Arrival in America—Letter to his Wife from Charleston—La Fayette’s First
Impressions of America—Letter from Petersburg—Arrival in
Philadelphia—Chilling Reception by Congress—La Fayette’s Magnanimous
Offer—Resolution passed by Congress—The First Meeting between
Liberty’s Knight and the “Man of the Age”—Washington’s Kindly
Reception of the Young Marquis—Letter from Franklin to Washington
regarding La Fayette—Battle of Brandywine—La Fayette wounded—Letter to
his Wife from Philadelphia—La Fayette in the Care of the Moravian
Society—Letter to his Wife—La Fayette’s Home Life described by his
Daughter Virginie—La Fayette again in the Field—The Battle of
Gloucester—Congress commissions the Marquis to the Command of a
Division—Winter Quarters at Valley Forge—Letter from La Fayette to his
Father-in-law, the Duke d’Ayen—His Impressions regarding American
Affairs—A Treacherous Intrigue against Washington—La Fayette’s Manly
Letter to him—Washington’s Noble Reply—The New Board of War—La Fayette
appointed to the Command of the Expedition into Canada—His Letter to
Washington from Albany—Expedition to Canada abandoned—La Fayette’s
Return to Valley Forge—Sir William Howe outwitted by the Young
Marquis—La Fayette’s Influence in the Army—Death of La Fayette’s
Little Daughter—His Touching Letter to his Wife.
“When Freedom from her mountain height
Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night
And set the stars of glory there.”—DRAKE.
ON the 14th of June, 1777, La Fayette landed at Winyau Bay, about sixty
miles northeast from Charleston. Nature had clothed herself in her
loveliest garb to welcome the knight of liberty who had sacrificed
wealth and luxury and the gay life of courts, to unsheathe his sword in
this new land in defence of freedom.
It was midnight under the soft June skies. The stars glowed in
benediction, and the moon shed a calm radiance over the scene. As the
canoe conveyed the travellers up the picturesque bay, the wooded land
beyond seemed to stretch out its leafy hands of welcome, and the air was
perfumed with the delicious fragrance of innumerable flowers. Such was
America’s greeting to her brave defender.
Of this, let La Fayette’s own letters speak. Back to the love of his
heart, the wife whose constant devotion was his guiding star, fly
quickly his thoughts, on the swift wings of affection, and he hastens to
pen these lines:—
“JUNE 19.
“I landed at Charleston, after having sailed for several days along a
coast swarming with hostile vessels. On my arrival here every one told
me that my ship would undoubtedly be taken, because two English frigates
had blockaded the harbor. I even sent, both by land and by sea, orders
to the captain to put the men on shore, and burn the vessels, if he had
still the power of doing so. _Eh bien!_ 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 noonday, without having encountered
friend or foe. At Charleston I have met 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 shown me the greatest attention and politeness—not
European politeness merely. I can only feel gratitude for the reception
tendered me, although I have not yet thought proper to enter into any
details 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.
“I shall now speak to you, my love, about the country and its
inhabitants, who are as agreeable as my enthusiasm led me to imagine.
Simplicity of manner, kindness of heart, love of country and of liberty,
and a delightful state of equality are universal. The richest and the
poorest men 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 toward each other. I
first saw and judged of a country life at Major Huger’s house. I am at
present in this city, where I notice a resemblance to English customs,
except that I find more simplicity here than in England.
“Charleston 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. The extreme neatness of their
appearance is truly delightful. Cleanliness is everywhere even more
studiously regarded here than in England. What gave me most pleasure is
to see how completely the citizens are all brethren of one family. In
America there appear to be none poor, and none even who 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 in Europe; the host and hostess
sit at table with you, and do the honors of a comfortable meal, and when
you depart you pay your bill without being obliged to fee attendants. If
you dislike going to inns, you always find country houses, in which you
will be received as a good American, with the same attention that you
expect to find at a friend’s house in Europe.
“My own reception has been 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
endeavored 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 officer here will take me to see the town and its
environs, and I shall then set out to join the army.
“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 twenty years, the similarity between their manner of thinking and
my own, my love of glory and 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 away 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 my heart
does not deceive me. I am inexpressibly anxious to hear from you, and
hope to find some letters at Philadelphia. My only fear is lest the
privateer which was to bring them to me may have been captured on her
way. Although I can easily imagine that I have excited the special
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.
The night is far advanced, the heat intense, and I am devoured by
mosquitoes; but the best countries, as you perceive, have their
inconveniences. Adieu, my love, adieu.”
Again La Fayette writes to his wife from Petersburg, Va., July 17,
1777:—
“I am now eight days’ journey from Philadelphia, in the beautiful state
of Virginia. All fatigue is over, and I fear that my martial labors 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.
“You must have learned the particulars of the beginning 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 expect 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.
“The farther I advance to the north, the better pleased I am with the
country and its 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.”
As soon as La Fayette arrived in Philadelphia, he presented himself
before Congress, then in session. The moment was inauspicious. Mr. Deane
had given so many foreigners the same promises, that Congress found
itself in a very embarrassing situation. Many of these foreigners were
brave men, and true, who had come to America with philanthropic motives,
but others were mere adventurers, and Congress therefore received the
young Marquis de La Fayette with coldness and indifference, which he
illy deserved, and which in the light of after events proved a
mortifying mistake. La Fayette laid his stipulations with Mr. Deane
before Congress, but, with surprise and chagrin, he was informed by the
chairman of the Committee on Foreign Affairs that there was little hope
that his request would be granted.
Imagine the feelings of the noble young marquis of nineteen. He had
sacrificed home, family, friends, and fortune, to give his aid to this
struggling nation, and his immense personal sacrifices were thus
insultingly thrown into his face. What blindness in Congress! What
heroic magnanimity in La Fayette! Pride and patriotism battled in his
sensitive soul. But unselfish patriotism conquered, and never does he
appear more truly great than at this moment. Seizing a pen, he writes to
Congress this brief but immortal note:—
“After the sacrifices I have made, I have a right to exact two favors:
one is, to serve at my _own expense_; the other is, to serve as a
_volunteer_.”
Astonished at such unprecedented generosity, and conscious of their
mistake in classing the young marquis with other foreigners, who were
actuated by selfish avarice and love of adventure, Congress accordingly
passed the following preamble and resolution on the 31st of July, 1777:—
“_Whereas_, the Marquis de La Fayette, out of his great zeal in the
cause of liberty in which the United States are engaged, has left his
family and connections, and, at his own expense, come over to offer his
service to the United States, without pension or particular allowance,
and is anxious to risk his life in our cause;
“_Resolved_, That his services be accepted, and that in consideration of
his zeal, illustrious family and connections, he have the rank and
commission of a Major-General in the army of the United States.”
La Fayette’s first meeting with Washington was at a dinner party in
Philadelphia, on the 1st of August. The commander-in-chief looked with
sympathy upon the noble young hero, and their hearts were quickly united
in a bond of friendship which ignored diversity of age, country, and
experience, for they mutually recognized a self-sacrificing devotion to
the sacred and sublime cause of human liberty.
[Illustration: G o. Washington]
“When the company were about to separate, Washington took La Fayette
aside, spoke to him very kindly, complimented him on the noble spirit he
had shown, and the sacrifices he had made in favor of the American
cause, and then told him that he should be pleased if he would make the
headquarters of the commander-in-chief his home, establish himself there
whenever he thought proper, and consider himself at all times as one of
his family; adding in a tone of pleasantry, that he could not promise
him the luxuries of a court, or even the conveniences which his former
habits might have rendered essential to comfort; but since he had become
an American soldier he would doubtless contrive to accommodate himself
to the character he had assumed, and submit with a good grace to the
customs, manners, and privations of the republican army.”
Little was the bold spirit of La Fayette dismayed at the prospect of
difficulties and privations. His soul could not be confined by
hardships, dangers, or even defeats. He eagerly accepted the invitation
of Washington, and well repaid his kindly courtesy. It was about this
time that the following letter was written from Paris by Franklin to
Washington:—
“SIR: The Marquis de La Fayette, a young nobleman of great expectations
and exceedingly beloved here, is by this time probably with you. By some
misapprehension in his contract with the merchants of Bordeaux he was
prevented from using the produce of the cargo he carried over, and so
was left without a supply of money. His friends here have sent him over
about £500 sterling, and have proposed sending him more; but on
reflection, knowing the extreme generosity of his disposition, and
fearing that some of his necessitous and artful countrymen may impose on
his goodness, they wish to put his money into the hands of some discreet
friend, who may supply him from time to time, and by that means knowing
his expenses, may take occasion to advise him if necessary, from too
much imposition.
“They accordingly have desired us to name such a person to them. We have
not been able to think of one so capable and so suitable from the
influence of situation to perform that kind office as General
Washington, under whose eye the gentleman will probably be.
“We beg, therefore, in his behalf, what his friends out of respect would
not take the liberty of asking, that Your Excellency would be pleased to
furnish him with what money he may want in moderation, and take his
drafts payable to us for sums paid him, which we shall receive here, and
apply to the public service.
“We also join with his family in their earnest request that you would
favor him with your counsels, which you may be assured will be an act of
benevolence gratefully remembered and acknowledged by a number of very
worthy persons here who have interested themselves extremely in the
welfare of that amiable young nobleman.
“With the greatest respect we have the honor to be, Sir, Your
Excellency’s.”
The commission which La Fayette had received from Congress was, as yet,
only an honorary one, conferring upon him no real command. La Fayette
was now with Washington at his headquarters. He was yearning for active
duties, and impatient to prove by personal exploits his zeal in the
cause of liberty. Washington wrote to Congress regarding La Fayette’s
position, but received the unsatisfactory reply, “that the commission
given to the Marquis de La Fayette was only honorary, and that he could
not yet receive an appointment.” Again did the generous spirit of the
young hero meet only a cold rebuff in answer to his warm offers of
personal service. He determined now to win his position by his own
actions, and the opportunity was not long in arriving.
[Illustration: Benj. Franklin]
On the 11th of September, 1777, was fought the battle of Brandywine.
“The British fleet under Sir William Howe, whose movements along the
American coast at one time seeming to threaten Philadelphia, and at
another appearing to meditate an attack upon Charleston, had caused much
apprehension and doubt, had, at last, entered the Chesapeake; and,
having proceeded up the Elk River as far as it was safely navigable,
landed the forces at the ferry on the 25th of August. The determination
of an assault upon Philadelphia was no longer questionable. The day
before Sir William Howe landed, General Washington, to inspire the
citizens with confidence, paraded his troops through the streets of
Philadelphia, and then proceeded boldly to the Brandywine. The popular
clamor, favored by the voice of Congress, demanded a battle, and
Washington determined to risk one, though he greatly apprehended that he
could not successfully compete with the strength of the battalions
marching against him. But a battle, though disastrous, would be less
injurious than to suffer the enemy to advance to Philadelphia without
opposition.
“Washington, having halted for a few days on the banks of the Brandywine
to refresh his troops, and get a better knowledge of the face of the
country and the plans of the enemy, sent forward two divisions under
Green and Stephens, who proceeded nearer to the head of the Elk, and
encamped behind White Clay Creek. Three miles farther on, at Iron Hill,
was stationed General Maxwell, at the head of an effective corps of
light infantry, formed from a regiment of Morgan’s riflemen, which had
been detached to the northern army.
“Posting the cavalry along the lines, Washington, with the main body,
crossed the Brandywine, and took up his position behind Red Clay Creek,
on the road which Sir William Howe would have to traverse on his march
to Philadelphia. La Fayette was with him, and watched with the liveliest
interest the preparations for the approaching contest. These were made
with consummate adroitness and prudence; but Sir William Howe was no
common foe; and the direction which he seemed contemplating for his
vastly superior force decided Washington that a change of his own
position was necessary. A council of war was held on the night of the
9th of September, when it was determined to retire behind the
Brandywine, and meet the enemy near Chadd’s Ford, from the heights which
ranged along upon the opposite side of the river.
“On the morning of the 11th of September, soon after daybreak, La
Fayette sprang to his feet at the intelligence that the whole British
army was in motion, and advancing towards them on the direct road
leading over Chadd’s Ford. General Maxwell had been advantageously
stationed, so that he could command this road from the hills, on the
south side of the river; and the first action accordingly began with
him.
“The foe advanced in two magnificent columns, the right commanded by
General Knyphausen, and the left by Lord Cornwallis. The plan of Howe
was, that Knyphausen’s division should occupy the attention of the
Americans, by making repeated feints of attempting the passage of the
ford, while Cornwallis should make a long sweep up the river, and cross
it at Birmingham. Knyphausen accordingly advanced with his column, and
speedily dislodging General Maxwell from his post, forced him to cross
over, though with but little loss. A furious cannonading was instantly
begun, and other demonstrations made, which indicated the intention of
the British immediately to attempt the passage of the ford. The day was
occupied in preventing this, till eleven o’clock in the morning, when
the movement of Cornwallis was first announced to Washington. A smile of
delight played upon his countenance, and he immediately determined upon
one of those bold but judicious plans for which he was remarkable.
“Placing himself at the head of the centre and left wing of the army, he
resolved to cross the river in person, and overwhelm Knyphausen before
Cornwallis could be summoned back to his aid. His ranks were already
formed for the passage, and his troops had answered to the proposition
with deafening shouts, when a messenger arrived with the intelligence
that Cornwallis had only made a feint of crossing the fords above, and
was now actually bringing his division down the southern side of the
river, to re-unite with Knyphausen. The tidings were agony to
Washington; though, false, they came in a form which constrained him to
believe them true, and his bold project was accordingly abandoned. His
troops were impatient for the encounter, but for two hours he could only
give them quiet directions, while he endeavored, in distressing
suspense, to gain some clew to the movements of the enemy on the
opposite side.
“At about two o’clock in the afternoon his uncertainty was removed, when
certain intelligence reached him, that Lord Cornwallis, after having
made a circuit of nearly seventeen miles, had forded the river above its
forks, and, accompanied by Sir William Howe, was advancing upon him.
Close action was immediately prepared for, and all along the American
lines ran the accents of welcome for the conflict. The three divisions
which formed the right wing, under Generals Sullivan, Stirling, and
Stephens, were detached, and, moving up the Brandywine, fronted the
British column marching down the river. Selecting an advantageous piece
of ground near Birmingham, with the river on their left, and, having
both flanks covered by a thick wood, they hastily formed and awaited the
attack.
“La Fayette, who had kept by the side of Washington during these scenes,
and marked them with absorbing interest, soon saw that the divisions
designed to meet Cornwallis were to receive most of the heavy blows of
that day’s battle, and petitioned and obtained permission to join them.
A burst of enthusiasm greeted his arrival, as he threw himself into the
midst of the troops, eagerly awaiting the approach of the foe. The
opportunity which he sought was not wanting long. The host was visible,
sweeping in grand and imposing array over the plain before them. When he
saw the enemy, Lord Cornwallis formed in the finest order, and hastening
forward, his first line opened a brisk fire of musketry and artillery
upon them. It was about half-past four when the battle began. The
Americans returned the fire with great injury, but the impetuosity with
which the English and Hessian troops threw themselves upon their ranks
was more than they could withstand.
“For a time both parties fought with unparalleled bravery, and the
carnage was terrible. For some time it was a doubtful struggle, but the
fiery emulation which stimulated the English and the Hessians at last
compelled the Americans to give way before them.
“The right wing first yielded, then the left, while the central
division, where La Fayette was bravely fighting, was the last to breast
the storm, which now, concentrating its strength, spent its fury upon
those devoted ranks. Firm as a rock, they bore themselves proudly
against the tide of victory, which rolled in fearfully upon them. By a
skilful manœuvre, Cornwallis had managed to separate them from the
two wings, when defeat became inevitable. The whole fire of the enemy
was united against them, and the confusion became extreme. The troops at
first wavered, then rallied, then wavered again, and at last fell into a
disorderly retreat. It was in vain that La Fayette endeavored to check
them; defying danger, he stood almost single-handed against the
on-coming host, and endeavored to reanimate his flying comrades by his
own example. It was all fruitless. A ball struck him, and as he fell,
those remaining on the field gave way.
“Gimat, aide-de-camp to the Marquis, assisted his master in getting upon
a horse, and, though the blood was flowing profusely from his wound, La
Fayette reluctantly turned and joined the fugitives. General Washington
at this moment arrived with fresh troops upon the field. Greene’s
divisions had marched four miles _in forty-two minutes_, but were too
late to avert the disasters of the day. La Fayette, as soon as he saw
Washington, started to join him, but loss of blood obliged him to stop
and have his wound bandaged. While submitting to this a band of soldiers
came upon him so suddenly that he had barely time to remount for flight,
escaping, as by a miracle, the shower of bullets which whistled around
his form.
“A general rout was the order of the day. The road to Chester was
crowded with the retreating. Knyphausen had forced the passage of
Chadd’s Ford, notwithstanding the obstinate resistance of Generals Wayne
and Maxwell, who had been left to defend it. Washington found that all
that could be done was to stay the pursuit. So successful were his
efforts, and those of General Greene, that, as night approached, Sir
William Howe called in his troops and gave over the chase. La Fayette
was unwearied in his endeavors to save the army. Forgetting himself, his
wound, and everything but this one object, he exerted himself to the
utmost amid the darkness and dreadful confusion of that night, to
restore order among the fleeing and despairing soldiery. At Chester
Bridge, twelve miles from the scene of battle, he was in part
successful.”
The generals and the commander-in-chief arrived, and La Fayette, at last
fainting from loss of blood and fatigue, was borne away to receive the
attention which his situation demanded. The next day he wrote to his
wife as follows:—
“PHILADELPHIA, Sept. 12th.
“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 stronger party on the field of battle. Our Americans, after
having stood their ground for some time, ended at length by being
routed. While endeavoring to rally them, the English honored 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 upon my back for some time, which
puts me much out of humor. I hope 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, but we will endeavor, if
possible, to repair the evil. You must have received many letters from
me, unless the English be as 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. It is dreadful to be reduced to hold no communication
except 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, of writing to you.
Do the same on your part, my dearest life, if you love me. Adieu; I am
forbidden to write longer.”
After the battle of Brandywine Congress adjourned to Bristol, as
Philadelphia was thought to be in danger; and La Fayette was carried to
Bethlehem and placed in the care of the Moravian Society until his wound
should be healed. In October he thus wrote to his wife:—
“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 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.
“My first occupation was to write 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
may not have received my letter.
“As General Howe is giving, meanwhile, rather pompous details of his
American exploits to the king his master, if he should write that I am
wounded, he may also write 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 touched
neither 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 this 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, the harbor of which 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 shall, 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 Vicomte de Noailles will teach you, for I
cannot lose time by talking to you of politics.
“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 learned 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 which is taken of me. Among
the French officers who have all expressed the warmest interest in 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 the future.
“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 very tranquil life—but we will talk
over all this on my return. 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 chatterbox.
“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 recognized by her on my arrival; that is the penance
Henriette will impose upon me.”
In the life of Madame de La Fayette, written by her daughter, Madame de
Lasteyrie, this touching account is given of La Fayette’s wife at this
time.
“In the month of April, 1777, my father carried out his plan of going to
America. It is easy to judge of my mother’s grief on receiving tidings
so new, so unexpected, and so terrible. In addition to all she was
herself suffering; she had the pain of witnessing my grandfather’s
anger. ‘The French ladies,’ Lord Stomont, the English ambassador, wrote
to his government, ‘blame M. de La Fayette’s family, for having tried to
stop him in so noble an enterprise. If the Duc d’Ayen,’ one of them
said, ‘crosses such a son-in-law in such an attempt, he must not hope to
find husbands for his other daughters.’
“My mother felt that the more she excited pity, the more my father would
be censured. All her endeavors were then to conceal the tortures of her
heart, preferring to be thought childish or indifferent to bringing down
greater blame on his behavior. My mother found much comfort in the
kindness shown to her by my grandmother, whose noble mind made her
appreciate each detail of her son-in-law’s conduct.
“It was with truly maternal tenderness that she broke to her daughter
the different accounts of my father’s departure, of his arrest, of his
return to Bordeaux, and of his ultimate embarkation at the Port du
Passage in Spain.
“The first accounts of my father’s arrival in America reached my mother
a month after the birth of my sister Anastasie. His charming letters,
the accounts of his deeds, the success he had already achieved, caused
her a delight mingled with apprehensions for the dangers of war. The
news of my father having been wounded at the battle of Brandywine
reached my mother’s ears, but still more alarming reports were hidden
from her.”
After being wounded at Brandywine, La Fayette heard of the birth of his
second daughter, Anastasie. He thus tenderly wrote to his adored wife:—
“How happy your safety has made me. Dearest heart, I must speak of it
all through my letter, for I can think of nothing else. What rapture to
embrace you all,—the mother and the two little girls,—to make them
intercede with you for their truant father.”
Concerning this first visit of La Fayette to America Madame de La
Fayette herself thus writes:—
“M. de La Fayette executed in April the scheme he had been forming for
six months past, of going to serve the cause of independence in America.
I loved him tenderly. On hearing the news of his departure, my father
and all the family fell into a state of violent anger. My mother,
dreading these emotions for me, on account of the state of health I was
in, alarmed at the dangers her dearly beloved son had gone to seek so
far, having herself, less than anybody in the world, the thirst of
ambition and of worldly glory or a taste for enterprise, appreciated,
nevertheless, M. de La Fayette’s conduct as it was appreciated two years
later by the rest of the world. Totally casting aside all care with
regard to the immense expense of such an enterprise, she found, from the
first moment, in the manner in which it had been prepared, a motive for
distinguishing it from what is termed _une folie de jeune homme_. His
sorrow on leaving his wife and those who were dear to him convinced her
that she need not fear for the happiness of my life save in proportion
to her fears for his. It was she who gave me the cruel news of his
departure, and, with that generous tenderness which was peculiar to her,
she tried to comfort me by finding the means of serving M. de La
Fayette.
“At that time my mother’s youngest sister married M. de Ségur, one of M.
de La Fayette’s friends. My mother devoted to her all the moments she
could dispose of, but I was still the continual object of her
solicitude. She saw how much good she did me by showing her affection
for M. de La Fayette. Whenever M. de La Fayette’s touching letters
reached us, I could see how thoroughly she believed in his tenderness
for me. At the end of two months my dear Anastasie was born. It seemed
as if I already foresaw what a gift God was bestowing on me; from the
first moment of her birth I felt that in the midst of the greatest
trials I was still capable of joy. My child received her grandmother’s
blessing, and was carried by her to the baptismal font.
“The first news from M. de La Fayette arrived on the first of August,
one month after Anastasie’s birth. The comfort it gave me was fully
shared. My mother was indefatigable in her efforts to obtain some
accounts of him, to send him news from us, and to make herself useful to
him though separated by so great a distance. The few details which
reached us respecting his arrival, and the favorable impression he had
made on the public mind in America, did not surprise my mother, but
renewed her courage and made her still more thankful to Providence who
was so visibly protecting and guiding him. But shortly afterwards we
heard that M. de La Fayette had been wounded at the battle of
Brandywine. I need not say what were my mother’s feelings on hearing
such intelligence. She succeeded in keeping from me the report of his
death, which was spread about at that time, and to prevent false news
from reaching my ear; she first took me to her father’s place in
Burgundy, and then sent my sister and me on a visit to the Comtesse
Auguste de La Marck, at Raismes. The Comte de La Marck was Mirabeau’s
friend.
“During the winter of 1778 my mother turned all her efforts towards
obtaining intelligence from America. We heard occasionally from M. de La
Fayette. The alliance between France and the United States caused my
mother great satisfaction; I had never seen her take such interest in
any political event.”
Thus tenderly this young wife of eighteen was shielded by her mother’s
care during this trying absence of the young husband whom she so adored.
Regarding the unusual and ideal love existing between La Fayette and his
devoted wife in their early married life, their daughter Virginie,
afterwards the Marquise de Lasteyrie, thus writes:—
“I do not think it is possible to have an idea of my mother’s way of
loving. It was peculiar to herself. Her affection for my father
predominated over every other feeling without diminishing any. It might
be said she felt for him the most passionate attachment, if that
expression was in harmony with the exquisite delicacy which kept her
from any sort of jealousy, or, at least, from any of those evil impulses
generally attendant upon that feeling. Neither had she ever a moment of
_exigence_. Not only was it impossible for my father ever to perceive a
wish that could be unwelcome to him, but, even in the depth of her
heart, never did there lurk a bitter feeling. She was fourteen and a
half when she married. At that time her mind was violently agitated by
religious doubts. Notwithstanding the very tender feeling which drew her
towards my father, she was much troubled by the thought of the solemn
engagement she was taking at so early an age. All she felt appeared to
her beyond her strength, and she placed herself under the protection of
God, to whom in the midst of her disquietudes she never ceased to look
for support.
“My mother’s grief at my father’s departure to join his regiment made
her feel how deeply she was attached to him. She did not leave her
paternal home. In consequence of the extreme youth of both my parents,
for my father was but sixteen years of age, it had been agreed that they
should pass several years at the Hôtel de Noailles, the town residence
of my mother’s family.
“The following winter was very gay. My mother as well as her sister
frequently went both to the play and to balls. She enjoyed all these
pleasures with the liveliness of her age and disposition. Nevertheless,
I do not think she ever allowed herself to join in any before it had
been proved to her that she was conscientiously obliged to partake in
them. Never, even in her earliest youth, did she allow herself to taste
a single worldly amusement without being actuated by motives of duty
superior to those which forbade them. She did not join in them without
reflection, but, once decided, she would enjoy herself thoroughly and
without scruple. It is worthy of remark that the religious doubts which
tortured her should not have made her less timorous on this point. On
the contrary, she was incessantly applying for the grace of God in order
to learn the fulness of truth. He granted her prayers; her mind ceased
to be troubled. She made her first communion that same year, on the
first Sunday after Easter, and gave herself up to God, in whom she
continued to trust so faithfully amidst all the vicissitudes of life.
Shortly afterwards, her first child, little Henriette, was born.”
Before La Fayette’s wound, received at Brandywine, was sufficiently
healed to permit him to wear a boot, he was so impatient to enter into
active service, that he offered himself again as a volunteer, and joined
an expedition which was then fitting out under General Greene, to
operate in New Jersey. Preparations were made to give battle to Lord
Cornwallis; but that officer having received large re-enforcements,
General Greene, though greatly disappointed, deemed it inexpedient to
dare an attack. But young La Fayette could not consent to retire without
attempting to strike a blow. He was accordingly placed at the head of a
small company, for reconnoitring, and authorized to make an attack if he
thought it advisable. While he was examining the enemy’s position, his
little band came suddenly upon a picket of four hundred Hessians. La
Fayette’s company numbered only three hundred men; but he led them
gallantly to the attack, and the Hessians were soon flying before them.
La Fayette followed, and the Hessians meeting re-enforcements, turned to
meet their brave pursuers. Great as the odds were against him, La
Fayette and his valiant band boldly met the enemy, and again put them to
flight, pursuing them until dark; they returned to camp with only five
men wounded and one dead. Such was the battle of Gloucester.
This heroic action so impressed Congress with the bravery of La Fayette,
that they promptly responded to Washington’s renewed request in behalf
of the young marquis; and on the 1st of December, 1777, the following
resolution was passed:—
“_Resolved_, That General Washington be informed it is highly agreeable
to Congress that the Marquis de La Fayette be appointed to the command
of a division in the continental army.”
Three days after, La Fayette was publicly invested with his rank, and
placed over the division of Virginia troops, lately lead by General
Stephens.
The campaign of 1777 was now drawing to its close. Sir William Howe,
having recalled Lord Cornwallis, endeavored to force Washington from his
position; but though there were several skirmishes, in which La Fayette
distinguished himself, Washington would not be decoyed by his crafty
foe, and Howe marched back to Philadelphia without having effected a
battle.
The Revolutionary army now went into winter quarters at Valley Forge. La
Fayette thus describes the condition of their troops at this time:—
“The unfortunate soldiers were in want of everything; they had neither
coats, hats, shirts, nor shoes; their feet and legs froze until they
became black, and it was often necessary to amputate them. From want of
money they could not obtain either provisions or any means of transport.
The colonels were often reduced to two rations, and sometimes to one.
The army frequently remained whole days without provisions, and the
patient endurance of both soldiers and officers was a miracle, which
each moment served to renew. But the sight of their misery prevented new
engagements; it was almost impossible to levy recruits; it was easy to
desert into the interior of the country. The sacred fires of liberty
were not extinguished, it is true, and the majority of the citizens
detested British tyranny, but the triumph of the North (Gates’ defeat of
Burgoyne) and the tranquillity of the South had lulled to sleep
two-thirds of the continent.”
La Fayette endured with uncomplaining patience the greatest privations.
He adopted the American dress, habits, and food. He allowed himself to
fare no better than his comrades in war; and though his entire life
heretofore had been spent in ease and luxury, he repined not at cold and
scanty provisions, but rather gloried in his personal sacrifices. He
thus writes from Valley Forge to his father-in-law, the Duke d’Ayen, in
France:—
“The loss of Philadelphia is far from being so important as it is
conceived to be in Europe. If the difference of circumstances, of
countries, and of proportions between the two armies were not duly
considered, the success of General Gates would appear surprising when
compared with the events which have occurred with us, taking into
account the superiority of General Washington over General Gates. Our
general is a man formed, in truth, for this revolution, which could not
have been accomplished without him. I see him more intimately than any
other man, and I see that he is worthy of the adoration of his country.
His tender friendship for me and his complete confidence in me relating
to all political and military subjects, great as well as small, enable
me to judge of all the interests he has to conciliate, and all the
difficulties he has to conquer.
“I admire each day more fully the excellence of his character and the
kindness of his heart. Some foreigners are displeased at not having been
employed, although it did not depend on him to employ them; others,
whose ambitious projects he would not serve, and some intriguing jealous
men, have endeavored to injure his reputation; but his name will be
revered in every age by all true lovers of liberty and humanity.
Although I may appear to be eulogizing my friend, I believe that the
part he makes me act gives me the right of avowing publicly how much I
admire and respect him.
“America is most impatiently expecting us to declare for her, and France
will one day, I trust, determine to humble the pride of England. This
thought, and the measures which America appears determined to pursue,
give me great hopes for the glorious establishment of her independence.
We are not, I confess, as strong as I expected; but we are strong enough
to fight, and we shall do so, I think, with some degree of success. With
the assistance of France we shall gain the cause that I cherish, because
it is the cause of justice; because it honors humanity; because it is
important to my country; and because my American friends and myself are
deeply engaged in it. The approaching campaign will be an interesting
one. It is said that the English are sending against us some
Hanoverians; some time ago they threatened us with what was far
worse,—the arrival of some Russians. A slight menace from France would
lessen the number of these re-enforcements. The more I see of the
English, the more thoroughly convinced I am that it is necessary to
speak to them in a loud tone.
“After having wearied you with public affairs, you must not expect to
escape without being wearied also with my private affairs. It is
impossible to be more agreeably situated in a foreign country than I am.
I have only feelings of pleasure to express, and I have each day more
reason to be satisfied with the conduct of Congress towards me, although
my military occupations have allowed me to become personally acquainted
with but few of its members. Those I do know have especially loaded me
with marks of kindness and attention. The new president, Mr. Laurens,
one of the most respectable men of America, is my particular friend. As
to the army, I have had the happiness of obtaining the friendship of
every individual; not one opportunity is lost of giving me proofs of it.
“I passed the whole summer without receiving a division, which you know
had been my previous intention; I passed all that time at General
Washington’s house, where I felt as if I were with a friend of twenty
years’ standing. Since my return from Jersey, he has desired me to
choose among several brigades the division which may please me best. I
have chosen one entirely composed of Virginians. It is weak in point of
numbers at present, just in proportion, however, to the weakness of the
whole army, and almost in a state of nakedness; but I am promised cloth,
of which I shall make clothes, and recruits, of which soldiers must be
made, about the same period; but unfortunately the latter is the more
difficult task, even for more skilful men than I.
“The task I am performing here, if I have acquired sufficient experience
to perform it well, will improve exceedingly my future knowledge. The
major-general replaces the lieutenant-general and the field-marshal in
their most important functions, and I should have the power of employing
to advantage both my talents and experience, if Providence and my
extreme youth allowed me to boast of possessing either. I read, I study,
I examine, I listen, I reflect; and the result of all is the endeavor to
form an opinion into which I infuse as much common sense as possible. I
will not talk much for fear of saying foolish things; I will still less
risk acting much, for fear of doing foolish things; for I am not
disposed to abuse the confidence which the Americans have so kindly
placed in me. Such is the plan of conduct which I have followed until
now, and which I shall continue to follow; but when some plans occur to
me which I believe may become useful when properly rectified, I hasten
to impart them to a great judge, who is good enough to say he is pleased
with them.
“On the other hand, when my heart tells me that a favorable opportunity
offers, I cannot refuse myself the pleasure of participating in the
peril; but I do not think that the vanity of success ought to make us
risk the safety of an army, or of any portion of it, which may not be
formed or calculated for the offensive. If I could make an axiom with
the certainty of not saying a foolish thing, I should venture to add
that whatever may be our force, we must content ourselves with a
completely defensive plan, with the exception, however, of the moment
when we may be forced to action, because I think I have perceived that
the English troops are more astonished by a brisk attack than by a firm
resistance.
“This letter will be given you by the celebrated Adams, whose name must
undoubtedly be known to you. As I have never allowed myself to quit the
army, I have never seen him. He wished that I should give him letters of
introduction to France, especially to yourself. May I hope that you will
have the goodness to receive him kindly, and even to give him some
information respecting the present state of affairs? I fancied that you
would not be sorry to converse with a man whose merit is so universally
acknowledged. He desires ardently to succeed in obtaining the esteem of
our nation. One of his friends himself told me this.”
About this time a base and treacherous intrigue was formed against
Washington. General Gates’ victory over Burgoyne covered his name with a
blaze of glory, and censurers of Washington’s prudent policies were not
slow in suggesting that Horatio Gates was entitled to the honor of
receiving the post of commander-in-chief; and there were not wanting
ambitious partisans and disloyal spirits to swell the ranks of the
plotting discontents. Treachery and falsehood now joined their crafty
hands in fellowship, and together working their machinations, they
strove by base insinuations to break down the influence of Washington,
and even endeavored to enlist the true-hearted La Fayette in favor of
their vile schemes. But the friendship of the young marquis could not be
weakened by any artful plot, nor could his firm alliance be shaken by
any promises of rank or power.
It was at this time that he sent to Washington this manly and
appreciative letter:—
“MY DEAR GENERAL: I went yesterday morning to headquarters, with an
intention of speaking to your excellency, but you were too busy, and I
shall inform you in this letter what I wished to say.
“I don’t need to tell you that I am sorry for all that has happened for
some time past. My sorrow is a necessary consequence of my most tender
and respectful friendship for you, which affection is as true and candid
as the other sentiments of my heart, and much stronger than so new an
acquaintance seems to admit; but another reason to be concerned in the
present circumstances is the result of my ardent and perhaps
enthusiastic wishes for the happiness and liberty of this country. I see
plainly that America can defend herself if proper measures are taken,
and now I begin to fear lest she should be lost by herself and her own
sons.
“When I was in Europe, I thought that here almost every man was a lover
of liberty, and would rather die free than live a slave. You can
conceive of my astonishment when I saw that Toryism was as openly
professed as Whiggism itself; however, at that time I believed that all
good Americans were united together; that the confidence of Congress in
you was unbounded. Then I entertained the belief that America would be
independent in case she should not lose you. Take away for an instant
that modest diffidence of yourself (which, pardon my freedom, my dear
General, is sometimes too great, and I wish you could know as well as
myself what difference there is between you and every other man), you
would see very plainly that, if you were lost for America, there is
nobody who could hold the army and the revolution six months. There are
open discussions in Congress; parties who hate one another as much as
the common enemy; stupid men, who, without knowing a single word about
war, undertake to judge you, to make ridiculous comparisons. They are
infatuated with Gates, without thinking of the different circumstances,
and believe that attacking is the only thing necessary to conquer. These
ideas are entertained by some jealous men, and perhaps secret friends to
the British government, who want to push you, in a moment of ill-humor,
to some rash enterprise upon the lines, and against a much stronger
army. I should not take the liberty of mentioning these particulars if I
had not received a letter about this matter from a young, good-natured
gentleman at York, whom Conway has ruined by his cunning, but who
entertains the greatest respect for you.”
La Fayette then recounts the efforts which the enemies of Washington had
made to win his allegiance from the commander-in-chief, and closes by
reiterating his tender and profound respect.
Washington, in replying to this letter, thanks La Fayette for the “fresh
proof of friendship and attachment which it gave him,” and in conclusion
writes: “But we must not, in so great a contest, expect to meet 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.”
A new board of war had been instituted by Congress, designed to have a
general control of military affairs. Of this board Gates was made
president, and his influence was given in favor of measures contrary to
the views of Washington. As La Fayette could neither be persuaded nor
bribed to be false to Washington, the conspirators conceived a new plan.
An expedition into Canada was proposed, and Congress went so far as to
make a resolution regarding said expedition, and give all control of the
same into the hands of the Board of War. This was the opportunity wished
for by Washington’s enemies. Without consulting Washington, La Fayette
was informed that he was appointed to the command of this expedition,
and ordered to report at Albany, where the troops were to rendezvous.
The instructions given him were of the vaguest kind, and, as
after-events proved, intended to mislead him. Washington having advised
La Fayette to accept the commission, the marquis departed, taking with
him his countryman, the Baron de Kalb, as second in command. As
authority for these statements, we would refer to the “Mémoires et
Manuscrits” of La Fayette, published by his family in Paris, in 1837, in
which La Fayette himself declares these facts, and where the following
letter appears. A note is also added by his son, which says: “He wrote
to Congress that he could not accept the command only upon the condition
that he should remain subordinate to General Washington, and should be
considered as an officer despatched by him, to whom he should address
his letters, of which those received at the bureau of war should be but
duplicates. These demands, and all others which he had made, were
granted.” The result of this expedition may be learned by the
accompanying letter from La Fayette to Washington.
In previous letters, which we will not quote, the marquis entered into
minute details regarding the entire expedition, from the time of his
departure until his arrival at Albany, enumerating the many strange and
suspicious circumstances which came to his knowledge. He then sums up
the situation in the following letter:—
“MY DEAR GENERAL: I have an opportunity of writing to your Excellency,
which I will not miss by any means, even should I be afraid of becoming
tedious and troublesome; but if they have sent me far from you, I don’t
know for what purpose, at least I must make some little use of my pen,
to prevent all communication from being cut off between your Excellency
and myself. I have written lately to you my distressing, ridiculous,
foolish, and indeed nameless situation. I am sent with great noise, at
the head of an army, for doing great things; the whole continent, France
and Europe herself, and what is the worst, the British army, are in
great expectations. How far they will be deceived, how far we shall be
ridiculed, you may judge by the candid account you have got of the state
of affairs.
“There are things, I dare say, in which I am deceived; a certain colonel
is not here for nothing; one other gentleman became very popular before
I came to this place: Arnold himself is very fond of him. Every side on
which I turn to look I am sure a cloud is drawn before my eyes; but
there are points I cannot be deceived upon. The want of money, the
dissatisfaction among the soldiers, the disinclination of every one
(except the Canadians, who thereby would stay at home) for this
expedition, are as conspicuous as possible. I am sure I shall become
very ridiculous and be laughed at. _My expedition_ will be as famous as
the _secret expedition_ against Rhode Island. I confess, my dear
General, that I find myself of very sensitive feelings whenever my
reputation and glory are concerned in anything. It is very hard indeed
that such a part of my happiness, without which I cannot live, should
depend upon schemes which I never knew of but when there was no time to
put them into execution. I assure you, my most dear and respected
friend, that I am more unhappy than I ever was.
“My desire for doing something was such that I have thought of doing
it by surprise, with a detachment, but this seems to me rash and quite
impossible. I should be very happy if you were here to give me some
advice, but I have nobody to consult with. They have sent to me more
than twenty French officers, but I do not know what to do with them. I
beg you will acquaint me with the line of conduct you advise me to
follow on every point. I am at a loss how to act, and indeed I do not
know what I am here for myself. However, as being the highest officer
(after General Arnold) who has desired me to take the command, I think
it is my duty to guard the affairs of this part of America as well as
I can. Though General Gates holds the title and power of
commander-in-chief of the Northern Department, as two hundred thousand
dollars have arrived, I have taken upon myself to pay the most
important of the debts we are involved in. I am about sending
provisions to Fort Schuyler; and will go and see the fort. I will try
to get some clothes for the troops, and buy some articles for the next
campaign. I have directed some money to be borrowed upon my credit to
satisfy the soldiers, who are much discontented. In all I endeavor to
do for the best, though I have no particular authority or
instructions. I will come as near as I can to General Gates’
intentions, but I anxiously desire to get an answer to my letters.
“I fancy (between us) that the actual scheme is to have me out of this
part of the continent, and General Conway in chief command under the
immediate direction of General Gates. How they will bring it about I do
not know, but you may be sure something of that kind will appear. You
are nearer than myself, and every honest man in Congress is your friend;
therefore you can foresee and prevent, if possible, the evil, a hundred
times better than I can. I would only give the idea to your Excellency.
“Will you be so good as to present my respects to your lady? With the
most tender affection and highest respect I have the honor to be, etc.”
Deeply sympathizing with the trying position of the high-spirited young
marquis, Washington used his influence to have him recalled; but in such
manner as should honor his fidelity and exonerate his name from any
blame. His kind efforts in behalf of La Fayette were successful, and on
the second of March the Board of War was directed “to instruct the
Marquis de La Fayette to suspend for the present the intended invasion,
and at the same time inform him that Congress entertained a high sense
of his prudence, activity, and zeal; and that they were fully persuaded
nothing has or 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.”
La Fayette accordingly returned to Valley Forge, and rejoined
Washington. How inexpressibly comforting to the harassed heart of
Washington must have been the faithfulness of this young knight, who
laid his sword and fortune at the feet of his adopted father, before
whose character and virtue he bowed with devotion and stanch loyalty.
On the 19th of May, 1778, Sir William Howe, then commanding the British
troops occupying Philadelphia, planned to give the fair Tory ladies a
delightful surprise. Valley Forge was about twenty miles from
Philadelphia, and already Washington had begun several manœuvres in
the opening campaign. La Fayette had been detached with a picked company
of two thousand men, and ordered to cross the Schuylkill, and take up
his post as an advance guard of the army. In accordance with these
instructions, the marquis had stationed himself at Barren Hill, about
midway between Valley Forge and Philadelphia. This interesting piece of
news soon reached Sir William Howe, and he thereupon determined to
entrap the marquis, and exhibit him at a banquet which he had ordered to
be prepared, and to which he had invited his lady friends, promising
that they should upon that occasion behold the captured marquis, whose
fame, fortune, youth, and chivalry had long engaged their attention and
excited their deepest curiosity, and caused them eagerly to desire a
sight of this young nobleman.
But Sir William Howe and his fair Tory friends reckoned without their
host. Though the marquis was scarcely twenty-one, he was not so easily
outwitted by even such a military tactician as the renowned British
commander. He also heard of this fine plan to entrap him, and determined
by a hazardous and brilliant manœuvre to elude his foe. There was but
one method practicable, but it required great daring and cunning. La
Fayette was convinced that he must recross the river. To attempt this
seemed destruction; but his inventive wit and quick planning came to his
rescue. He would feign an attack, himself lead a portion of his band
boldly against the British general, who had been stationed by Howe to
guard the ford. This he did, meanwhile ordering the remainder of his men
to cross the river under cover of this stratagem. The plan was entirely
successful. The British, imagining that La Fayette’s whole division was
coming against them, halted and prepared for battle. This delay was La
Fayette’s opportunity; perceiving that part of his troops had crossed
the river, according to directions, he slowly withdrew his own forces,
and ere his enemies were aware, his entire band had arrived on the other
side of the river; and when the British reached Barren Hill, La
Fayette’s late camp, their intended prey had escaped and were marching
towards Valley Forge.
“Finding the bird flown, the English returned to Philadelphia, spent
with fatigue and ashamed of having done nothing. The ladies did not see
M. de La Fayette, and General Howe himself arrived too late for supper.”
General Washington had watched through a glass the imminent peril which
threatened the marquis; and when he clasped him in his arms, his heart
was stirred, and his eyes glistened with deep feeling. Loud acclamations
saluted the gallant band of soldiers, and their young leader became only
second in their hearts to Washington. From that moment the influence of
La Fayette was unlimited. His youth made his exploit all the more
remarkable, and his courage won their profoundest admiration.
M. Chastellux, in his work entitled “Journey from Newport to
Philadelphia,” thus wrote of La Fayette’s influence in the army: “We
availed ourselves of the cessation of the rain to accompany his
Excellency [General Washington] to the camp of the marquis [General La
Fayette]. We found all his troops ranged in line of battle on the
heights to the left, and himself at their head, expressing both by his
deportment and physiognomy that he preferred seeing me there to
receiving me at his estate in Auvergne. The confidence and attachment of
his troops are most precious in his eyes; for he looks upon that species
of wealth as one of which he cannot be deprived. But what I find still
more flattering to a young man of his age, is the influence which he has
acquired in political as well as in military circles. I have no fear of
being contradicted when I assert that mere letters from him have often
had more influence in some of the states of the Union than the strongest
invitations on the part of the Congress. On seeing him it is difficult
to determine which is the more surprising circumstance, that a young man
should have already given so many proofs of talent, or that a man so
proved should still leave so much room for hope. Happy will his country
be if she knows how to avail herself of his aid; and happier still,
should that aid become superfluous to her!”
But just as the welcome words of commendation from his beloved chief
fell upon the ear of La Fayette, sad tidings were wafted to him from
over the sea. The darling little Henriette, who had not yet learned to
lisp her father’s name when he parted with her, but since then had tried
with baby prattle to tell her love for her _cher papa_, had been
stricken down; the infant tongue had been silenced, the wondering eyes
closed, and the devoted father must wait until he too passed beyond
life’s river, to be recognized by his much-loved Henriette.
With sorrowful heart he pens these touching lines to his idolized wife:—
“What a dreadful thing is absence! I never experienced before all the
horrors of separation. My own deep sorrow is aggravated by the feeling
that I am not able to share and sympathize in your anguish. The length
of time that elapsed before I heard of this event also increased my
misery. Consider, my love, what a dreadful thing it must be to weep for
what I have lost, and tremble for what remains. The distance between
Europe and America appears to me more enormous than ever. The loss of
our poor child is almost constantly in my thoughts. This sad news
followed almost immediately that of the treaty; and while my heart was
torn by grief, I was obliged to receive and take part in expressions of
public joy.
“If the unfortunate news had reached me sooner, I should have set out
immediately to rejoin you; but the account of the treaty, which we
received the first of May, prevented me from leaving this country. The
opening campaign does not allow me to retire. I have always been
perfectly convinced that by serving the cause of humanity and that of
America I serve also the interests of France.
“Embrace a million times our little Anastasie; alas! she is all that we
have left. I feel that my divided tenderness is now concentrated upon
her. Take the best care of her. Adieu!”