
they ever were. Mr. Deane, and my friend Carmichael, will forward your
letters, and will, I am sure, neglect nothing to promote my happiness
as soon as possible. Write, and even send me a confidential person,
it would give me such pleasure to question any one who has seen you:
Landrin, for example; in short, whom you please. You do not know the
warmth and extent of my affection, if you fancy that you may neglect
anything relating to yourself. You will be, at first, a long time
without hearing from me; but when I am once established you will
receive letters constantly, and of a very recent date. There is no great
difference of time between letters from America and letters from Sicily.
I own that Sicily weighs heavily on my heart. I fancied myself near
seeing you again! But let me break off at the word Sicily. Adieu, my
dearest love; I shall write to you from Charlestown, and write to you
also before I arrive there. Good night, for the present.
7th June.
I am still floating on this dreary plain, the most wearisome of all
human habitations. To console myself a little, I think of you and of
my friends: I think of the pleasure of seeing you again. How delightful
will be the moment of my arrival! I shall hasten to surprise and embrace
you. I shall perhaps find you with your children. To think, only, of
that happy moment, is an inexpressible pleasure to me; do not fancy that
it is distant; although the time of my absence will appear, I own, very
long to me, yet we shall meet sooner than you can expect. Without being
able myself to fix the day or the month of our reunion, without being
aware even of the cause of our absence, the exile prescribed by the Duke
d'Ayen, until the month of January, appeared to me so immeasurably long,
that I certainly shall not inflict upon myself one of equal length. You
must acknowledge, my love, that the occupation and situation I shall
have are very different from those that were intended for me during that
useless journey. Whilst defending the liberty I adore, I shall enjoy
perfect freedom myself: I but offer my service to that interesting
republic from motives of the purest kind, unmixed with ambition or
private views; her happiness and my glory are my only incentives to the
task. I hope that, for my sake, you will become a good American, for
that feeling is worthy of every noble heart. The happiness of America is
intimately connected with the happiness of all mankind; she will
become the safe and respected asylum of virtue, integrity, toleration,
equality, and tranquil happiness.
We have occasionally some slight alarms, but, with a little skill
and good luck, I am certain of reaching the port in safety. I am more
pleased with this prospect, because I feel that I am becoming, every
day, extremely reasonable. You know that the viscount~[3] has the habit
of repeating, that "_travelling forms young men_;" if he said this but
once every morning and once every evening, in truth it would not be too
much, for I am constantly more strongly impressed with the justice of
the observation. I know not where the poor viscount is at this present
moment, nor the prince,~[4] nor all my other friends. This state of
uncertainty is a very painful one. Whenever you chance to meet any
one whom I love, tell him a thousand and ten thousand things from me.
Embrace tenderly my three sisters, and tell them that they must remember
me, and love me; present my compliments to Mademoiselle Marin;~[5] I
recommend, also, poor Abbé Fayon to your care. As to the Marshal de
Noailles, tell him that I do not write to him, for fear of tiring him,
and because I should have nothing to announce to him but my arrival;
that I am expecting his commissions for trees or plants, or whatever
else he may desire, and that I should wish my exactness in fulfilling
his wishes to be a proof of my affection for him. Present, also, my
respects to the Duchess de la Trémoïlle,~[6] and tell her that I make
the same offer to her as to the Marshal de Noailles, either for herself
or her daughter-in-law, who has such a beautiful garden. Tell my old
friend Desplaus,~[7] also, that I am well. As to my aunts, Madame d'Ayen
and the viscountess, I am myself writing to them.
These are my little commissions, my love; I have also written to Sicily.
We have seen, to-day, several kinds of birds, which announce that we are
not far from shore. The hope of arriving is very sweet, for a ship life
is a most wearisome one. My health, fortunately, allows me to occupy
myself a little; I divide my time between military books and English
books. I have made some progress in this language, which will become
very necessary to me. Adieu; night obliges me to discontinue my letter,
as I forbade some days ago, any candles being used in my vessel: see how
prudent I have become! Once more, adieu; if my fingers be at all guided
by my heart, it is not necessary to see clearly to tell you that I love
you, and that I shall love you all my life.
15th June--At Major Hughes's.~[8]
I have arrived, my dearest love, in perfect health, at the house of
an American officer; and, by the most fortunate chance in the world, a
French vessel is on the point of sailing; conceive how happy I am. I
am going this evening to Charlestown, from whence I will write to you.
There is no important news. The campaign is opened, but there is no
fighting, or at least, very little. The manners in this part of the
world are simple, polite, and worthy in every respect of the country
in which the noble name of liberty is constantly repeated. I intended
writing to Madame d'Ayen, but I find it is impossible. Adieu, adieu,
my love. From Charlestown I shall repair, by land, to Philadelphia, to
rejoin the army. Is it not true that you will always love me?
Footnotes:
1. At the moment when M. de Lafayette's project of departure was taking
place, he had been desired to join the Duke d'Ayen, and Madame de Tessé,
his sister, who were setting out for Italy and Sicily.
2. The first-born of M. de Lafayette, which died during his voyage. (See
letter 16th June, 1778.)
3. The Viscount de Noailles, brother-in-law to M. de Lafayette.
4. The Prince de Poix, son of the Marshal de Mouchy, and consequently
uncle, according to the mode of Bretagne, to Madame de Lafayette.
5. Mademoiselle Marin was governess to Mesdemoiselles de Noailles; and
the Abbé Fayon was tutor to M. de Lafayette.
6. Madame de Lafayette, author of the _Princess de Clever_, had only one
daughter, who became Madame de la Tremoille, and heiress to the property
of the Lafayette family; and who cheerfully consented to restore to her
cousins, who inhabited the province, those estates which a love of their
family might make them wish to conserve to the heritors of the name of
Lafayette. Since that period, the members of that branch, of which M. de
Lafayette was the last scion, have constantly kept up feelings, not only
of relationship, but of friendship, with the family of la Tremoille.
7. An old valet de chambre.
8. The father of him who so generously devoted himself to save Lafayette
from the prisons of Olmutz--(Note of M. de Lafayette.)
TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.
June 19th, 1777, Charlestown.
If my last letter, my dearest love, written five or six days ago, was
closed hastily, I hope at least that the American captain, whom I then
believed to be a French one, will remit it to you as soon as possible.
That letter announced to you that I had landed safely in this country,
after having suffered a little from sea-sickness during the first weeks
of my voyage; that I was staying with a very kind officer, in whose
house I was received upon my arrival; that I had been nearly two months
at sea, and was anxious to continue my journey immediately; that letter
spoke of everything which interests my heart most deeply, of my regret
at having quitted you, of your pregnancy, and of our dear children; it
told you, also, that I was in perfect health. I repeat this extract from
it, because the English may very possibly amuse themselves by seizing it
on its way. I place, however, so much confidence in my lucky star, that
I hope it will reach you safely. That same star has protected me to the
astonishment of every person; you may, therefore, trust a little to it
in future, my love, and let this conviction tranquillize your fears. I
landed after having sailed for several days along a coast swarming with
hostile vessels. On my arrival here every one told me that my ship must
undoubtedly be taken, because two English frigates had blockaded the
harbour. I even sent, both by land and sea, orders to the captain to
put the men on shore, and burn the vessel, if he had still the power of
doing so. Well! by a most extraordinary piece of good fortune, a sudden
gale of wind having blown away the frigates for a short time, my vessel
arrived at noon-day, without having encountered friend or foe. At
Charlestown I have met with General Howe, a general officer, now engaged
in service. The governor of the state is expected this evening from the
country. All the persons with whom I wished to be acquainted have
shewn me the greatest attention and politeness (not European politeness
merely); I can only feel gratitude for the reception I have met
with, although I have not yet thought proper to enter into any detail
respecting my future prospects and arrangements. I wish to see the
congress first. I hope to set out in two days for Philadelphia, which
is a land journey of more than two hundred and fifty leagues. We shall
divide into small parties; I have already purchased horses and light
carriages for this purpose. There are some French and American vessels
at present here, who are to sail out of the harbour in company to-morrow
morning, taking advantage of a moment when the frigates are out of
sight: they are numerous and armed, and have promised me to defend
themselves stoutly against the small privateers they will undoubtedly
meet with. I shall distribute my letters amongst the different ships, in
case any accident should happen to either one of them.
I shall now speak to you, my love, about the country and its
inhabitants, who are as agreeable as my enthusiasm had led me to
imagine. Simplicity of manner, kindness of heart, love of country and of
liberty, and a delightful state of equality, are met with universally.
The richest and the poorest man are completely on a level; and although
there are some immense fortunes in this country, I may challenge any one
to point out the slightest difference in their respective manner towards
each other. I first saw and judged of a country life at Major Hughes's
house: I am at present in the city, where everything somewhat resembles
the English customs, except that you find more simplicity here than you
would do in England. Charlestown is one of the best built, handsomest,
and most agreeable cities that I have ever seen. The American women are
very pretty, and have great simplicity of character; and the extreme
neatness of their appearance is truly delightful: cleanliness is
everywhere even more studiously attended to here than in England. What
gives me most pleasure is to see how completely the citizens are all
brethren of one family. In America there are none poor, and none even
that can be called peasants. Each citizen has some property, and all
citizens have the same rights as the richest individual, or landed
proprietor, in the country. The inns are very different from those of
Europe; the host and hostess sit at table with you, and do the honours
of a comfortable meal; and when you depart, you pay your bill without
being obliged to tax it. If you should dislike going to inns, you may
always find country houses in which you will be received, as a good
American, with the same attention that you might expect in a friend's
house in Europe.
My own reception has been most peculiarly agreeable. To have been merely
my travelling companion, suffices to secure the kindest welcome. I have
just passed five hours at a large dinner given in compliment to me by
an individual of this town. Generals Howe and Moultrie, and several
officers of my suite, were present. We drank each other's health, and
endeavoured to talk English, which I am beginning to speak a little. I
shall pay a visit to-morrow, with these gentlemen, to the governor of
the state, and make the last arrangements for my departure. The next
day, the commanding officers here will take me to see the town and its
environs, and I shall then set out to join the army. I must close and
send my letter immediately, because the vessel goes to-night to the
entrance of the harbour, and sails to-morrow at five o'clock. As all the
ships are exposed to some risk, I shall divide my letters amongst them.
I write to M M. de Coigny, de Poix, de Noailles, de Ségur, and to Madame
d'Ayen.~[1] If either of these should not receive my letter, be so kind
as to mention this circumstance.
From the agreeable life I lead in this country, from the sympathy which
makes me feel as much at ease with the inhabitants as if I had known
them for twenty years, the similarity between their manner of thinking
and of my own, my love of glory and of liberty, you might imagine that I
am very happy: but you are not with me, my dearest love; my friends
are not with me; and there is no happiness for me when far from you and
them. I often ask you if you still love, but I put that question still
more often to myself and my heart ever answers, yes: I trust that heart
does not deceive me. I am inexpressibly anxious to hear from you; I hope
to find some letters at Philadelphia. My only fear is that the privateer
which was to bring them to me should have been captured on her
way. Although I can easily imagine that I have excited the especial
displeasure of the English, by taking the liberty of coming hither in
spite of them, and landing before their very face, yet I must confess
that we shall be even more than on a par if they succeed in catching
that vessel, the object of my fondest hopes, by which I am expecting to
receive your letters. I entreat you to send me both long and frequent
letters. You are not sufficiently conscious of the joy with which I
shall receive them. Embrace, most tenderly, my Henriette: may I add,
embrace our children? The father of those poor children is a wanderer,
but he is, nevertheless, a good honest man,--a good father, warmly
attached to his family, and a good husband also, for he loves his wife
most tenderly. Present my compliments to your friends and to mine; may
I not say _our_ friends? with the permission of the Countess Auguste and
Madame de Fronsac.~[2] By _my friends_, you know that I mean my own dear
circle, formerly of the court, and which afterwards became the society
of _the wooden sword_;~[3] we republicans like it the better for the
change. This letter will be given you by a French captain, who, I think,
will deliver it into your own hands; but I must confide to you that I
have an agreeable anticipation for to-morrow, which is to write to you
by an American, who will sail on the same day, but at a later hour.
Adieu, then, my dearest love; I must leave off for want of time and
paper; and if I do not repeat ten thousand times that I love you, it is
not from want of affection, but from my having the vanity to hope that
I have already convinced you of it. The night is far advanced, the heat
intense, and I am devoured by gnats; but the best countries, as you
perceive, have their inconveniences. Adieu, my love, adieu.
Footnotes:
1. The Viscount de Coigny, son of the last marshal of that name, was the
intimate friend of M. de Lafayette in his youth. He died young, perhaps
even during this voyage.--(See the letters of January the 6th, and
February 13th, 1778.) The Count de Ségur, who had married the sister
of the Duchess d'Ayen, and who was, therefore, the uncle of M. de
Lafayette, continued, to the last, his friend--(See the memoirs
published before his death, which occurred in 1830.)
2. The Countess Auguste d'Aremberg, the wife of Count de Lamark, the
friend of Mirabeau, and the Duchess de Fronsac, daughter-in-law to the
Marshal de Richelieu.
3. A society of young men, who first assembled at Versailles, and
afterwards at an inn at Paris.--(Note by M. de Lafayette.)
TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.
Petersburg, July 17th, 1777.
I am very happy, my dearest love, if the word happiness can truly be
applied to me, whilst I am separated from all I love; there is a vessel
on the point of sailing for France, and I am enabled to tell you, before
setting out for Philadelphia, that I love you, my dearest life, and that
you may be perfectly tranquil respecting my health. I bore the fatigue
of the journey without suffering from it; although the land expedition
was long and wearisome, yet the confinement of my melancholy ship was
far more so. I am now eight days' journey from Philadelphia, in the
beautiful state of Virginia. All fatigue is over, and I fear that my
martial labours will be very light, if it be true that General Howe has
left New York, to go I know not whither. But all the accounts I receive
are so uncertain, that I cannot form any fixed opinion until I reach my
destination; from thence, my love, I shall write you a long letter. You
must already have received four letters from me, if they have not fallen
into the hands of the English. I have received no news of you, and
my impatience to arrive at Philadelphia to hear, from you cannot be
compared to any other earthly feeling. Conceive the state of my mind,
after having passed such an immense length of time without, having
received a line from any friend! I hope all this will soon end, for I
cannot live in such a state of uncertainty. I have undertaken a task
which is, in truth, beyond my power, for my heart was not formed for so
much suffering.
You must have learnt the particulars of the commencement of my journey:
you know that I set out in a brilliant manner in a carriage, and I must
now tell you that we are all on horseback,--having broken the carriage,
according to my usual praiseworthy custom,--and I hope soon to write to
you that we have arrived on foot. The journey is somewhat fatiguing;
but although several of my comrades have suffered a great deal, I have
scarcely myself been conscious of fatigue. The captain who takes charge
of this letter will, perhaps, pay you a visit; I beg you in that case to
receive him with great kindness.
I scarcely dare think of the time of your confinement, and yet I think
of it every moment of the day. I cannot dwell upon it without the most
dreadful anxiety. I am, indeed, unfortunate, at being so distant from
you; even if you did not love me, you ought to pity me; but you do love
me, and we shall mutually render each other happy. This little note will
be short in comparison to the volumes I have already sent you, but you
shall receive another letter in a few days from me.
The farther I advance to the north, the better pleased am I with the
country and inhabitants. There is no attention or kindness that I do not
receive, although many scarcely know who I am. But I will write all this
to you more in detail from Philadelphia. I have only time to intreat
you, my dearest love, not to forget an unhappy man, who pays most dearly
for the error he committed in parting from you, and who never felt
before how tenderly he loved you.
My respectful compliments to Madame d'Ayen, and my affectionate regards
to my sisters. Tell M. de Coigny and M. de Poix that I am in good
health, in case some letters should miscarry which I shall send by
another opportunity, by which I shall also send a line to you, although
I do not consider it so secure as this one.
TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.
July 23rd, 1777.