letters; I have this time only a quarter of an hour to give you. The
vessel is on the point of sailing, and I can only announce to you my
safe arrival at Annapolis, forty leagues from Philadelphia. I can tell
you nothing of the town, for, as I alighted from my horse, I armed
myself with a little weapon dipt in invisible ink. You must already have
received five letters from me, unless King George should have received
some of them. The last one was despatched three days since; in it I
announced to you that my health was perfectly good, and had not been
even impaired by my anxiety to arrive at Philadelphia. I have received
bad news here; Ticonderoga, the strongest American post, has been forced
by the enemy; this is very unfortunate, and we must endeavour to repair
the evil. Our troops have taken, in retaliation, an English general
officer, near New York. I am each day more miserable from having quitted
you, my dearest love; I hope to receive news of you at Philadelphia,
and this hope adds much to the impatience I feel to arrive in that city.
Adieu, my life; I am in such haste that I know not what I write, but I
do know that I love you more tenderly than ever; that the pain of this
separation were necessary to convince me how very dear you are to me,
and that I would give at this moment half my existence for the pleasure
of embracing you again, and telling you with my own lips how well I love
you. My respects to Madame d'Ayen, my compliments to the viscountess, my
sisters, and all my friends: to you only have I time to write. O! if you
knew how much I sigh to see you, how much I suffer at being separated
from you, and all that my heart has been called on to endure, you
would think me somewhat worthy of your love! I have left no space for
Henriette; may I say for my children? Give them a hundred thousand
embraces; I shall most heartily share them with you.
TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.
Philadelphia, September 12th, 1777.
I write you a line, my dearest love, by some French officers, my
friends, who embarked with me, but, not having received any appointment
in the American army, are returning to France. I must begin by telling
you that I am perfectly well, because I must end by telling you that we
fought seriously last night, and that we were not the strongest on the
field of battle. Our Americans, after having stood their ground for
some time, ended at length by being routed: whilst endeavouring to rally
them, the English honoured me with a musket ball, which slightly wounded
me in the leg,--but it is a trifle, my dearest love; the ball touched
neither bone nor nerve, and I have escaped with the obligation of lying
on my back for some time, which puts me much out of humour. I hope that
you will feel no anxiety; this event ought, on the contrary, rather to
reassure you, since I am incapacitated from appearing on the field for
some time: I have resolved to take great care of myself; be convinced
of this, my love. This affair, will, I fear, be attended with bad
consequences for America. We will endeavour, if possible, to repair the
evil. You must have received many letters from me, unless the English be
equally ill-disposed towards my epistles as towards my legs. I have
not yet received one letter, and I am most impatient to hear from you.
Adieu; I am forbidden to write longer. For several days I have not had
time to sleep. Our retreat, and my journey hither, took up the whole of
last night; I am perfectly well taken care of in this place. Tell all my
friends that I am in good health. My tender respects to Madame d'Ayen.
A thousand compliments to the viscountess and my sisters. The officers
will soon set out. They will see you; what pleasure! Good night, my
dearest life! I love you better than ever.
TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.
October 1st, 1777.
I wrote to you, my dearest love, the 12th of September; the twelfth was
the day after the eleventh, and I have a little tale to relate to you
concerning that eleventh day. To render my action more meritorious, I
might tell you that prudent reflections induced me to remain for some
weeks in my bed, safe sheltered from all danger; but I must acknowledge
that I was encouraged to take this measure by a slight wound, which
I met with I know not how, for I did not, in truth, expose myself to
peril. It was the first conflict at which I had been present; so you see
how very rare engagements are. It will be the last of this campaign,
or, in all probability, at least, the last great battle; and if anything
should occur, you see that I could not myself be present.
You may, therefore, my love, feel perfectly secure. I have much pleasure
in thus reassuring you. While I am desiring you not to be alarmed on
my account, I repeat to myself that you love me; and this little
conversation with my own heart is inexpressibly delightful to me, for I
love you more tenderly than I have ever done before.
My first occupation was to write to you the day after that affair: I
told you that it was a mere trifle, and I was right; all I fear is that
you should not have received my letter. As General Howe is giving, in
the meantime, rather pompous details of his American exploits to the
king his master, if he should write word that I am wounded, he may also
write word that I am killed, which would not cost him anything; but I
hope that my friends, and you especially, will not give faith to the
reports of those persons who last year dared to publish that General
Washington, and all the general officers of his army, being in a boat
together, had been upset, and every individual drowned. But let us speak
about the wound: it is only a flesh-wound, and has neither touched bone
nor nerve. The surgeons are astonished at the rapidity with which
it heals; they are in an ecstasy of joy each time they dress it, and
pretend it is the finest thing in the world: for my part, I think it
most disagreeable, painful, and wearisome; but tastes often differ: if
a man, however, wished to be wounded for his amusement only, he should
come and examine how I have been struck, that he might be struck
precisely in the same manner. This, my dearest love, is what I pompously
style my wound, to give myself airs, and render myself interesting.
I must now give you your lesson, as wife of an American general officer.
They will say to you, "They have been beaten:" you must answer,--"That
is true; but when two armies of _equal number_ meet in the field, old
soldiers have naturally the advantage over new ones; they have, besides,
had the pleasure of killing a great many of the enemy, many more than
they have lost." They will afterwards add: "All that is very well; but
Philadelphia is taken, the capital of America, the rampart of liberty!"
You must politely answer, "You are all great fools! Philadelphia is
a poor forlorn town, exposed on every side, whose harbour was already
closed; though the residence of congress lent it, I know not why, some
degree of celebrity. This is the famous city which, be it added, we
will, sooner or later, make them yield back to us." If they continue to
persecute you with questions, you may send them about their business in
terms which the Viscount de Noailles will teach you, for I cannot lose
time by talking to you of politics.
I have delayed writing your letter till the last, in the hope of
receiving one from you, answering it, and giving you the latest
intelligence of my health; but I am told, if I do not send immediately
to congress, twenty-five leagues from hence, my captain will have set
out, and I shall lose the opportunity of writing to you. This is the
cause of my scrawl being more unintelligible than usual; however, if I
were to send you anything but a hurried scrawl, I ought, in that case,
to beg your pardon, from the singularity of the case. Recollect, my
dearest love, that I have only once heard of you, from Count Pulaski. I
am much provoked, and am very miserable. Imagine how dreadful it is to
be far from all I love, in this state of suspense and almost despair; it
is impossible to support it; and I feel, at the same time, that I do not
deserve to be pitied. Why was I so obstinately bent on coming hither ?
I have been well punished for my error; my affections are too strongly
rooted for me to be able to perform such deeds. I hope you pity me;
if you knew all I suffer, especially at this moment, when everything
concerning you is so deeply interesting! I cannot, without shuddering,
think of this. I am told that a parcel has arrived from France; I have
despatched expresses on every road and in every corner; I have sent an
officer to congress; I am expecting him every day, and you may conceive
with what feelings of intense anxiety. My surgeon is also very anxious
for his arrival, for this suspense keeps my blood in a state of
effervescence, and he would fain require that it should flow calmly. O,
my dearest life, if I receive good news from you, and all I love,--if
those delightful letters arrive to-day, how happy I shall be!--but with
what agitation, also, I shall open them!
Be perfectly at ease about my wound; all the faculty in America are
engaged in my service. I have a friend, who has spoken to them in such
a manner that I am certain of being well attended to; that friend is
General Washington. This excellent man, whose talents and virtues I
admired, and whom I have learnt to revere as I know him better, has now
become my intimate friend: his affectionate interest in me instantly won
my heart. I am established in his house, and we live together like
two attached brothers, with mutual confidence and cordiality. This
friendship renders me as happy as I can possibly be in this country.
When he sent his best surgeon to me, he told him to take charge of me as
if I were his son, because he loved me with the same affection. Having
heard that I wished to rejoin the army too soon, he wrote me a letter
full of tenderness, in which he requested me to attend to the perfect
restoration of my health. I give you these details, my dearest love,
that you may feel quite certain of the care that is taken of me. Amongst
the French officers, who have all expressed the warmest interest for me,
M. de Gimat, my aide-de-camp, has followed me about like my shadow, both
before and since the battle, and has given me every possible proof of
attachment. You may thus feel quite secure on this account, both for the
present and for the future.
All the foreigners who are in the army,--for I do not speak only of
those who have not been employed, and who, on their return to
France, will naturally give an unjust account of America, because the
discontented, anxious to revenge their fancied injuries, cannot be
impartial,--all the foreigners, I say, who have been employed here are
dissatisfied, complain, detest others, and are themselves detested: they
do not understand why I am the only stranger beloved in America, and
I cannot understand why they are so much hated. In the midst of the
disputes and dissensions common to all armies, especially when there
are officers of various nations, I, for my part, who am an easy and a
good-tempered man, am so fortunate as to be loved by all parties,
both foreigners and Americans: I love them all--I hope I deserve their
esteem; and we are perfectly satisfied the one with the other. I am
at present in the solitude of Bethlehem, which the Abbé Raynal has
described so minutely. This establishment is a very interesting one; the
fraternity lead an agreeable and a very tranquil life: we will talk over
all this on my return; and I intend to weary those I love, yourself, of
course, in the first place, by the relation of my adventures, for you
know that I was always a great prattler. You must become a prattler
also, my love, and say many things for me to Henriette--my poor little
Henriette! embrace her a thousand times--talk of me to her, but do
not tell her all I deserve to suffer; my punishment will be, not to
be recognised by her on my arrival; that is the penance Henriette
will impose on me. Has she a brother or a sister?--the choice is quite
indifferent to me, provided I have a second time the pleasure of being a
father, and that I may soon learn that circumstance. If I should have
a son, I will tell him to examine his own heart carefully; and if that
heart should be a tender one, if he should have a wife whom he loves as
I love you, in that case I shall advise him not to give way to
feelings of enthusiasm, which would separate him from the object of his
affection, for that affection will afterwards give rise to a thousand
dreadful fears.
I am writing, by a different opportunity, to various persons, and also
to yourself. I think this letter will arrive first; if this vessel
should accidentally arrive, and the other one be lost, I have given
the viscount a list of the letters I have addressed to him. I forgot to
mention my aunts;~[1] give them news of me as soon as this reaches you.
I have made no _duplicata_ for you, because I write to you by every
opportunity. Give news of me, also, to M. Margelay,~[2] the Abbe Fayon,
and Desplaces.
A thousand tender regards to my sisters; I permit them to despise me as
an infamous deserter--but they must also love me at the same time. My
respects to Madame la Comtesse Auguste, and Madame de Fronsac. If my
grandfather's letters should not reach him, present to him my respectful
and affectionate regards. Adieu, adieu, my dearest life; continue to
love me, for I love you most tenderly.
Present my compliments to Dr. Franklin and Mr. Deane; I wished to write
to them, but cannot find time.
Footnotes:
1. Madame de Chavaniac and Madame de Motier, sisters of General
Lafayette's father.
2. An ancient officer, to whom M. de Lafayette was confided, on leaving
college, as to a governor.
TO M. DE VERGENNES,
MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS.
Whitemarsh Camp, October 24, 1777.
SIR,--You were formerly annoyed, much against my wish, by the part you
were called upon to take in my first projects; you will, perhaps, also
feel annoyed by the attention I take the liberty of requesting you to
give to the objects I have at present in view. They may appear to you as
little worthy as the first of occupying your valuable time; but in this
case, as in the previous one, my good intentions (even should they be
ill-directed) may serve as my apology. My age might also, perhaps, have
been one, formerly; I only request now that it may not prevent you from
taking into consideration whether my opinions be rational.
I do not permit myself to examine what succour the glorious cause we are
defending in America may have received; but my love for my own country
makes me observe, with pleasure, under how many points of view the
vexations of the family of England may be advantageous to her. There is,
above all, one project which, in every case, and _at all events_, would
present, I think, rational hopes of attaining any useful end, in exact
proportion to the means employed in its execution; I allude to an
expedition of greater or less importance against the East Indies; and
I should fear to injure the cause by proposing myself to take charge of
it.
Without pretending to the art of prophecy in relation to present events,
but convinced in the sincerity of my heart that to injure England would
be serving (shall I say revenging?) my country, I believe that this
idea would powerfully excite the energy of each individual bearing the
honourable name of Frenchman. I came hither without permission; I have
obtained no approbation but that which may be implied by silence;
I might also undertake another little voyage without having been
authorized by government: if the success be uncertain, I should have
the advantage of exposing only myself to danger,--and what should,
therefore, prevent my being enterprising? If I could but succeed in the
slightest degree, a flame kindled on the least important establishment
of England, even if part of my own fortune were to be consumed also,
would satisfy my heart by awakening hopes for a more propitious hour.
Guided by the slight knowledge which my ignorance has been able to
obtain, I shall now state in what manner, Sir, I would undertake this
enterprise. An American patent, to render my movements regular, the
trifling succours by which it might be sustained, the assistance I might
obtain at the French islands, the speculations of some merchants, the
voluntary aid of a few of my fellow comrades,--such are the feeble
resources which would enable me to land peacefully on the Isle of
France. I should there find, I believe, privateers ready to assist me,
and men to accompany me in sufficient numbers to lie in wait for the
vessels returning from China, which would offer me a fresh supply of
force, sufficient perhaps to enable me to fall upon one or two of their
factories, and destroy them before they could be protected. With an aid,
which I dare scarcely hope would be granted me, and, above all,
with talents which I am far from having yet acquired, might not some
advantage be taken of the jealousy of the different nabobs, the hatred
of the Mahrattas, the venality of the sepoys, and the effeminacy of the
English? Might not the crowd of Frenchmen dispersed at present on that
coast be employed with advantage in the cause? As to myself personally,
in any case, the fear of compromising my own country would prevent my
acknowledging the pride I feel in being her son, even as the nobility
in some provinces occasionally lay aside their marks of distinction to
reassume them at a later period.
Although by no means blind as to the imprudence of the step, I would
have hazarded this enterprise alone, if the fear of injuring the
interests I wish to serve, by not sufficiently understanding them, or
of proving a detriment to some better-concerted expedition, had not
arrested my intended movements; for I have the vanity to believe that a
project of this kind may one day be executed on a grander scale, and by
far abler hands, than mine. Even now it might be executed in a manner
that would, I think, insure success, if I could hope to receive from the
government, not an order, not succours, not mere indifference,--but
I know scarcely what, which I can find no language to express with
sufficient delicacy.
In this case, an order from the king, should he deign to restore me
for some time to my friends and family, without prohibiting my return
hither, would give me a hint to prepare myself with American continental
commissions; some preparations and instructions from France might also
precede that pretended return, and conduct me straight to the East
Indies: the silence which was formerly perhaps an error, would then
become a sacred duty, and would serve to conceal my true destination,
and above all the sort of approbation it might receive.
Such, Sir, are the ideas that, duly impressed with a sense of my
incapacity and youth, I presume to submit to your better judgment, and,
if you should think favourably of them, to the various modifications to
which you may conceive them liable; I am certain, at least, that they
cannot be deemed ridiculous, because they are inspired by a laudable
motive--the love of my country. I only ask for the honour of serving her
under other colours, and I rejoice at seeing her interest united to that
of the republicans for whom I am combating; earnestly hoping, however,
that I shall soon be allowed to fight under the French banner. A
commission of grenadier in the king's army would, in that case, be more
agreeable to me than the highest rank in a foreign army.
I reproach myself too much, Sir, for thus offering you my undigested
ideas regarding Asia, to heighten my offence by presumptuously tracing
a plan of America, embellished with my own reflections, which you do
not require, and have not asked for: the zeal which led me hither, and,
above all, the friendship which unites me to the general-in-chief, would
render me liable to the accusation of partiality, from which feeling I
flatter myself I am wholly free. I reserve till my return the honour of
mentioning to you the names of those officers of merit whom the love of
their profession has led to this continent. All those who are French,
Sir, have a right to feel confidence in you. It is on this ground that
I claim your indulgence; I have a second claim upon it from the respect
with which I have the honour to be, Sir,
Your very humble and obedient servant,
LAFAYETTE.
If this letter should weary you, Sir, the manner in which it will reach
you may be deemed perhaps but too secure. I entrust it to M. de Valfort,
captain of the regiment of Aunis, with the commission of colonel in our
islands, whom his talents, reputation, and researches, have rendered
useful in this country, and whom the wishes of General Washington
would have detained here, if his health had not rendered it absolutely
necessary for him to return to France. I shall here await your orders,
(which cannot, without difficulty, enter an American harbour,) or I
shall go myself to receive them, as future circumstances may render
proper; for, since my arrival, I have not received one order which could
regulate my movements.
TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.
The Camp near Whitemarsh, Oct. 29th, 1777.
I send you an open letter, my dearest love, in the person of M. de
Valfort, my friend, whom I entreat you to receive as such. He will tell
you at length everything concerning me; but I must tell you myself how
well I love you. I have too much pleasure in experiencing this sentiment
not to have also pleasure in repeating it to you a thousand times, if
that were possible. I have no resource left me, my love, but to write
and write again, without even hoping that my letters will ever reach
you, and I endeavour to console myself, by the pleasure of conversing
with you, for the disappointment and anguish of not receiving one single
line from France. It is impossible to describe to you how completely my
heart is torn by anxiety and fear; nor should I wish to express all I
feel, even if it were in my power to do so; for I would not disturb,
by any painful impressions, the happiest moments of my exile--those in
which I can speak to you of my tenderness. But do you, at least, pity
me? Do you comprehend all that I endure? If I could only know at this
moment where you are, and what you are doing! but in the course of time
I shall learn all this, for I am not separated from you in reality, as
if I were dead. I am expecting your letters with an impatience, from
which nothing can for an instant divert my thoughts: every one tells
me they must soon arrive; but can I rely on this? Neglect not one
opportunity of writing to me, if my happiness be still dear to you.
Repeat to me that you love me: the less I merit your affection, the
more necessary to me are your consoling assurances of it. You must have
received so many accounts of my slight wound, that all repetitions on
the subject would be useless; and if you ever believed it was anything
serious, M. de Valfort can undeceive you. In a very short time I shall
not even be lame.
Is it not dreadful, my love, to reflect that it is by the public,
by English papers, by our enemy's gazettes, that I should receive
intelligence concerning you? In an unimportant article relating to my
arrival here, they ended by speaking of yourself, your situation, and
approaching confinement; that source of all my fears, agitations, hopes,
and joy. How happy I should feel if I could learn that I had become a
second time a father, that you are in good health, that my two children
and their mother are likely to constitute the felicity of my future
life! This country is delightful for the growth of filial and paternal
love: these feelings may even be termed passions, and give rise to the
most assiduous and unremitting care. The news of your confinement will
be received with joy by the whole army, and above all by its commander.