A SUCCESSFUL FAILURE
It was on the 20th of December that Lafayette received the joyful news
of the birth of a second daughter. She was named Anastasie. The whole
camp shared in the happiness of the young father. In fact, the affairs
of the young hero interested everybody so much that there was indeed
some danger that he would be spoiled. And he certainly would have been
but for the balance of good judgment and mental poise that offset
youthful rashness and vanity.
At about the same time, in a long letter to his father-in-law, he
explained the course of action he had marked out for himself. He said:
"I read, I study, I examine, I listen, I reflect; and the result of
all is the endeavor at forming an opinion into which I infuse as much
common sense as possible. I will not talk much, for fear of saying
foolish things; for I am not disposed to abuse the confidence which
the Americans have kindly placed in me."
This was Lafayette's real spirit and his secret counsel to himself;
and we can but wonder that a young man so impetuous, so enthusiastic,
one who had had the courage to start out on this hazardous enterprise,
should have combined with those qualities so cool and steady a
judgment and so rigid a self-control. But it was just this combination
of qualities that led Lafayette on to his successes.
There was, however, severe discipline in store for him. His strength
of purpose was to be put to a sharp test. This came about in two ways:
first, in the stern ordeal of the winter at Valley Forge, and
afterwards in the expedition into the wilderness north of Albany.
Everybody knows what the hardships of the American army were in those
dark days of the Revolution, the winter of 1777-78. Washington had
suffered defeat and disaster; but he, like his faithful followers, was
of the temper that could not be depressed. At Valley Forge the men
built a city of wooden huts, and these afforded at least a shelter
from the storms, though they were scarcely better than dungeons. Their
sufferings were terrible. They were inadequately clothed; many had
neither coats, hats, shirts, nor shoes; they were in want of food;
illness followed. Many had to have feet or legs amputated because of
the effects of freezing. Lafayette had to see all this, and to him
their patient endurance seemed nothing short of miraculous.
He even tried to make merry a little over their sad situation, and
over the nearness of the British army, for he wrote to his wife, "I
cannot tell whether it will be convenient for General Howe to make us
a visit in our new settlement; but we shall try to receive him with
proper consideration if he does."
For the moment the American cause was under a cloud. Should Lafayette
return to France now? If he did, this would have been the interpretation
of his act--he had lost faith in the American undertaking. This belief
would have been heralded throughout the British army and would soon have
been echoed in France. Lafayette did not wish to shoulder the
responsibility of the effect his withdrawal might have on the hopes of
help from French sympathy and French resources, and on the determination
of other recruits who might come over and bring aid. He decided to remain
with Washington and the American army and share whatever fate might be
theirs. So Lafayette courageously remained. Accustomed to a life of
luxury, he nevertheless adapted himself at once to the melancholy
conditions at Valley Forge.
There was a strange surprise awaiting Lafayette when he came to know
the American situation more intimately. Before he left Europe, his
sincere mind had clothed the cause of liberty in this country in the
most rosy colors. He thought that here almost every man was a lover of
liberty who would rather die free than live a slave. Before leaving
France he thought that all good Americans were united in one mind, and
that confidence in the commander in chief was universal and unbounded;
he now believed that if Washington were lost to America, the
Revolution would not survive six months. He found that there were open
dissensions in Congress; that there were parties who hated one
another; people were criticizing without knowing anything about war
methods; and there were many small jealousies. All this disheartened
him greatly; he felt that it would be disastrous if slavery, dishonor,
ruin, and the unhappiness of a whole world should result from trifling
differences between a few jealous-minded men.
After a time the disaffected ones in the army tried to win Lafayette
from his close allegiance to Washington. They entertained him with
ideas of glory and shining projects--a clever way to entice him into
their schemes. Deceived for a time, he received their proffers of
friendship and their flattering compliments, but when he noted that
some of them were able to speak slightingly and even disrespectfully
of the commander in chief, he dashed the temptation away with absolute
contempt.
Filled with the desire to ward off all possible peril from an influence
which he knew would disrupt the American cause, he impetuously started in
to help. He sought an interview with Washington, but not finding an early
opportunity for this, he wrote him a long and noble letter which has been
preserved. In it he said:
"I am now fixed to your fate, and I shall follow it and sustain it by
my sword as by all means in my power. You will pardon my importunity
in favor of the sentiment which dictated it. Youth and friendship make
me, perhaps, too warm, but I feel the greatest concern at all that has
happened for some time since."
In answer to this impulsive and true-hearted letter, General Washington
wrote one of the most distinctive and characteristic of all the hundreds
of letters of his that are preserved. He said:
"Your letter of yesterday conveyed to me fresh proof of that
friendship and attachment which I have happily experienced since the
first of our acquaintance and for which I entertain sentiments of the
purest affection. It will ever constitute part of my happiness to know
that I stand well in your opinion because I am satisfied that you can
have no views to answer by throwing out false colors, and that you
possess a mind too exalted to condescend to low arts and intrigues to
acquire a reputation."
It must have been welcome to the harassed heart of the man who stood
at the head of so great a cause to receive the proofs of this young
man's friendship and of his absolutely loyal support. Washington
closed the letter with these gracious and inspiriting words:
"Happy, thrice happy, would it have been for this army, and for the
cause we are embarked in, if the same generous spirit had pervaded all
the actors in it.... But we must not, in so great a contest, expect to
meet with nothing but sunshine. I have no doubt that everything
happens for the best, that we shall triumph over all our misfortunes,
and in the end be happy; when, my dear Marquis, if you will give me
your company in Virginia, we will laugh at our past difficulties and
the folly of others; and I will endeavor, by every civility in my
power, to show you how much and how sincerely I am your affectionate
and obedient servant."
The political conspiracy developed into what is known in history as
the "Cabal." Thwarted in their attempt to draw into their interests
the man whose importance to them, as representing in an unofficial way
the French influence in America, was fully appreciated, they hatched a
scheme that should remove him from the side and from the influence of
Washington. This scheme consisted of a project on paper to send an
expedition into Canada, in order to win the people there to join the
American revolt, if possible to do so, by persuasion or by force. The
plan had many features that appealed to Lafayette.
The conspirators of the Cabal had carried a measure in Congress to
give Lafayette the promise of an independent command, and the
commission for this was inclosed to General Washington. He handed it
to the major general, who had so lately joined the army as a
volunteer, with the simple words, "I would rather they had selected
you for this than any other man."
But Lafayette loyally put aside the tempting prospect of winning
personal glory in the Old World and the New by this expedition, and
declined to receive any commission from Congress that would make him
independent of Washington. He would serve only as a subordinate of the
commander in chief, as one detailed for special duties. He wished to
be called "General and Commander of the Northern Army," not commander
in chief. Congress accepted the condition.
It was in this way, then, that Lafayette received the title of
"General," a distinction that he valued more than that of Marquis, and
that to the end of his days he preferred above all other titles.
With characteristic enthusiasm Lafayette proceeded to York, where
Congress was then assembled, and where the members of the conspiracy
were living in comfort that contrasted curiously with the conditions
surrounding General Washington at Valley Forge. At a dinner given
while Lafayette was there, the northern expedition and Lafayette's
brilliant prospects were made themes of praise. But Lafayette missed
one name from the list of toasts; at the end of the dinner he arose
and, calling attention to the omission, he proposed the name of the
commander in chief. In silence the men drank the toast; they had
learned by this time that the young French noble was made of
unmanageable material.
With a heart, however, for any fate, Lafayette started on the long,
wearisome journey northward. There were rivers deep and swift to
cross; the roads were bad and the wintry storms made them worse.
Floating ice crowded the fords. Rain and hail and snow and slush made
up a disheartening monotony.
It certainly was dismal. On his way north the young general was made
happy, however, by receiving a "sweet parcel of letters," telling him
that his family were very well and that they were keeping in loving
remembrance the man who was called in France, "The American Enthusiast."
This warmed his heart as he plodded northward through the storm.
On Lafayette's arrival at Albany, he found that none of the promises
made to him as to supplies, available men, money, and other necessary
equipment had been kept; and the judgment of advisers who knew the
difficulties of a northern excursion in the depth of winter was
against the expedition. Lafayette was exasperated and wrote frantic
letters to Washington, to Congress, and to Henry Laurens.
But it was of no avail. The expedition had to be given up. Lafayette
remained at Albany during the months of February and March, giving his
personal credit to pay many of the men and to satisfy other demands,
and taking up various duties and projects. For one thing, he went up
the Mohawk River to attend a large council of the Iroquois Indians.
This was Lafayette's first official contact with the red men, and he
at once manifested a friendship for them and an understanding of
their nature that won their hearts. He sent one of his French
engineers to build a fort for the Oneidas, and he was present at a
grand treaty ceremony. A band of Iroquois braves followed Lafayette
southward and later formed part of a division under his command.
It was a discomfited but not a despairing young warrior who returned
in April to Valley Forge. But joy was before him. The Cabal had
vanished before the storm of loyalty to Washington that gathered when
the conspiracy was discovered. Moreover, Lafayette received from
Congress a testimonial, saying that they entertained a high sense of
his prudence, his activity, and his zeal, and they believed that
nothing would have been wanting on his part, or on the part of the
officers who accompanied him, to give the expedition the utmost
possible effect, if Congress had not thought it impracticable to
prosecute it further. Better still, on the 2d of May came the great
news that a treaty of commerce and alliance had been signed between
France and the United States of America.
This event caused a wild wave of joy to spread over the whole country.
This treaty assured the permanence of the United States as a nation.
To be sure, the war with England must still be carried on, but now
that France was an ally they would have more hope and courage.
In the doleful camp at Valley Forge there was the sincerest gratification
and delight. A national salute of thirteen cannon was ordered; a
thanksgiving sermon was preached; a fine dinner was served for the
officers, and the table was made more delightful by the presence of Mrs.
Washington, Lady Stirling, Mrs. Greene, and other wives and daughters of
generals.
Lafayette took part in these scenes of rejoicing, but there was a
reason why, underneath it all, his heart was heavy. Almost with the
letters announcing the joyous news of the treaty, came others telling
him of the death, in October, 1777, of his little daughter Henriette,
of whom he had said that he hoped their relationship would be more
that of friends than of parent and child. This happiness was not to be
theirs. Lafayette now thought that he had never realized before what
it meant to be so far away from his home. The thought of Henriette and
of the grief of Adrienne, which he was not able by his presence to
help assuage, was with him every moment of the day; but even while his
heart was heavy with grief, he felt that he must attend and bear his
part in the public rejoicings.