she will deliver a long sermon of reproof, and that she will speak to me
with all the frankness of friendship; for my daughter will be always,
I trust, my most intimate friend; I will only be a father in affection,
and paternal love shall unite in my heart with friendship. Embrace her,
my love,--may I say embrace _them?_--for me! But I will not dwell upon
all I suffer from this painful uncertainty. I know that you share all
the sorrows of my heart, and I will not afflict you. I wrote by the
last opportunity to Madame d'Ayen; since my wound I have written to
everybody; but those letters have perhaps been lost. It is not my fault;
I wish to return a little evil to those wicked letter-stealers when they
are on land, but on the sea I have only the consolation of the weak,
that of cursing heartily those of whom I cannot be revenged. A thousand
tender respects to your mother; my kind regards to your sisters. Do not
forget my compliments to the Marshal de Noailles, and to your paternal
and maternal relations. I have received four foolish lines from the
Marshal de Mouchy, who does not say one word of you; I swore at him
in every language. Adieu, my love, adieu; ask questions of my good,
excellent friend, M. de Valfort, for my paper is coming to a close. It
is dreadful to be reduced to hold no communication but by letter with a
person whom one loves as I love you, and as I shall ever love you, until
I draw my latest breath.
I have not missed a single opportunity, not even the most indirect one,
without writing to you. Do the same also on your side, my dearest life,
if you love me; but I should indeed be unfeeling and ungrateful if I
were to doubt your love.
TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.
Camp of Whitemarsh, November 6th, 1777.
You will perhaps receive this letter, my dearest love, at the expiration
of five or six years, for I am writing to you by an accidental
opportunity, in which I do not place great trust. See what a circuit
my letter must make. An officer in the army will carry it to Fort Pitt,
three hundred miles in the interior of the continent; it will then
embark on the great Ohio river, and traverse regions inhabited only by
savages; having reached New Orleans, a small vessel will transport it to
the Spanish islands; a ship of that nation--God knows when!--will carry
it with her on her return to Europe. But it will even then be very
distant from you; and it is only after having been soiled by the dirty
hands of all the Spanish post-masters that it will be allowed to pass
the Pyrenees. It may very possibly be unsealed and resealed five or six
times before it be finally placed in your hands; but it will prove to
you that I neglect no opportunity, not even the most indirect one, of
sending you news of myself, and of repeating how well I love you. It is,
however, for my own satisfaction only that I delight to tell you so at
present; I hope that I shall have the pleasure of throwing this letter
in the fire when it arrives, for be it understood I shall be there also,
and my presence will render this piece of paper very insignificant. The
idea is most soothing to my heart, and I indulge it with rapture. How
enchanting to think of the moments when we shall be together! but how
painful also to recollect that my joy is only caused by an illusion,
and that I am separated from the reality of my happiness by two thousand
leagues, an immense ocean, and villanous English vessels! Those wretched
vessels make me very unhappy. One letter, one letter only, have I yet
received from you, my love; the others have been lost or taken, and are
probably at the bottom of the sea. I must consider our enemy the cause
of this dreadful loss; for I am certain you do not neglect to write to
me from every port, and by all the despatches sent by Dr. Franklin and
Mr. Deane. And yet some ships arrived; I have sent couriers to every
corner of the continent; but all my hopes have been frustrated. Perhaps
you have not been properly informed. I entreat you, my love, to inquire
carefully in what manner you may best send your letters. It is so
dreadful for me to be deprived of them, and I am so unhappy at being
separated from all I love! I am guilty, it is true, of having caused
my own calamity; but you would pity me if you knew all that my heart
endured.
But why tell you news in a letter destined to travel about the world
for years, which will reach you perhaps in shreds, and will represent
antiquity personified? My other despatches must have informed you of
the various events of the campaign. The battle of Brandywine, in which
I most skilfully lost a small part of my leg; the taking possession of
Philadelphia, which will by no means, however, be attended with the ill
consequences which have been expected in Europe; the attack of a post
at Germantown, at which I was not present, from having received a recent
wound, and which did not prove successful; the surrender of General
Burgoyne, with five thousand men--that same Burgoyne who wished to
devour us all, last spring, but who finds himself this autumn the
prisoner of war of our northern army; and finally, our present
situation, stationed immediately opposite each other, at four leagues
distance, and General Howe established at Philadelphia, making great
exertion to take certain forts, and having already lost in the attempt
one large and one small vessel. You are now quite as well informed on
the subject as if you were general-in-chief of either army. I need only
at this moment add, that the wound of the 11th of September, of which
I have spoken to you a thousand times, is almost completely healed,
although I am still a little lame, but that in a few days there will
scarcely remain any traces of this accident. All these details will be
given you very circumstantially by my friend Mr. de Valfort, to whom I
have given a letter for you, and on whose accounts you may implicitly
rely. I have just learnt that he has sailed, not, as I expected, in a
packet, but in a good frigate of thirty-five guns: it would be unlucky
indeed if he were taken. From his lips, and the epistle which I confided
to him five or six days ago, you will learn all that your affection for
me may make you wish to know. I wish you also knew the precise day of my
return, and I am most impatient to fix that day myself, and to be able
to say to you, in the joy of my heart,--upon such a day I set out to
rejoin you, and obtain all earthly happiness.
A little gentleman, in a blue coat, with lemon-coloured facings and
a white waistcoat, a German, coming hither to solicit an employment,
(which he will not obtain,) and speaking wretched French, told me that
he quitted Europe in the month of August: he talked to me of politics
and of the ministry; he upset all Europe generally, and every court
individually; but he knew not a word of what was most interesting to my
heart. I examined him in every way; I mentioned fifty names to him; his
answer was always, _"Me not know them noblemen_."
I will not weary you with a long account of the state of my finances.
The accident which occurred to my vessel was a source of vexation to
me, because that vessel would have been useful to me in the present
settlement of my affairs; but it is no longer in being, and I should
reproach myself with having sent it back, had I not been obliged to make
its return a clause in my engagements, on account of my minority.~[1]
Everything here is incredibly dear. We feel the consolation of
the malevolent in thinking that the scarcity is still greater in
Philadelphia. In time of war, we become reconciled to all we may
ourselves endure by making our enemies suffer ten times more. We have
here an abundance of provisions, and we learn with pleasure that our
English neighbours are not so fortunate.
Do not think at present of being uneasy on my account; all the hard
blows are over, and there can be, at most, but some little miniature
strokes, which cannot concern me; I am not less secure in this camp than
I should be were I in the centre of Paris. If every possible advantage
to be attained by serving here; if the friendship of the army in gross
and in detail; if a tender union with the most respectable and admirable
of men, General Washington, sustained by mutual confidence; if the
affection of those Americans by whom I wish to be beloved; if all this
were sufficient to constitute my happiness, I should indeed have
nothing to desire. But my heart is far from being tranquil. You would
compassionate me, if you knew how much that heart suffers, and how well
it loves you!
The present season of the year makes me hope to receive some letters.
What may they announce to me? what may I hope? O, my dearest love, how
cruel it is to endure this painful anxiety, under circumstances which
are so all-important to my happiness! Have I two children? have I
another infant to share my tender affection with my dearest Henriette?
Embrace my dear little girl a thousand times for me; embrace them both
tenderly, my dearest life. I trust they will know one day how well I
love them.
A thousand respectful compliments to Madame d'Ayen; a thousand tender
ones to the viscountess and my sisters; to my friends a million of kind
regards; remember me to every one. Adieu! take care of your own health;
give me circumstantial details of all things; believe that I love you
more than ever, that you are the first object of my affection, and the
surest guarantee of my felicity. The sentiments so deeply engraven on
a heart which belongs to you alone, shall remain, whilst that heart
continues to vibrate. Will you, too, always love me, my dearest life? I
dare believe it, and that we shall mutually render each other happy by
an affection equally tender and eternal. Adieu, adieu! how delightful
would it be to embrace you at this moment, and say to you with my own
lips, I love thee better than I have ever loved, and I shall love thee
for the remainder of my life.
Footnotes:
1. It will be seen by the memoirs that that vessel was wrecked on the
bar of Charlestown.
TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.~[1]
(ORIGINAL.)
Haddonfield, the 26th November, 1777.
Dear General,--I went down to this place since the day before yesterday,
in order to be acquainted of all the roads and grounds around the enemy.
I heard at my arrival that their main body was between Great and
Little Timber Creek since the same evening. Yesterday morning, in
reconnoitering about, I have been told that they were very busy in
crossing the Delaware. I saw them myself in their boats, and sent that
intelligence to General Greene as soon as possible, as every other thing
I heard of. But I want to acquaint your excellency of a little event
of last evening, which, though not very considerable in itself, will
certainly please you, on account of the bravery and alacrity a small
party of ours shewed on that occasion. After having spent the most part
of the day to make myself well acquainted with the certainty of their
motions, I came pretty late into the Gloucester road, between the two
creeks. I had ten light-horse with Mr. Lindsey, almost a hundred and
fifty riflemen, under Colonel Buttler, and two piquets of the militia,
commanded by Colonels Hite and Ellis: my whole body was not three
hundred. Colonel Armand, Colonel Laumoy, the chevaliers Duplessis and
Gimat, were the Frenchmen who went with me. A scout of my men, with
whom was Mr. Duplessis, to see how near were the first piquets from
Gloucester, found at two miles and a half of it a strong post of three
hundred and fifty Hessians with field-pieces, (what number I did
know, by the unanimous deposition of their prisoners,) and engaged
immediately. As my little reconnoitering party was all in fine spirits,
I supported them. We pushed the Hessians more than an half mile from the
place where was their main body, and we made them run very fast: British
reinforcements came twice to them, but, very far from recovering their
ground, they went always back. The darkness of the night prevented us
then to push that advantage, and, after standing upon the ground we
had got, I ordered them to return very slow to Haddonfield. The enemy,
knowing perhaps by our drums that we were not so near, came again to
fire at us; but the brave Major Moriss, with a part of his riflemen,
sent them back, and pushed them very fast. I understand that they have
had between twenty-five and thirty wounded, at least that number killed,
among whom I am certain, is an officer; some say more, and the prisoners
told me they have lost the commandant of that body; we got yet, this
day, fourteen prisoners. I sent you the most moderate account I had from
themselves. We left one single man killed, a lieutenant of militia,
and only five of ours were wounded. Such is the account of our little
entertainment, which is indeed much too long for the matter, but I take
the greatest pleasure to let you know that the conduct of our soldiers
is above all praises: I never saw men so merry, so spirited, so desirous
to go on to the enemy, whatever forces they could have, as that small
party was in this little fight. I found the riflemen above even their
reputation, and the militia above all expectations I could have: I
returned to them my very sincere thanks this morning. I wish that this
little success of ours may please you, though a very trifling one, I
find it very interesting on account of the behaviour of our soldiers.
Some time after I came back, General Varnum arrived here; General Greene
is, too, in this place since this morning; he engaged me to give you
myself the account of the little advantage of that small part of the
troops under his command. I have nothing more to say to your excellency
about our business on this side, because he is writing himself: I should
have been very glad, if circumstances had permitted me, to be useful
to him upon a greater scale. As he is obliged to march slow in order to
attend his troops, and as I am here only a volunteer, I will have the
honour to wait upon your excellency as soon as possible, and I'll set
out to-day: it will be a great pleasure for me to find myself again with
you.
With the most tender affection and highest respect I have the honour to
be,
LAFAYETTE.
I must tell, too, that the riflemen had been the whole day running
before my horse, without eating or taking any rest.
I have just now a certain assurance that two British officers, besides
those I spoke you of, have died this morning of their wounds in an
house; this, and some other circumstances, let me believe that their
lost may be greater than I told to your excellency.
Footnotes:
1. All the letters addressed to General Washington, as well as to
other Americans, were written in English. Since the death of General
Washington, his family have returned to General Lafayette the original
letters he had addressed to him, and these are now in our possession.
The originals of Washington's letters were almost all lost in the French
revolution; but M. de Lafayette, during his last journey to the United
States, had a great number of them copied from minutes preserved by
Washington himself: they have been inserted in the collection we have so
frequently quoted from, published by Mr. Sparks.
TO THE DUKE D'AYEN.
Camp Gulph, Pennsylvania, Dec. 16th, 1777.
This letter, if it ever reaches you, will find you at least in France;
some hazards are averted by this circumstance, but I must not indulge in
many hopes. I never write a letter for Europe without deploring before
hand the fate most probably awaiting it, and I labour, undoubtedly, more
for Lord Howe than for any of my friends. The bad season is fortunately
drawing near; the English ships will be obliged to quit their confounded
cruising stations; I may then receive letters, and forward them from
hence with some degree of security; this will make me very happy, and
will prevent my wearying you by a repetition of events which I wish you
to be acquainted with, but which I do not wish to remind you of each
time I write. I am very anxious for the account of your journey. I
depend principally on Madame de Lafayette for its details; she well
knows how interesting they will be to me. The Marshall de Noailles tells
me, in general terms, that the letters he receives from Italy assure him
the travellers are all in good health. From him I have also learnt the
confinement of Madame Lafayette; he does not speak of it as if it were
the happiest of all possible circumstances; but my anxiety was too keen
to be able to make any distinction of sex; and by kindly writing to me,
and giving me an account of the event, he rendered me far, far
happier than he imagined, when he announced to me that I had only a
daughter.~[1] The Rue de St. Honoré has now for ever lost its credit,
whilst the other Hotel de Noailles has acquired new lustre by the birth
of Adrian.~[2] It is truly an ill-proceeding on my part to throw that
disgrace on a family from whom I have received so much kindness. You
must now be freezing on the high roads of France; those of Pennsylvania
are also very cold, and I endeavour vainly to persuade myself that
the difference of latitude betwixt this and Paris ought to give us,
comparatively speaking, a delightful winter: I am even told that it will
be more severe. We are destined to pass it in huts, twenty miles from
Philadelphia, that we may protect the country, be enabled to take
advantage of every favourable opportunity, and also have the power of
instructing the troops by keeping them together. It would, perhaps,
have been better to have entered quietly into real winter quarters;
but political reasons induced General Washington to adopt this half-way
measure.
I wish I had sufficient skill to give you a satisfactory account of
the military events passing in this country; but, in addition to my own
incapacity, reasons, of which you will understand the weight, prevent
my hazarding in a letter, exposed to the capture of the English fleet,
a relation which might explain many things, if I had the happiness of
conversing with you in person. I will, however, endeavour to repeat to
you, once more, the most important events that have occurred during this
campaign. My gazette, which will be more valuable from not containing my
own remarks, must be preferable to the gazettes of Europe; because
the man who sees with his own eyes, even if he should not see quite
correctly, must always merit more attention than the man who has seen
nothing. As to the gazettes which the English shower upon us, they
appear to me only fit to amuse chairmen over their mugs of ale; and even
these men must have indulged in liberal potations, not to perceive the
falsehoods they contain. It seems to me that the project of the English
ministry was to cut in a line that part of America which extends from
the bay of Chesapeak to Ticonderoga. General Howe was ordered to repair
to Philadelphia by the Elk river; Burgoyne to descend to Albany, and
Clinton to ascend from New York by the North river: the three generals
might in this manner have joined hands; they would have received, or
pretended to receive, the submission of the alleged conquered provinces;
we should only have retained for our winter quarters the interior of the
country, and have depended solely for our resources on the four southern
states. An attack on Charlestown may also, perhaps, have been intended:
in the opinion of the cabinet of the King of England, America was thus
almost conquered. Providence fortunately permitted some alterations
to take place in the execution of this finely-conceived project--to
exercise, probably, for some time, the constancy of the British nation.
When I arrived at the army, in the month of August, I was much
astonished at not finding any enemies. After having made some marches
into Jersey, where nothing occurred, General Howe embarked at New York.
We were encamped, and expecting their descent, on the Chester side,
when we learnt that they were at the mouth of the Elk river. General
Washington marched to meet them, and after having taken up several
stations, resolved to wait their arrival upon some excellent heights
on the Brandywine stream. The 11th of September the English marched
to attack us; but whilst they were amusing us with their cannon, and
several movements in front, they suddenly detached the greater part of
their troops, the choicest men of their army, with the grenadiers, under
the command of General Howe, and Lord Cornwallis, to pass a ford four
miles distant on our right. As soon as General Washington became aware
of this movement, he detached his whole right wing to march towards
them. Some unfounded reports, which had all the appearance of truth, and
which contradicted the first accounts received, arrested for a length
of time the progress of that wing, and when it arrived, the enemy had
already crossed the ford. Thus it became necessary to engage in an open
field with an army superior in numbers to our own. After having for some
time sustained a very brisk fire, though many were killed on the side of
the English, the Americans were obliged to give way. A portion of them
was rallied and brought back: it was then that I received my wound. In
a word, to cut the matter short, everything went on badly on both sides,
and General Washington was defeated--because he could not gain the
first general battle which had been fought during the war. The army
reassembled at Chester; but having been carried to a distance from it, I
have not been able to follow its different movements. General Howe took
advantage of the disorder which a tremendous rain had occasioned in
our army to pass the Schuylkill; he repaired to Philadelphia, to
take possession of it, and stationed himself between that town and
Germantown. General Washington attacked him on the 4th of October;
and we may assert that our general beat theirs, although their troops
defeated ours, since he surprised him, and even drove back the English
for some time; but their experience proved again triumphant over our
unpractised officers and soldiers. Some time before this event, an
American brigadier, placed in detachment on the other side of the river,
had been attacked at night in his camp, and had lost some of his men.
These are the only important events which took place on our side during
the six weeks that I was absent from the camp, whilst obliged to keep
my bed from my unclosed wound: at that time we received good news of
General Burgoyne. When I first rejoined the army, whilst General Howe
was on the water, I learnt that Ticonderoga had been precipitately
abandoned by the Americans, leaving there several cannons and a quantity
of ammunition. This success inflamed the pride of General Burgoyne,
and he issued a pompous proclamation, for which he has since paid very
dearly. His first act was to send a detachment, which was repulsed; he
was not, however, discouraged, but marched on, through immense forests,
in a country which contained but a single road. General Gates had under
his orders fifteen or sixteen thousand men, who distressed the enemy by
firing upon them from behind the trees. Whether conqueror or conquered,
General Burgoyne's force became gradually weakened, and every quarter
of a league cost him many men. At length, surrounded on all sides, and
perishing with hunger, he was obliged to enter into a convention, in
virtue of which he was conducted by the New England militia into that
same state of Massachusets in which it had been asserted in London he
was to take up his winter quarters. From thence he is to be conveyed,
with whatever troops he may have remaining, to England, at the expense
of the king his master. Ticonderoga has been since evacuated by the
English.
General Clinton, who had set out rather late from New York, after having
taken and destroyed Fort Montgomery, on the north river, endeavoured to
reach the rear of Gates; but, hearing of the convention, he returned on
the same road by which he had advanced. If he had been more rapid in his
march, the affairs of General Gates would not have ended so fortunately.