the lasting advantage of America to continue!
The letters of Lafayette grew more and more homesick and Adrienne's
feelings were like a harp with its strings attuned to respond to his
every emotion.
From Petersburg, Va., on July 17, 1777, he writes:
"I have received no news of you, and my impatience to hear from you
cannot be compared to any other earthly feeling. . . . You must have
learned 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 after my usual
praiseworthy custom, and I hope soon to write you that we have arrived
at Philadelphia on foot! . . ."
A few days later he says:
"I am each day more miserable, from having quitted you, my dearest
love. . . . I would give at this moment half of my existence for the
pleasure of embracing you again, and telling you with my own lips how I
love you. . . . Oh, if you knew how I sigh to see you, how 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."
Poor, lonely, young couple--each was suffering in a different way from
the separation, but Adrienne's misery was the hardest to bear, for not
only had she lost the little daughter who had been her greatest comfort
since the departure of her husband for America, but she now had a shock,
for in her husband's letter of the 12th of September, after the battle
of Brandywine, he wrote:
"Our Americans after having stood their ground for some time ended at
last 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, 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 good care of myself, be convinced of
this, my dearest love."
Notwithstanding the cheerful tenor of this letter, Adrienne was not able
to eat or sleep after its arrival, until in a second letter he again
assured her of the slightness of his injury, and added:
"I must now give you your lesson as the 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 numbers meet in the
field, old soldiers have naturally the advantage over new ones. They
have had besides, the pleasure of killing a great many of the enemy;
many more than they have lost.' They will afterward say, '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 is already closed, although the residence of Congress lent
it some degree of celebrity. This is the famous city which, it may be
added, we will soon make them yield to us! If they continue to
persecute you with questions you may send them about their business in
terms which the Vicomte de Noailles will teach you, for I cannot lose
time in talking to my friends of politics."
Thrilling indeed were those days of 1777 after the battle of Brandywine,
for the Americans struggling so valiantly for the liberty they were so
determined to secure, and valiant was young Lafayette in upholding that
Cause which he had so bravely espoused. A letter from General Greene to
General Washington in which he speaks glowingly about the young
Frenchman would have filled Adrienne's heart to overflowing with pride,
could she but have read it, for it was full of descriptions of her
husband's bravery even before he had recovered from the wound received
at the battle of Brandywine, and General Greene adds:
"The Marquis Lafayette is determined to be in the way of danger." But
Lafayette's own account of his doings, both to General Washington, with
whom he was on the most intimate and affectionate terms, and to his
wife, were always most modest and self-depreciatory. But because of
Lafayette's illustrious connections, the loyalty he showed for the cause
of American liberty, and also because of the marked discretion and good
sense he had shown on several critical occasions, Washington recommended
to Congress that the young Frenchman receive command of a division in
the Continental army, which suggestion was carried out on the 27th of
November, 1777, and of course Lafayette's ardour for the Cause he was
supporting flamed higher than before, on receiving this honour.
Soon, in accordance with General Washington's plan, it was decided that
the American army was to encamp for the winter at Valley Forge, and of
the dreary march there, uncheered by any great triumph, and when most of
the soldiers were suffering from both cold and hunger, and the still
drearier arrival and terrible subsequent privations and hardships, the
pages of history have made us too well acquainted to need to dwell on
them here.
During that hard winter, there were those in command who were jealous of
the intimacy between Washington and the young Marquis who attempted to
break it up by offering Lafayette the command of an expedition into
Canada, which it was thought his military ambition would tempt him to
accept. It did, and in consequence he hastened to the headquarters of
General Gates at Yorktown to receive further orders, where he found the
General dining, surrounded by such evidences of luxury and high living
as were never seen at Valley Forge, and when he proposed the toast, "The
Commander-in-chief of the American Armies," to his surprise the toast
was received without a cheer, which was his first intimation that there
was any feeling in the American ranks hostile in the slightest degree to
General Washington.
Almost at once he set out to undertake the commission given him, and not
until it had proved a disastrous failure did he discover that it had
been given without the sanction or even the knowledge of Washington. He
wrote a letter of profound regret and humiliation to his
Commander-in-chief, laying the whole matter before him, saying that he
felt utterly distressed about the matter, to which Washington replied in
a fatherly and calm letter, assuring the young Marquis of his continued
esteem, and gladly then Lafayette hastened back to Valley Forge, to
again enjoy the companionship of his Commander-in-chief, to be inspired
by his fatherly counsel.
But of what Lafayette was exposed to, of privation or of struggle, at
that time Adrienne knew little, for he always wrote cheerfully to her,
dwelling at length on any bit of brightness of which he could speak.
After having returned to Valley Forge he writes:
"My presence is more necessary to the American cause than you can
possibly conceive. Many foreigners have endeavoured by every sort of
artifice to make me discontented with this revolution and with him who
is their chief. They have spread as loudly as they could the report that
I was quitting the Continent. The English have proclaimed also loudly
the same intention on my side. I cannot in justice appear to justify the
malice of these people. If I were to depart many Frenchmen who are
useful here would follow my example. General Washington would feel very
unhappy if I were to speak of quitting him. His confidence in me is
greater than I dare acknowledge, on account of my youth. In the place he
occupies he is likely to be surrounded by flatterers or by secret
enemies, he finds in me a sincere friend in whose bosom he may always
confide his secret thoughts and who will always speak the truth. . . ."
Again he says, "Several general officers have brought their wives to the
camp. I envy them--not their wives--the happiness they enjoy in being
able to see them. General Washington has also resolved to send for his
wife. As to the English, they have received a re-inforcement of three
hundred young ladies from New York!" Then with boyish simplicity he
adds, "Do you not think that at my return we shall be old enough to
establish ourselves in our own house, live there happily together and
receive our friends?" and the letter concludes, "Adieu, my love. I only
wish this project could be executed on this present day."
While Lafayette was living through all sorts of thrilling experiences
and receiving still higher promotion as a reward for his brilliant
military exploits, across the sea had come the disquieting rumour to
Madame D'Ayen of his death, and the mother-heart stood still with fear
that it should reach the brave wife, already saddened enough by the
suspense of her loneliness, and now the mother of another little
daughter who needed all the happy smiles that Adrienne could give. With
great haste and diplomacy Madame D'Ayen urged Adrienne to visit her
grandfather at Fresnes, and unsuspecting Adrienne welcomed the
suggestion of a change of scene, as her heart-hunger for the "big boy"
over the water was daily growing more insistent. She returned in better
health and spirits, but as the rumour had not yet been discredited,
Madame D'Ayen insisted on another visit to the country, and never did
Adrienne know of the report which would have almost killed her, until a
glad unexpected day, when, without any warning to expect him, Adrienne
found herself again in the arms of her husband. Lafayette had been
overcome with homesickness at a time when affairs looked bright enough
for the American army to risk his absence, and he had impulsively taken
the first steamer sailing for France and home. Then and only then did
Adrienne hear of the rumour which had caused her mother such
disquietude, and then for the first time Madame D'Ayen had the
opportunity for which she had longed, to learn the details of that
alliance between France and America, in which she was profoundly
interested and in the making of which Lafayette had played such a
prominent part. There was indeed much to talk about after the long
separation, and Lafayette felt that he could not have Adrienne and the
little daughter whom he had not seen before, out of his sight even for a
moment. Adrienne would have been quite happy, had not a dark disquietude
troubled even her nights, for Lafayette had come but to go again, and
if the first parting had been hard, this was doubly so, for she knew now
how devotedly she loved him, and that the changes made in him in his two
years of adventure and real privation, had only given her affection a
stronger desire for his presence and protection. But with characteristic
courage she made no plea that he should stay, but showed a keen bright
interest in all the news which came from America, and Lafayette remained
with her until after the birth of his son, who was christened George
Washington Lafayette. Soon after this event, Adrienne was obliged once
again to say farewell to her husband, and as before, she held herself in
proud courage, a courage which a woman twice her age might have been
proud to show, offering no word which might sadden his going, but
spurred him on with the dauntless spirit of the woman who inspires a man
to be his best self.
Three long years now went by and Adrienne alone bore the anxiety and
responsibility of her baby boy's alarming sickness, at the same time
constantly kept on the rack of suspense by newspaper accounts of the
dangerous campaigns in which Lafayette was playing a prominent part. But
she remained outwardly calm and courageous, and even made herself enter
a little into Court festivities, that she might brighten the lives of
her mother and the children who looked to her for their sunshine.
Days, weeks and months went by, and then there came a grand fete at the
Hotel de Ville, to celebrate the birth of the Dauphin, and despite her
heavy heart Adrienne went to it, looking very pretty in her stately
Court gown of stiff brocade, which threw into sharp contrast her girlish
figure and face. Trying not to put a damper on the party, she was
chatting as gaily as possible with a courtier who was her devoted
admirer, when a message was brought to her. There was a general stir of
excited interest around her. What was it they said? Adrienne could
scarcely credit the news. The Virginia campaign brought to a successful
end? The Marquis de Lafayette at home? Cornwallis surrendered? Lafayette
_at home_, and waiting for her? Even the Queen was wildly excited by the
good news, and being fond of both Adrienne and Lafayette, she rushed to
the dazed girl's side, exclaiming impatiently, "Rouse, dear, rouse; make
haste, or," this laughingly, "your red-headed boy may have sailed again
for his beloved land of freedom!" Still Adrienne made no movement, and
Marie Antoinette took her by the arm, saying, "I see I must personally
conduct you to your own happiness. Come, my own carriage waits!"
By this time Adrienne's heart had responded to the bewildering news, and
bending over the Queen's hand she would have thanked her for her favour,
but Marie Antoinette was young and romantic, and pushed aside the
ceremonious thanks, to impel the still dazed Adrienne into the carriage.
The Queen's carriage! The Queen herself! was whispered on every side at
the unwonted sight of royalty driving so unceremoniously through the Rue
Saint Honore, but the Queen paid no heed to the fact that she was doing
something unusual, and Adrienne saw nothing--heard nothing--she only
kept repeating, "The campaign is over--Cornwallis has surrendered. He is
back!"
The massive gates of the courtyard of the Hotel de Noailles swung open
to admit the carriage. Marie Antoinette only waited to murmur an
exclamation of congratulation, to press a hasty kiss on Adrienne's
cheek, then drove away, while Adrienne, her great brown eyes lustrous
with excitement and joy, her cheeks flaming with such crimson as had
not flushed them for weary months, ran up the steps between the rows of
stiff lackeys, ran so fast that she tripped on her absurdly ceremonious
dress of brocade, tripped and tripped again, and then with a cry of joy
ran into the arms of her beloved boy with the red hair!
Brave little Adrienne--the pages of history are filled with the noble
deeds of that husband who so early in life took up the cause of American
liberty, and so valiantly fought for it, but who dares say that your
name too should not be honoured with his, by every true American,
because of your loving thoughts, your prayers and hopes which, winging
their way across the ocean, inspired the young French patriot to all
that was finest in his achievement!
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Repeated chaper titles were removed.
Varied hyphenation was retained.
Obvious punctuation errors were corrected.
Page 18, "whereever" changed to "wherever" (vowed to go wherever)
Page 23, "seige" changed to "siege" (siege of Orleans)
Page 71, "Gwenynedd" changed to "Gwynedd" (Gwynedd, some fifteen)
Page 86, "Gwenyedd" changed to "Gwynedd" (the hills of Gwynedd)
Page 117, word "be" added to text (would be useless to teach)
Page 187, "Spottsylvania" changed to "Spotsylvania" (the battle of
Spotsylvania)
Page 193, "VERCHERES" changed to "VERCHERES" (MADELEINE DE VERCHERES)
Page 222, "divison" changed to "division" (a division in the
continental)