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The Boys' Life of Lafayette

by Helen Nicolay · English · Gutenberg #50232 · 476,082 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Boys' Life of Lafayette

Author: Helen Nicolay


        
Release date: October 16, 2015 [eBook #50232]
                Most recently updated: October 22, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50232

Credits: Produced by Madeleine Fournier. Images from the Internet Archive.


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOYS' LIFE OF LAFAYETTE ***

THE BOYS' LIFE OF LAFAYETTE


[Illustration: MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE

From an engraving by Jones]



The Boys' Life of LAFAYETTE

by

Helen Nicolay

Illustrated

Harper & Brothers Publishers

New York and London



CONTENTS

CHAP.                                         PAGE

        Preface...............................  ix
     I. Warriors and Wild Beasts..............   1
    II. Educating a Marquis...................   9
   III. A New King............................  19
    IV. An Unruly Courtier....................  29
     V. Leading a Double Life.................  39
    VI. A Sea-turn............................  48
   VII. An American Pilgrimage................  57
  VIII. An Astonishing Reception..............  64
    IX. Proving Himself a Soldier.............  72
     X. Letters...............................  81
    XI. A Fool's Errand.......................  91
   XII. Farce and Treachery................... 104
  XIII. A Liaison Officer..................... 113
   XIV. Near-mutiny and near-imprisonment..... 122
    XV. Help--and Disappointment.............. 129
   XVI. Black Treachery....................... 139
  XVII. Preparing for the Last Act............ 149
 XVIII. Yorktown.............................. 158
   XIX. "The Wine of Honor"................... 168
    XX. The Passing of Old France............. 180
   XXI. The Tricolor.......................... 191
  XXII. The Sans-culottes..................... 200
 XXIII. Popularity and Prison................. 208
  XXIV. South Carolina to the Rescue!......... 221
   XXV. Volunteers in Misfortune.............. 235
  XXVI. Exiles................................ 246
 XXVII. A Grateful Republic................... 258
XXVIII. Leave-takings......................... 269
  XXIX. President--or King-maker.............. 276
   XXX. Seventy-six Years Young............... 289
        Index................................. 301


ILLUSTRATIONS

MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE................ _Frontispiece_
THE MANOR-HOUSE OF CHAVANIAC........ _Facing p._ 6
FRANKLIN AT THE FRENCH COURT........       "    42
WASHINGTON AND THE COMMITTEE OF CONGRESS
    AT VALLEY FORGE..................      "    94
VALLEY FORGE—WASHINGTON AND LAFAYETTE      "    94
THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH...............      "   110
THE BASTILLE.........................      "   194
SIEGE OF THE BASTILLE................      "   194
MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.................      "   262
MADAME DE LAFAYETTE..................      "   262
MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE AND LOUIS-PHILIPPE    "   286



[Pg ix]PREFACE

This is no work of fiction. It is sober history; yet if the bare facts
it tells were set forth without the connecting links, its preface might
be made to look like the plot of a dime novel.

It is the story of a poor boy who inherited great wealth; who ran away
from home to fight for liberty and glory; who became a major-general
before he was twenty years old; who knew every nook and corner of the
palace at Versailles, yet was the blood-brother of American Indians;
who tried vainly to save the lives of his king and queen; who was in
favor of law, yet remained a rebel to the end of his days; who suffered
an unjust imprisonment which has well been called "a night five years
long"; who was twice practically Dictator of France; and who, in his
old age, was called upon to make a great decision.

But it is no work of fiction. It is only the biography of a French
gentleman named Lafayette.



[Pg 1]THE BOYS' LIFE OF LAFAYETTE


I

WARRIORS AND WILD BEASTS


"The Lafayettes die young, but die fighting," was a saying in that part
of France where they had been people of consequence for seven hundred
years before the most famous of them came into the world. The family
name was Motier, but, after the custom of the time, they were better
known by the name of their estate, La Fayette, in Auvergne, a region
which had been called the French Siberia. Although situated in central
southern France, fully three hundred and fifty miles from Paris, it is
a high wind-swept country of plains and cone-shaped hills, among whose
rugged summits storms break to send destruction rushing down into the
valleys. Unexpected, fertile, sheltered spots are to be found among
these same hills, but on the whole it is not a gentle nor a smiling
land.

The history of France during the Middle Ages bears not a little
[Pg 2]resemblance to this region of Auvergne, so full of sharp
contrasts, often of disaster. Through all the turbulent centuries the
men of the house of Lafayette bore their part, fighting gallantly for
prince and king. Family tradition abounded in stories telling how
they had taken part in every war since old Pons Motier de Lafayette,
the Crusader, fought at Acre, in Palestine, in 1250. Jean fell at
Poictiers in 1356. There was a Claude--exception to the rule that they
died young--who took part in sixty-five sieges and no end of pitched
battles. Though most of them fought on land, there was an occasional
sailor to relieve the monotony; notably a vice-admiral of the reign
of Francis First, who held joint command with Andrea Doria when that
soldier of fortune went to the relief of Marseilles, and who sank or
burned four Spanish galleons in the naval battle at the mouth of the
Var.

But the Lafayette who occupied most space in family tradition and
written history was Gilbert, who was head of the family about the
time Columbus discovered America. It was he who took for motto upon
his coat of arms the words, "_Cur non?_" "Why not?" and by energetic
deeds satisfactorily answered his own question. "Seneschal of the
Bourbonnaise," "Lieutenant-General," "Governor of Dauphigny," and
"Marshal of France" were a few of the titles and honors he gathered
in the course of a long life, for he was another exception to the
family rule. He was eighty-two before he passed away, ready to fight
to the last. Although it is not true that he slew the English Duke of
Clarence with his own hands at the battle of Baugé, it is true that he
[Pg 3]fought under the banner of Joan of Arc at Orléans, and that he
had many adventures on many fields. When there was no foreign enemy
to battle against, he worked hard to subdue the bandits who infested
France and made travel on the highroads more exciting than agreeable to
timid souls in the reign of Charles VII.

In time the Motiers de Lafayette divided into two branches, the elder
keeping the estate and name and most of the glory; the younger, known
as the Motiers of Champetières, enjoying only local renown. The women
of the family also made a place for themselves in history. One, who had
beauty, had also courage and wit to oppose the great Cardinal Richelieu
himself. Another, less known in politics than in literature, though
she tried her hand at both, became famous as a novelist. It was her
grand-daughter who inherited part of the property at a time when there
were no more men of the elder branch to carry on the name. In order
that it might not die out, she arranged to have the estates pass back
to the younger branch, which in time inherited the title also.

The Lafayettes went on fighting and losing their lives early in battle.
Thus it happened that a baby born to a young widow in the grim old
manor-house of Chavaniac on the 6th of September, 1757, was the last
male representative of his race, a marquis from the hour of his birth.
His father had been made Chevalier of the Order of Saint-Louis and
Colonel of Grenadiers at the early age of twenty-two, and fell before
[Pg 4]he was twenty-five, leading his men in an obscure engagement of
the Seven Years' War. This was about a month before his son was born.
His family believed that the gallant colonel's life was sacrificed by
the recklessness of his commanding officer.

According to the old parish register, still preserved, "The very high
and puissant gentleman, Monseigneur Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert
Dumotier de Lafayette, the lawful son of the very high and very
puissant Monseigneur Michel-Louis-Christophe-Roch-Gilbert Dumotier,
Marquis de Lafayette, Baron de Wissac, Seigneur de Saint-Romain and
other places, and of the very high and very puissant lady, Madame
Marie Louise Julie de la Rivière," was baptized in the little parish
church of Chavaniac twenty-four hours after his birth. Besides this
terrifying name and the title, all the traditions and responsibilities
of both branches of the family descended upon his infant shoulders.
Being such a scrap of a baby, however, he was mercifully ignorant
of responsibilities and ancient names. The one given him in baptism
was shortened for daily use to Gilbert, the name of the old Marshal
of France; but a time came when it was convenient to have a number,
rightfully his, from which to choose. For his signature "La Fayette"
covered the whole ground.

His only near relatives were his young mother, his grandmother (a
stately lady of strong character), and two aunts, sisters of his dead
father, who came to live at Chavaniac. It was by this little group of
[Pg 5]aristocratic Frenchwomen that the champion of liberty was brought
up during those early years when character is formed. That he did not
become hopelessly spoiled speaks well for his disposition and their
self-control. He was not a strong baby, and they must have spent many
anxious hours bending over him as he lay asleep, however much they
concealed their interest at other times for fear of doing him moral
harm.

Until he was eleven they all lived together in the gloomy old château
where he was born. This has been described as "great and rather heavy."
It had been fortified in the fourteenth century. Two round towers with
steep, pointed roofs flanked it on the right and left. Across its front
high French windows let in light to the upper floors. From them there
was a far-reaching view over plain and river, and steep hills dotted
with clumps of trees. But loopholes on each side of an inhospitable
narrow doorway told of a time when its situation had been more prized
for defense than for mere beauty of scenery. It had a dungeon and other
grim conveniences of life in the Middle Ages, which must have stamped
themselves deep on the mind of an impressionable child. The castles of
Wissac and Saint-Romain, of which the boy was also lord, could be seen
higher up among the hills. There were glimpses, too, of peasant homes,
but these were neither neat nor prosperous. Bad laws, and abuse of law
that had been going on for centuries, had brought France to a point
where a few people were growing inordinately rich at the expense of all
[Pg 6]the rest. The king suffered from this as well as the peasants.
The country was overrun by an army of tax-collectors, one for every
one hundred and thirty souls in France, each of them bent on giving up
as little as possible of the money he collected. To curry favor with
the great nobles, who were more powerful than the king himself, their
property was not taxed so heavily as it should have been, while poorer
people, especially the peasants, were robbed to make up the difference.
"The people of our country live in misery; they have neither furniture
nor beds; during part of the year the most of them have no nourishment
except bread made of oats and barley, and even this they must snatch
from their own mouths and those of their children in order to pay the
taxes." That was written about this very region of Auvergne a few years
before Lafayette was born. In self-defense the peasants made their
homes look even more wretched than they really were. On occasion, when
convinced that the stranger knocking at their door was no spy, they
could bring a wheaten loaf and a bottle of wine from their secret store
and do the honors most hospitably.

The La Fayettes were not rich, though they were the great people of
their neighborhood. Only one Frenchman in a hundred belonged to the
nobility, but that one received more consideration than all the other
ninety-nine combined. When the boy marquis rode out with his mother,
or that stately lady his grandmother, the peasants in the little
village which had grown up around the walls of Chavaniac, clinging to
it for protection, bowed down as though the child were a sovereign.
[Pg 7]Some of them knelt in the dust as the coach passed by. Truly it
was strange soil for the growth of democratic ideas. It was well for
the boy's soul that in spite of lands and honor the household was of
necessity a frugal one. The wide acres were unproductive. Men who had
fought so often and so well for their princes had found little leisure
to gather wealth for their children. Besides, it was thought out of the
question for a nobleman to engage in gainful pursuits. The wealth such
men enjoyed came through favor at court; and in this household of women
there was no longer any one able to render the kind of service likely
to be noticed and rewarded by a king.

[Illustration: THE MANOR-HOUSE OF CHAVANIAC

Birthplace of Lafayette]

So the lad grew from babyhood in an atmosphere of much ceremony and
very little luxury. On the whole, his was a happy childhood, though by
no means gay. He loved the women who cherished him so devotedly. In his
_Memoirs_, written late in life, he calls them "tender and venerated
relatives." They looked forward to the day when in his turn he should
become a soldier, dreading it, as women will, but accepting it, as
such women do, in the spirit of _noblesse oblige_, believing it the
one possible calling for a young man of his station. To prepare him
for it he was trained in manly exercises, by means of which he outgrew
the delicacy of his earliest years and became tall and strong for his
age. He was trained also in horsemanship, to which he took kindly, for
he loved all spirited animals. In books, to which he did not object,
[Pg 8]though he was never wholly a scholar, he followed such studies as
could be taught him by the kindly Abbé Feyon, his tutor.

On his rides, when he met the ragged, threadbare people who lived among
the hills, they saluted him and looked upon him almost with a sense of
ownership. Was he not one of their Lafayettes who had been fighting
and dying gallantly for hundreds of years? As for him, his friendly,
boyish eyes looked a little deeper through their rags into their
sterling peasant hearts than either he or they realized. In the old
manor-house his day-dreams were all of "riding over the world in search
of reputation," he tells us; a reputation to be won by doing gallant
deeds. "You ask me," we read in his _Memoirs_, "at what time I felt
the earliest longings for glory and liberty. I cannot recall anything
earlier than my enthusiasm for tales of heroism. At the age of eight
my heart beat fast at thought of a hyena which had done some damage
and made even more noise in the neighborhood. The hope of meeting that
beast animated all my excursions." Had the encounter taken place, it
might have been thrilling in the extreme. It might even have deprived
history of a bright page; for it was nothing less than hunger which
drove such beasts out of the woods in winter to make raids upon lonely
farms--even to terrify villagers at the very gates of Chavaniac.


[Pg 9]II

EDUCATING A MARQUIS


The first period of Gilbert's life came to an end when he was eleven
years old. His mother was by no means ignorant of the ways of the world
and she had powerful relatives at court. She realized how much they
could do to advance her boy's career by speaking an occasional word in
his behalf; and also how much truth there is in the old saying "Out
of sight, out of mind." They might easily forget all about her and
her boy if they remained hidden in the provinces. So they went up to
Paris together, and she had herself presented at court and took up her
residence in the French capital, while Gilbert became a student at the
Collège Du Plessis, a favorite school for sons of French noblemen. His
mother's uncle, the Comte de la Rivière, entered his name upon the army
lists as member of a regiment of Black Mousquetaires, to secure him the
benefit of early promotion. He was enrolled, too, among the pages of
Marie Leszczynska, the Polish wife of King Louis XV, but his duties,
as page and soldier, were merely nominal. He does not say a word about
[Pg 10]being page in his _Memoirs_. Of the regiment he merely says that
it served to get him excused from classes when there was to be a parade.

He remained three years at Du Plessis. He found studying according to
rule decidedly irksome, and very different from the solitary lessons at
Chavaniac, where the few rules in force had been made for his benefit,
if not for his convenience. He tells us that he was "distracted from
study only by the desire to study without restraint," and that such
success as he gained was "inspired by a desire for glory and troubled
by the desire for liberty." Sometimes the latter triumphed. It amused
him, when he was old, to recall how, being ordered to write an essay on
"the perfect steed," he sacrificed a good mark and the praise of his
teachers to the pleasure of describing a spirited horse that threw his
rider at the very sight of a whip.

The Collège Du Plessis must have been almost like a monastery. Each
boy had a stuffy little cell into which he was locked at night. No
member of a student's family might cross the threshold, and the many
careful rules for health and diet were quite the opposite of those
now practised. This period of Lafayette's school-days was a time when
men's ideas on a variety of subjects were undergoing vast change. The
old notion that learning was something to be jealously guarded and
made as difficult and disagreeable as possible died hard. It is true
that the good Fénelon, who believed in teaching children to read from
books printed in French instead of in Latin, and who thought it could
[Pg 11]do them no harm if the books were "well bound and gilded on
the edge," had gone to his reward half a century before; but he had
been writing about the education of girls! When Lafayette was only
five years old one Jean Jacques Rousseau had published a fantastic
story called _Émile_, which was nothing in the world but a treatise on
education in disguise. In this he objected to the doctrine of original
sin, holding that children were not born bad; and he reasoned that they
did not learn better nor more quickly for having knowledge beaten into
them with rods. But this man Rousseau was looked upon as an infidel
and a dangerous character. Probably at Du Plessis the discipline and
course of study belonged to the old order of things, though there
were concessions in the way of teaching the young gentlemen manners
and poetry and polite letter-writing, which they would need later in
their fashionable life at court. History as taught them was hopelessly
tangled up in heraldry, being all about the coats of arms and the
quarrels of nobles in France and neighboring countries. When something
about justice and liberty and the rights of the people did creep into
the history lesson the tall young student from Auvergne fell upon it
with avidity. Perhaps it was because of such bits scattered through
the pages of Roman authors that he learned considerable Latin, and
learned it well enough to remember it forty years later, when he found
it useful to piece out his ignorance of German in talking with his
Austrian jailers.

In spite of queer notions about hygiene, like those which bade him
[Pg 12]shut out fresh air from his room at night and avoid the risk of
eating fresh fruit, he grew in body as well as in mind during the years
at Du Plessis, and he had almost reached his man's height of five feet
eleven inches, when one day in 1770 a messenger came to the college,
bringing the news that his mother had just died. A very few days later
her death was followed by that of her father, who was wealthy and had
made the boy his heir. Thus, almost within a week, he found himself
infinitely poorer than he had ever been before, yet very rich, deprived
of those dearest to him and in possession of a large fortune.

People began to take a sudden lively interest in him. The son of a
young widow studying in the Collège Du Plessis was of consequence only
to himself and his mother. But the young Marquis de Lafayette, of such
old and excellent family, such good disposition, such a record in his
studies, such a very large income--above all, a generous young man with
no near relatives to give meddling advice about how he should spend his
money, became fair prey for all the fortune-hunters prowling around the
corrupt court of old Louis XV.

These were many. The king was bored as well as old. His days were
filled with a succession of tiresome ceremonies. A crowd of bowing
courtiers was admitted to his bedroom before he got up in the morning.
Crowds attended him at every turn, even assisting in his toilet at
night. Frederick the Great had said, "If I were king of France, the
first thing I would do would be to appoint another king to hold court
[Pg 13]in my place"! But indolent old Louis had not the energy even to
break down customs which had come to him from the days of kings long
dead. "He cared for nothing in this life except to hunt, and feared
nothing in the life to come except hell." When not hunting, his one
desire was to be let alone to pursue whatever evil fancy entered his
brain.

The people at court had two desires--to flatter the king and to get
money. The first was the surest means to the second. Everybody, good
and bad, seemed in need of money, for the few rich nobles had set a
style of living which not even the king could afford to follow. It
was all part of the same tangle, the result of accidents and crimes
and carelessness extending through many reigns, which had brought
about ever-increasing visits of the tax-collectors and reduced the
peasants to starvation. One after another important concessions had
been given away as a mark of royal favor, or else had been sold
outright. A clever man in the reign of Louis XIV had remarked that
whenever his Majesty created an office the Lord supplied a fool to buy
it. In the reign of his grandson, Louis XV, things were even worse. A
high-sounding official title, carrying with it a merely nominal duty
and some privilege that might be turned into coin, was the elegant way
of overcoming financial difficulty. Even the wax candles burned in
the sconces at Versailles were sold for the benefit of the official
who had charge of their lighting. He saw to it that plenty of candles
were lighted, and that none of them burned too long before going to
swell his income. What the great nobles did lesser ones imitated; and
[Pg 14]so on, down a long line. No wonder that young Lafayette, having
inherited his fortune, became suddenly interesting.

Of course, not everybody was corrupt, even at court. There were people
who could not possibly be classed as fortune-hunters. Even to these
the fact that the young heir was tall and silent and awkward, not
especially popular at school, and not likely to shine in a society
whose standards were those of dancing-school manners and lively wit,
did not weigh for a moment against the solid attraction of his wealth.
To fathers and mothers of marriageable daughters both his moral and
material qualifications appealed. He was barely fourteen years old
when proposals of marriage began to be made in the careful French
way, which assumes that matrimony is an affair to be arranged between
guardians, instead of being left to the haphazard whim of young people.
An early letter of Lafayette's written about this time was partly
upon this subject. It might have been penned by a world-wise man of
thirty. The Comte de la Rivière appears to have been the person to
whom these proposals were first addressed. He, and possibly the Abbé
Feyon, discussed them with Lafayette in a business-like way; and the
young man, not being in love, either with a maid or with the idea
of matrimony, listened without enthusiasm, suggesting that better
matches might be found among the beauties of Auvergne. New duties and
surroundings engrossed him. He had left Du Plessis for the Military
Academy at Versailles, where there was more army and less cloister in
his training; where he spent part of his money upon fine horses and
[Pg 15]lent them generously to friends; and where, for amusement in his
hours of leisure, he could watch the pageant of court life unrolling at
the very gates of the academy. Matrimony could wait.

Among those more interested in providing a wife for him than he was in
finding one for himself was the lively Duc d'Ayen, a rich and important
nobleman, the father of five daughters. The eldest of these was fully a
year younger than Lafayette, while the others descended toward babyhood
like a flight of steps. Even in that day of youthful marriages it
seemed early to begin picking out husbands for them. But there were
five, and the duke felt he could not begin better than by securing
this long-limbed boy for a son-in-law. He suggested either his eldest
daughter, Louise, or the second child, Adrienne, then barely twelve,
as a future Marquise de Lafayette. He did not care which was chosen,
but of course it must be one of the older girls, since the bridegroom
would have to wait too long for the others to grow up. The match was
entirely suitable, and was taken under favorable consideration by the
bridegroom's family; but when it occurred to the duke to mention the
matter to his wife, he found opposition where it was least expected.
Madame d'Ayen absolutely refused her consent. These two were quite
apt to hold different views. The husband liked the luxury of the
court and chuckled over its shams. His wife, on the contrary, was of
a most serious turn of mind and had very little sense of humor. The
frivolities of court life really shocked her. She looked upon riches as
[Pg 16]a burden, and fulfilled the social duties of her position only
under protest as part of that burden. The one real joy of her life lay
in educating her daughters. She studied the needs of their differing
natures. She talked with them much more freely than was then the
custom, and did all in her power to make of them women who could live
nobly at court and die bravely when and wherever their time came.

She had no fault to find with young Lafayette. Her opposition was a
matter of theory and just a little selfish, for her married life had
not been happy enough to make her anxious to see her girls become wives
of even the best young men. As for this Motier lad, she thought him
particularly open to temptation because of his youth and loneliness and
great wealth. He had lacked the benefit of a father's training. So, for
that matter, had her own children. Their father was almost always away
from home.

The duke's airy manner hid a persistent spirit, and, in spite of his
worldliness, he esteemed the good character of the boy. The discussion
lasted almost a year and developed into the most serious quarrel of
their married life. No wonder, under the circumstances, that the duke
did not, as his daughter expressed it, "like his home." The little
girls knew something was wrong, and shared their mother's unhappiness
without guessing the cause. The duke's acquaintances, on the other
hand, to whom the cause was no secret, looked upon the contest of wills
as a comedy staged for their benefit. One of them said in his hearing
that no woman of Madame d'Ayen's strength of character, who had gone
[Pg 17]so far in refusal, would ever consent to the marriage. At this
the duke warmly rushed to the defense of his wife and answered that a
woman of her character, once convinced that she was wrong, would give
in completely and utterly.

That was exactly what happened. After months of critical observation
she found herself liking Lafayette better and better. The duke assured
her that the marriage need not take place for two years, and that
meantime the young man should continue his studies. She gave her
consent and took the motherless boy from that moment into her heart;
while the little girls, sensitive to the home atmosphere, felt the joy
of reconciliation without even yet knowing how nearly it concerned them.

It was decided among the elders that Adrienne, the second daughter, was
to become Madame Lafayette, because the young Vicomte de Noailles, a
cousin to whom Louise had been partial from babyhood, had made formal
proposals for her hand. This cousin was a friend and schoolfellow of
Lafayette's, and during the next few months the youths were given the
opportunity of meeting their future wives apparently by chance while
out walking, and even under the roof of the duke; but for a year
nothing was said to the girls about marriage. Their mother did not
wish to have their minds distracted from their lessons or from that
important event in the lives of Catholic maidens, their first communion.

Two months before her marriage actually took place Louise was told
that she was to be the bride of Noailles; and at the time of that
wedding Adrienne was informed of the fate in store for her. She found
[Pg 18]nothing whatever to question in this. It seemed altogether
delightful, and far simpler than deciding about the state of her own
soul. The truth was that her heart had already begun to feel that love
for Gilbert de Motier which was to grow and become the controlling
factor of her life. Girl-like, her head was just a little turned by
the momentous news of her engagement. Her mother tried to allay her
excitement, but she also took care to let Adrienne know how much she
liked the young man and to repeat to her all the good things she had
found out about him. And to her joy, Adrienne found that Lafayette felt
for the elder lady "that filial affection" which also grew as the years
went on.

How he felt about marriage as the day approached we do not know;
neither do we know the details of the wedding which must have been
celebrated with some splendor on the 11th of April, 1774. The bride was
not yet fifteen, the groom was sixteen. He was given leave of absence
from his regiment, and the newly wedded pair took up their residence in
the wonderful Paris home of Adrienne's family, the Hotel de Noailles.
Although not far from the Tuileries, in the very heart of the city, it
possessed a garden so large that a small hunt could be carried on in
it, with dogs and all. John Adams is authority for this. He visited the
Lafayettes there some time later, and found it unbelievably vast and
splendid.


[Pg 19]III

A NEW KING


Less than a month after their marriage these young people were dressed
in black, as was all the rest of fashionable Paris. The gay spring
season had been brought to a premature and agitated end by the news
that the king lay dead of smallpox, the loathsome disease he most
dreaded.

Smallpox was distressingly common in those days before vaccination had
been discovered; but courageous people protected themselves against it
even then by deliberately contracting the disease from a mild case and
allowing it to run its course under the best possible conditions. It
was found to be much less deadly in this way, though the patients often
became very ill, and it required real courage to submit to it.

The old king had never been at all brave. He feared discomfort in this
life almost as much as he dreaded hell in the next; so he had fled the
disease instead of courting it, and in time it came to have special
terrors for him. He had been riding through the April woods with a
hunting party and had come upon a sad little funeral procession--a very
[Pg 20]humble one. Always curious, he stopped the bearers and asked
who they were carrying to the grave. "A young girl, your Majesty."
The king's watery old eyes gleamed. "Of what did she die?" "Smallpox,
Sire." In terrified anger the monarch bade them begone and bury the
corpse deep; then he dismissed the hunt and returned to the palace. Two
days later he was stricken. The disease ran its course with amazing
virulence, as though taking revenge for his misspent life. Some of the
courtiers fled from Versailles. Others, to whom the king's displeasure
seemed a worse menace than smallpox, remained. His favorites tried
to keep the truth from the public. Daily bulletins announced that he
was getting better. When it was learned that he might die the people
crowded the church of Ste.-Geneviève, the patron saint of Paris,
kissing the reliquary and raising sobs and prayers for his recovery.
When he died, on the 10th of May, his body was hastily covered with
quicklime and conveyed, by a little handful of attendants who remained
faithful, to St.-Denis, where the kings of France lie buried. It was
done without ceremony in the dead of night. Forty days later his bones
were laid in the tomb of his ancestors with all possible funeral pomp.
There was decorous official mourning for the customary length of time;
but the old king had never been an inspiring figure and most of his
subjects were secretly glad he was out of the way.

During July and August of that year Lafayette was "in service" with
the Black Mousquetaires. In September, when his period of active duty
[Pg 21]was over and he could do as he chose, he had himself exposed to
smallpox, and he and his wife and mother-in-law shut themselves up in a
house at Chaillon, hired for the occasion, where during his illness and
convalescence Madame d'Ayen devoted herself to her new son night and
day.

Even while the rafters of Ste.-Geneviève were echoing to sobs and
prayers for the old king's recovery, people whispered under their
breath what they really thought of him; and by the time Lafayette
and his wife could take their places in the world again Louis XV had
been systematically forgotten. His grandson, the new king, was a
well-meaning young man, only three years older than Lafayette. One of
the king's intimates said that the chief trouble with Louis XVI was
that he lacked self-confidence. Marie Antoinette, his queen, was fond
of pleasure, and for four long years, ever since their marriage, they
had been obliged to fill the difficult position of heirs apparent,
hampered by all the restraints of royalty while enjoying precious few
of its privileges. Like every one else, they were anxious to get the
period of mourning well over and to see the real beginning of their
reign, which promised to be long and prosperous. Nobody realized that
the time had come when the sins and abuses of previous reigns must be
paid for, and that the country was on the verge of one of the greatest
revolutions of history.

To outward appearance it was a time of hope. Population was increasing
rapidly; inventions and new discoveries were being made every day.
[Pg 22]"More truths concerning the external world were discovered in
France during the latter half of the eighteenth century than during all
preceding periods together," says Buckle. Even in the lifetime of the
old king it had been impossible to stem the tide of progress: what more
natural than to believe these blessings would continue, now that his
evil influence was removed?

Not only had discoveries been made; they had been brought within the
reach of more people than ever before. About the time Lafayette was
born the first volume of a great book called the _Encyclopedia_ had
made its appearance in the French language, modeled after one already
produced in England. Priests had denounced it; laws had been made
ordering severe penalties for its use. But it was too valuable to be
given up and volume after volume continued to appear. Voltaire wrote an
audacious imaginary account of the way it was used in the palace. The
king's favorite did not know how to mix her rouge; the king's ministers
wanted to learn about gunpowder. The forbidden book was sent for. A
procession of lackeys staggered into the room, bending under the weight
of twenty huge volumes, and everybody found the information desired.
The bit of audacity hid a great truth. The _Encyclopedia_ had brought
knowledge to the people and all were anxious to profit by it.

"The people," however, were not considered by nobles who lived
in palaces. Indeed, they were only beginning to consider
themselves--beginning dimly to comprehend that their day was dawning.
[Pg 23]Two decades would have to pass before they were fully awake,
but the scene was already being set for their great drama. Paris, the
largest city in France, had increased in size one-third during the past
twenty-five years. The old theory had been that too large a town was a
public menace, both to health and to government. Nine times already in
its history the limits of Paris had been fixed and had been outgrown.
It now held between seven hundred thousand and eight hundred thousand
souls. When viewed from the tower of Notre Dame it spread out ten or
twelve miles in circumference, round as an orange, and cut into two
nearly equal parts by the river Seine.

"One is a stranger to one's neighbor in this vast place," a man wrote
soon after this. "Sometimes one learns of his death only by receiving
the invitation to his funeral." "Two celebrated men may live in this
city twenty-five years and never meet." "So many chimneys send forth
warmth and smoke that the north wind is tempered in passing over the
town." Streets were so narrow and houses so high that dwellers on
the lower floors "lived in obscurity"; while elsewhere there were
palaces like the great house belonging to the De Noailles family with
its garden large enough to stage a small hunt. Such gardens were
carefully walled away from the public. These walled-in gardens and the
high, evil-smelling houses in which people lived "three hundred years
behind the times," crowded together and hungry from birth to death,
were equally prophetic of the awakening to come; for the improvements
[Pg 24]celebrated by this writer in describing old Paris were either
of a kind to let light in upon the people or to make conditions more
intolerable for them.

Advertising signs no longer creaked from iron gibbets, threatening to
tumble and crush the passers-by. Spurs as big as cartwheels and the
huge gloves and giant boots which formerly proclaimed the business
carried on under them had been banished or were now screwed securely
to the walls, which gave the streets a clean-shaven appearance. The
candle lanterns that used to splutter and drip and go out, leaving
Paris in darkness, were replaced, on nights when the moon was off duty,
by lamps burning "tripe-oil" and fitted with reflectors. By means of
this brilliant improvement fashionable quarters were almost safe after
nightfall, whereas in former years there had been danger of attack and
robbery, even within pistol-shot of the grand home where Lafayette
went to live after his marriage. In addition to the lights glowing
steadily under their reflectors--one light to every seventy or one
hundred inhabitants--there were many professional lantern-bearers whose
business in life was escorting wayfarers to and from their homes. Paris
after nightfall was atwinkle, for "to live by candle-light is a sign of
opulence."

There was a fire department, newly installed, ready to come on call,
and, strange to say, "it cost absolutely nothing to be rescued."
That, however, was the only cheap thing in Paris. "The poorer one
is the more it costs to live!" was a cry that rose then, as now,
[Pg 25]in all its bitterness. With money anything could be bought.
Voltaire declared that a Roman general on the day of his triumph never
approached the luxury to be found here. Wares came to the city from
the ends of the earth, and Parisians invented new wares of their own.
Somebody had contrived umbrellas like those used in the Orient, except
that these folded up when not in use. Somebody else had invented the
business of renting them at a charge of two liards to gallants crossing
the Pont Neuf who wished to shield their complexions. There were
little stations at each end of the bridge where the money could be
paid or the umbrella given up. Even seasons of the year set no limit
to extravagance in Paris. "A bouquet of violets in the dead of winter
costs two louis (about nine dollars), and some women wear them!"

Water was delivered daily to the tall houses, from carts, by a force of
twenty thousand men, who carried it as high as the seventh floor for
a trifle more than it cost to cross the Pont Neuf under the shade of
an umbrella. Drivers sent their water-carts skidding over the slime,
for the narrow, cobble-paved streets were black with slippery mud.
Coaches and other vehicles swung around corners and dashed along at
incredible speed, while pedestrians fled in every direction. There were
no sidewalks and no zones of safety. The confusion was so great that
dignified travel by sedan-chair had become well-nigh impossible. King
Louis XV once said, "If I were chief of police I would forbid coaches";
but, being only King Louis, he had done nothing. Pedestrians were often
[Pg 26]run down; then there would be even greater confusion for a few
moments, but only the shortest possible halt to traffic. "When on the
pavements of Paris it is easy to see that the people do not make the
laws," said one who had suffered.

These people who suffered in Paris at every turn were now beginning to
find a cyclopedia of their own in another invention of comparatively
recent date--the cafés, warmed and lighted, where even men who had
not sous enough to satisfy their hunger might cheat their stomachs
with a thimbleful of sour wine or a morsel of food, and sit for hours
listening and pondering the talk of others who came and went. There was
much talk, and in one part of Paris or another it touched upon every
known subject. Each café had its specialty; politics in one, philosophy
in another, science in a third. Men of the same cast of mind gravitated
toward the same spot. Cafés had already become schools. Soon they were
to become political clubs. It was a wonderful way to spread new ideas.

Some of the cafés were very humble, some very expensive, but none were
strictly fashionable. To be seen dining in such a place indicated that
a man had no invitations to dinner, so the eighteen or twenty thousand
fops who, curled and perfumed, went from house to house cared little
for cafés. They ate like grasshoppers, through the welcome of one
host on Monday and another on Tuesday, and so down the week, "knowing
neither the price of meat nor of bread, and consuming not one-quarter
of that which was set before them," while thousands went hungry--which
[Pg 27]is the reason that after a time the men in the cafés rose
and took a terrible revenge. Paris was by no means all France, but
whatever Paris did and felt the other towns were doing also; and slowly
but surely the passions animating them would make their way to the
loneliest peasant hut on the remotest edge of the kingdom.

Thus, while the nobles in their gardens still dreamed pleasantly of
the power that was passing from them, the people were slowly rousing
from torpor to resentment. It is well to linger over these conditions
in order to understand fully all that Lafayette's acts meant in the
society in which he moved. He was not one of the twenty thousand fops,
but he belonged to the fortunate class to whom every door seemed open
during the early years of the new reign. His military duties were
agreeable and light, he had plenty of money, a charming wife, powerful
family connections, and he was admitted to the inmost circle at court.
If he had longings to experiment with the democratic theories set forth
by radical authors like Rousseau, even that was not forbidden him.
Their writings had attracted much attention and had already brought
about increased liberality of manners. While the court at Versailles
and the city of Paris were very distinct, Paris being only a huge town
near at hand, the distance between them was but fourteen miles, and
it was quite possible for young men like Lafayette to go visiting, so
to speak, in circles not their own. Lafayette's friend, the Comte de
Ségur, has left a picture of life as the young men of their circle knew
it.

[Pg 28]"Devoting all our time to society, _fêtes_, and pleasure, ... we
enjoyed at one and the same time all the advantages we had inherited
from our ancient institutions, and all the liberty permitted by new
fashions. The one ministered to our vanity, the other to our love of
pleasure. In our castles, among our peasants, our guards, and our
bailiffs, we still exercised some vestiges of our ancient feudal
power. At court and in the city we enjoyed all the distinctions of
birth. In camp our illustrious names alone were enough to raise us to
superior command, while at the same time we were at perfect liberty to
mix unhindered and without ostentation with all our co-citizens and
thus to taste the pleasures of plebeian equality. The short years of
our springtime of life rolled by in a series of illusions--a kind of
well-being which could have been ours, I think, at no other age of the
world."


[Pg 29]IV

AN UNRULY COURTIER


During the winter after Adrienne's marriage the Duchesse d'Ayen took
her two daughters regularly to the balls given each week by the queen,
and after the balls invited the friends of her sons-in-law to supper,
in a pathetically conscientious effort to make the home of the De
Noailles a more agreeable place for the husbands of her children than
it had been for her own. Adrienne inherited much of her mother's
seriousness, but she was young enough to enjoy dancing, and, feeling
that duty as well as inclination smiled upon this life, she was very
happy. In December of that year her first child was born, a daughter
who was named Henriette.

Lafayette tells us in his _Memoirs_ that he did not feel thoroughly
at ease in the gay society Marie Antoinette drew about her. Nor did
the queen altogether approve of him, because of his silence and an
awkwardness which did not measure up to the standards of deportment
she had set for this circle of intimate friends. "I was silent," he
says, "because I did not hear anything which seemed worth repeating;
and I certainly had no thoughts of my own worthy of being put into
[Pg 30]words." Some of his friends, who knew him better than the queen,
realized that there was plenty of fire in him, in spite of his cold
manner and slow speech. De Ségur was one of these, for at some period
of his youth Lafayette, smitten with sudden and mistaken jealousy, had
spent nearly an entire night trying to persuade De Ségur to fight a
duel with him about a beauty for whom De Ségur did not care at all.

Adrienne's family, wishing to do their best by him, tried to secure a
place for him in the household of the prince who afterward became Louis
XVIII. Lafayette did not want to hurt their feelings; neither did he
fancy himself in the rôle they had chosen for him, where he believed
he would be forced to govern his actions by another man's opinions. He
kept his own counsel,but, "in order to save his independence," managed
to have the prince overhear a remark which he made with the deliberate
purpose of angering him. The office was of course given to some one
else, and another bit of ill will went to swell the breezes blowing
over the terraces at Versailles.

There were bitter court factions. Friends of Louis XV had not relished
seeing power slip out of their hands. The queen was an Austrian who
never fully understood nor sympathized with the French. Neither her
critics nor her partizans ever allowed themselves to forget her foreign
birth. King Louis, not having confidence in himself, chose for his
premier M. de Maurepas, who was over eighty, and should therefore have
been a mine of wisdom and experience. Unfortunately, he was the wrong
[Pg 31]man; he was not universally respected, and his white hairs
crowned a pate that was not proof against the frivolities of society.
The younger men were displeased. It was not customary to give young
men positions of importance, but they were sure they could do quite as
well as he. They had their café club also, a place called the Wooden
Sword, where they discussed the most extravagant theories of new
philosophy, reviled old customs, calling them "Gothic," their favorite
term of reproach, and concocted schemes to amuse themselves and tease
their elders. Having nothing serious to occupy them, they turned their
attention to setting new fashions. A series of pageants and dances gave
them excellent opportunity. The admiration they felt for themselves and
one another in the romantic dress of the time of Henri IV made them
resolve to adopt it and force it upon others for daily wear. That the
capes and plumes and love-knots which became their slender figures so
well made older and stouter men look ridiculous was perhaps part of
their malicious intent.

Age made common cause against them, and the youngsters went too far
when they held a mock session of Parliament, one of those grave
assemblages which had taken place in far-off days in France, but had
been almost forgotten since. There was an increasing demand that the
custom be revived, which was not relished by M. de Maurepas and his
kind. When the old premier learned that a prince of the blood had
played the role of President in this travesty, while Lafayette had
been attorney-general and other sprigs of high family figured as [Pg
32]counsel, barristers, and advocates, it was evident that a storm was
brewing. De Ségur went straight to the king and told him the story in
a way that made him laugh. This saved the participants from serious
consequences, but it was agreed that such trifling must stop; and most
of them were packed off to join their regiments.

Lafayette's regiment was stationed at Metz, and he took his way there
feeling much as he had felt when he wrote his school-boy essay on the
"perfect steed." It was the most fortunate journey of his life, for at
the end of it he met his great opportunity. The Duke of Gloucester,
brother of the King of England, was traveling abroad. He came to
Metz, and the military commander of the place, Comte de Broglie, gave
a dinner in his honor to which he invited the chief officers of the
garrison. It was not the only time that a dinner played an important
part in Lafayette's career. Neither Lafayette's age nor his military
rank quite entitled him to such an invitation; but the count had a
kindly spot in his heart for young men. Besides, Adrienne Lafayette was
a kinswoman of his, and he remembered that the father of this tall,
silent lad had served under him in the Seven Years' War.

The guest of honor was not the kind of loyal subject and brother who
could speak no ill of his sovereign. In fact, he and King George
were not on good terms. He had his own views about the troubles in
America, and thought the king quite wrong in his attitude toward the
Colonists. He had lately received letters, and at this dinner discussed
[Pg 33]them with the utmost frankness, explaining the point of view
of the "insurgents" and expressing his belief that they would give
England serious trouble. Possibly Lafayette had never heard of George
Washington until that moment. Certainly he had never considered the
continent of North America except as a vague and distant part of the
earth's surface with which he could have no personal concern. Yet twice
already the names of his family and of America had been linked. The old
marshal who took _Cur non?_ for his motto had lived when the voyage of
Columbus had set the world ringing; and Gilbert de Motier, Lafayette's
own father, had lost his life in the Seven Years' War, by which England
won from France practically all the land she held in the New World.

Slight and remote as these connections were, who can say that they
did not unconsciously influence a spirit inclined toward liberty? The
conversation of the Duke of Gloucester seemed to bring America from
a great distance to within actual reach of Lafayette's hand. He hung
upon every word. The prince may not have been altogether prudent in
his remarks. It was an after-dinner conversation and in that day the
English drank hard. Even so, the duke's indiscretions made the talk
more interesting and, to Lafayette, more convincing. Every word spoken
strengthened the belief that these American Colonists were brave men,
well within their rights, fighting for a principle which would make
the world better and happier. He realized with a thrill that men three
[Pg 34]thousand miles away were not content with mere words, but
were risking their lives at that very moment for the theories which
philosophers had been preaching for a thousand years; the same theories
that orators in six hundred Paris cafés had lately begun to declaim.

Afterward he got permission to ask some of the questions with which
his brain teemed; but long before the candles of that feast had burned
down in their sockets his great resolution was made to "go to America
and offer his services to a people struggling to be free." From that
time on he could think of little else; but, as so often happens with
quick and generous resolutions, the more he thought about it the more
difficult it seemed to carry out. He had exulted at first that he
was his own master with a fortune to dispose of as he chose. Then he
remembered his wife and her family. He knew he could count upon her
loyalty; but he was equally certain that he would meet determined
opposition from the Duc d'Ayen and all his powerful connection, who had
done their worldly best to make him a member of a prince's household.

And disapproval of "the family" in France was not to be lightly
regarded. No serious step could be undertaken by young people without
their elders feeling it their solemn duty to give advice. Very likely
the king and his ministers would also have something to say. "However,"
he wrote in his _Memoirs_, "I had confidence in myself, and dared adopt
as device for my coat of arms the words _Cur non?_ that they might
serve me on occasion for encouragement, or by way of answer."

[Pg 35]He knew almost nothing about America, and, as soon as military
duties permitted, asked leave to go to Paris to make further inquiries,
opening his heart very frankly to the Comte de Broglie. It happened
that the count had vivid dreams of his own about America--dreams
which centered on nothing less than the hope that with proper hints
and encouragement the rebellious colonies might call him (the Comte
de Broglie, of wide military experience) to take supreme command of
their armies and lead them to victory, instead of trusting them to
the doubtful guidance of local talent in the person of this obscure
Col. George Washington. But De Broglie was not minded to confide such
things to the red-haired stripling who looked at him so pleadingly. He
conscientiously tried to dissuade him. "My boy," he said, "I saw your
uncle die in the Italian wars. I witnessed your father's death.... I
will not be accessory to the ruin of the only remaining branch of your
family." But finding arguments made no impression, he gave him the
coveted permission and also an introduction to a middle-aged Bavarian
officer known as the Baron de Kalb. This man had made a voyage to
America in the secret employment of the French government some years
before, and he was even now acting as De Broglie's agent.

Arrived in Paris, Lafayette found the town full of enthusiasm for the
insurgents, or the Bostonians, as they were called. Already English
whist had been abandoned for another game of cards known as _le
Boston_, and soon the authorities might feel it necessary to forbid
[Pg 36]the wearing of a certain style of head-dress called "_aux
insurgents_" and to prohibit talk about American rebels in the cafés.
Secretly the ministers of Louis wished the audacious rebels well,
being convinced that whatever vexed England served to advance the
interests of France, but officially they were strictly neutral. When
Lord Stormont, the British ambassador, complained that agents of the
American government were shipping supplies from French ports, they
made a great show of activity, asked American vessels to leave, and
forbade trade in contraband articles; but they obligingly shut their
eyes to the presence of Silas Deane, the American envoy, in Paris.
Diplomatically speaking, he did not exist, since Louis had not yet
received him; but everybody knew that people of distinction in all
walks of life went secretly to his lodgings.

Lafayette knew not one word of English. Silas Deane knew little, if
any, French, and it was De Kalb who acted as interpreter when the
young nobleman went to call upon him. Liberty, like misery, brings
about strange companionships. Three men more unlike could scarcely
have been found. Although known as "Baron," Johann Kalb was a man of
mystery who had in truth begun life as a butler and had won his place
in the army through sheer merit. He was middle-aged, handsome, and
grave. Silas Deane, the lawyer-merchant from Connecticut, was not only
imperfectly equipped with French, his manners were so unpolished as to
appear little short of repulsive. Lafayette's usual quiet was shaken by
his new enthusiasm. His bearing, which seemed awkward at Versailles,
[Pg 37]was more graceful than the Yankee envoy thought quite moral,
or than the grave soldier of fortune had been able to achieve. And
he was ridiculously young. Even he realized that. "In presenting my
nineteen-year-old face to Mr. Deane," says the _Memoirs_, "I dwelt more
on my zeal than on my experience; but I did make him comprehend that my
departure would cause some little excitement and might influence others
to take a similar step." He could make the family opposition count for
something on his side!

Whatever Silas Deane may have lacked in manner, his wits were not slow.
He instantly saw the advantage of gaining such a convert to his cause.
The two signed an agreement which was a rather remarkable document.
On his part Silas Deane promised Lafayette the rank of major-general
in the Continental Army. But hardened as Deane was to making lavish
promises in the name of the Continental Congress, he knew that a
major-general only nineteen years of age, who had never heard the sound
of a hostile gun, would be received with question rather than with
joy in America, so he added a few words explaining that Lafayette's
"high birth, his connections, the great dignities held by his family
at the court, his disinterestedness, and, above all, his zeal for the
freedom of our Colonies have alone been able to induce me to make this
promise." One would think Lafayette had been haggling, whereas quite
the reverse appears to have been the truth.

[Pg 38]Lafayette wrote: "To the above conditions I agree; and promise
to start when and how Mr. Deane shall judge it proper, to serve the
said states with all possible zeal, with no allowance for private
salary, reserving to myself only the right to return to France whenever
my family or the king shall recall me," and signed his name. After
which he left the house of the American commissioner feeling that
nothing short of all the king's horses and all the king's men could
turn him from his purpose.


[Pg 39]V

LEADING A DOUBLE LIFE


Lafayette found his brother-in-law De Noailles and De Ségur in Paris,
and, certain of being thoroughly understood by these two friends,
confided his plan to them. As he expected, both expressed a wish to
accompany him. The wish may not have been entirely unselfish. Many
young officers in the French army were chafing at the inaction which
ten years of peace had forced upon them, and this chance to distinguish
themselves in war may have appealed to them at first even more strongly
than the justice of the American cause. It certainly added to the
appeal of justice in Lafayette's own case; but meetings with Silas
Deane and his associates, Arthur Lee and Mr. Carmichael, above all,
with Benjamin Franklin, who came to Paris about this time, soon altered
interest to a warmer and less selfish feeling.

These Americans, with their unfashionable clothes, their
straightforward speech, and their simple bearing, with plenty of pride
in it, presented the greatest possible contrast to the curled and
powdered flatterers surrounding Louis XVI. To meet them was like being
met by a breath of fresh, wholesome air. The young men who came under
[Pg 40]their influence fancied that Franklin might almost be a friend
of Plato himself. "What added to our esteem, our confidence, and our
admiration," wrote De Ségur, "were the good faith and simplicity with
which the envoys, disdaining all diplomacy, told us of the frequent
and oft-repeated reverses sustained by their militia, inexperienced as
yet in the art of war." Merely as a sporting proposition it was a fine
thing that they and their army were doing.

De Ségur and De Noailles quietly entered into an agreement with
the Americans, as Lafayette had done. So did others; and it became
impossible to keep their plans secret. When the families of our three
friends learned of their quixotic plan it was clear they would never
consent. De Noailles played a bold card by applying directly to the
War Office for permission to serve as a French officer in the American
army, hoping in this way to match family opposition with official
sanction, but the War Office refused. After that there was nothing to
do but to submit, since they were not men of independent means like
Lafayette, though both were older than he and held higher military
rank. They were dependent upon allowances made them by their respective
families, who thus had a very effective way of expressing disapproval.
All they could do was to assure Lafayette of their sympathy and keep
his secret, for they knew that the opposition which blocked them would
only make him the more determined. The better to carry out his plan,
however, he also pretended to listen to reason and to give up all
thoughts of crossing the Atlantic.

[Pg 41]De Kalb, meanwhile, almost succeeded in leaving France. But
the French government decided that it would be a breach of neutrality
to allow its officers to fight against England, and he was obliged to
turn back. Knowing more about the secret hopes and plans of the Comte
de Broglie than Lafayette knew, he proposed that they go together
to consult him, and they spent several days at the count's country
home. How much Lafayette learned about his host's American dreams is
uncertain, nor does it make much difference in Lafayette's own story.
The two elder men were quite willing to use his enthusiasm to further
their own ends; but he had great need of their help. It was agreed that
the voyage to America must on no account be given up, and that the
best way would be for Lafayette to purchase and fit out a ship. This,
however, was easier said than done. One cannot buy a ship as casually
as a new pair of gloves.

Not only was his family genuinely opposed and his government officially
opposed to his going; England had spies in Paris. It was jestingly said
that all the world passed at least once a day over the Pont Neuf, and
men were supposed to be on watch there, to ascertain who had and who
had not left the city. England, moreover, had agents at every seaport
in northern France. But Bordeaux in the south seemed very far away in
days of stage-coach travel, and consequently was not so well guarded.
As luck would have it, the Comte de Broglie's secretary had a brother
who knew all about ships and merchants in Bordeaux. He found a vessel
[Pg 42]which would do, though she was not very good. Her name could
not be improved upon, for she was called _La Victoire_. Perhaps, like
her new owner, she was able to choose one to fit the occasion. She was
to cost 112,000 francs, one-quarter down, and the rest within fifteen
months of the date of delivery, which was fixed for the middle of
March, 1777.

Weeks before this time arrived very bad news had come from America. The
report ran that Washington had lost practically everything. He had been
defeated in the battles of Long Island and White Plains; New York was
burned, and he and his troops, reduced now to a ragged mob of two or,
at most, three thousand men, were in full retreat across New Jersey,
pursued by thirty thousand British. It was well known that England
was the most powerful military nation of Europe and that, not content
with her own forces, she was hiring regiments of Hessians to send
overseas. Clearly the triumph of such numbers must come speedily. All
society, from Marie Antoinette down, admired the sturdy, independent
Franklin, with his baggy coat and his homely wit. Portraits of him in
his coonskin cap were to be seen in every home. He was a wizard who had
done things with lightning no other mortal had done before, but even he
could not bring success to a hopeless cause.

[Illustration: FRANKLIN AT THE FRENCH COURT

All society, from Marie Antoinette down, admired the sturdy,
independent Franklin, who was always a welcome guest at court]

The prospect must have appeared black indeed to the envoys themselves.
Honorable men that they were, they felt in duty bound to explain the
changed conditions to Lafayette, and not to allow him to ruin his whole
[Pg 43]future because of a promise enthusiastically given. They sent
him a message asking him to come and see them. He knew he was watched
and dared not meet Franklin openly, but he went at once to Silas Deane
and listened to all he had to tell him. When he finished the young
Frenchman thanked him for his very frank statement of a bad situation
and then made a very frank statement in return. "Heretofore," he said,
"I have been able to show you only my willingness to aid you in your
struggle. The time has now come when that willingness can be put to
effective use, for I am going to buy a ship and take your officers out
in it. Let us not give up our hope yet; it is precisely in the time
of danger that I wish to share whatever fortune may have in store for
you." After that it would have required superhuman unselfishness on the
part of the Americans to dissuade him.

How transactions which covered three months of time, two-thirds of
the length of France, and involved so many individuals remained
undiscovered is a mystery unless we assume that the opposition of the
government was more feigned than real. Officials appear to have closed
their eyes most obligingly whenever possible.

To divert suspicion from himself, Lafayette occupied several weeks
in a visit to England which had been arranged long before. Franklin
and Deane were most anxious to have him carry out this plan to visit
the French ambassador in London. So Lafayette crossed the Channel and
spent three weeks in the smoky city, where he received many social
[Pg 44]courtesies. He appears to have enjoyed this season of gaiety
much better than similar occasions at home. The necessity for hiding
his plans gave zest to meetings and conversations that would otherwise
have been commonplace enough, while the necessity for remaining true to
his ideals of conduct--of continuing to be a guest and not a spy in an
enemy country--exercised his conscience as well as his wit. It became a
humorous adventure to dance at Lord Germain's in the same set with Lord
Rawdon, just back from New York, and to encounter between acts at the
opera General Clinton, against whom he was soon to fight at Monmouth.
When presented to his Majesty George III he replied to that monarch's
gracious hope that he intended to make a long stay in London, with an
answer at once guarded and misleading. The king inquired what errand
called him away, and Lafayette answered, with an inward chuckle, that
if his Majesty knew he would not wish him to remain! Although taking
good care not to betray his plans, he made no secret of his interest
in the Colonists or his belief in the justice of their cause; and he
avoided visiting seaport towns where expeditions were being fitted
out against them, and declined all invitations likely to put him in a
position to obtain information to which, under the circumstances, he
felt he had no right.

Before leaving London he wrote a long letter to his father-in-law, to
be delivered only when he was safely on his way to Bordeaux. Then he
crossed to France, but instead of going to his own home took refuge
[Pg 45]with De Kalb at Chaillot, a suburb of Paris. Here he remained
three days, making final preparations. On one of these days he appeared
very early before the sleepy, astonished eyes of his friend De Ségur,
sent away the servant, closed the door of the bedroom with great care,
and hurled the bombshell of his news: "I am going to America. Nobody
knows it, but I am too fond of you to leave without telling you my
secret." Then he gave him the outline of his plan, including the port
from which he was to sail and the names of the dozen French officers
who were to accompany him. "Lucky dog! I wish I were going with you!"
was the substance of De Ségur's answer, but it had not the usual ring
of sincerity. De Ségur was about to marry a young aunt of Adrienne
Lafayette's and his wedding-day was drawing very near.

Lafayette managed to impart his secret to De Noailles also, but he
left Paris without a farewell to Adrienne. The one hard thing in this
hurried departure was that he did not dare to see or even to write
directly to her. She was not well; and, besides the risk of arrest
involved in visiting her, the interview could only be unnerving and
distressing on both sides. The letter he wrote from London to her
father appears to have been the nearest to a direct message, and that,
it must be confessed, contained no mention of her name and no word
exclusively for her. It was her mother, the upright Madame d'Ayen, who
broke the news of his departure, tempering the seeming cruelty of his
conduct with words of praise for his pluck and for the motive which
[Pg 46]prompted him to act as he did. Madame d'Ayen was the only one
of the immediate family who had a good word for the runaway. The young
wife clung to her, appalled at the anger of her father. The duke was
furious, and once more the worthy pair came to the verge of quarrel
over this well-meaning young man. The count could see only madcap folly
in exchanging an assured position at the French court for the doubtful
honor of helping a lot of English farmers rebel against their king. For
a few days the town buzzed with excitement. Lafayette's acquaintances
were frankly astonished that the cold and indifferent young marquis
had roused himself to such action, and thought it exceedingly "chic"
that he should "go over to be hanged with the poor rebels." They were
indignant at the bitterness of the duke's denunciation. One lady with a
sharp tongue said that if he treated Lafayette so, he did not deserve
to find husbands for the rest of his daughters.

The runaway was safely out of Paris, but by no means out of danger. The
Duc d'Ayen, who honestly felt that he was bringing disgrace upon the
family, bestirred himself to prevent his sailing, and had a _lettre de
cachet_ sent after him. A _lettre de cachet_ was an official document
whose use and abuse during the last hundred years had done much to
bring France to its present state of suppressed political excitement.
It was an order for arrest--a perfectly suitable and necessary document
when properly used. But men who had power, and also had private ends to
gain, had been able to secure such papers by the hundreds with spaces
[Pg 47]left blank wherein they could write whatever names they chose.
It was a safe and deadly and underhand way of satisfying grudges. In
Lafayette's case its use was quite lawful, because he was captain in a
French regiment, leaving the country in disobedience to the wish of his
sovereign, to fight against a nation with whom France was on friendly
terms. Technically he was little better than a deserter. When such
conduct was brought to official notice, only one course was possible.
The _lettre de cachet_ was sent, a general order was issued forbidding
French officers to take service in the American colonies, and directing
that if any of them, "especially the Marquis de Lafayette," reached
the French West Indies on such an errand he should forthwith return to
France. Word was also sent to French seaports to keep a close watch
upon vessels and to prevent the shipment of war materials to North
America. Lafayette's friends became alarmed at all this activity and
feared that it might have serious consequences not only for him, but
for themselves. Officials began to receive letters from them calculated
to shift the blame from their own shoulders, as well as to shield the
young man. The French ambassador to England, whose guest he had been in
London, was particularly disturbed, but felt somewhat comforted when he
learned that a high official in the French army had asked King George
for permission to fight as a volunteer under General Howe. This in a
manner offset Lafayette's act, and England could not accuse France of
partiality if her officers were to be found engaged on both sides.


[Pg 48]VI

A SEA-TURN


Lafayette, meanwhile, was traveling southward with De Kalb. The
government does not appear to have interested itself in De Kalb, who
had a two years' furlough, obtained probably through the influence of
the Comte de Broglie. At the end of three days they reached Bordeaux.
Here they learned about the commotion Lafayette's departure had caused
and that the king's order for his arrest was on the way. That it did
not travel as speedily as the rumor seems to prove that Lafayette's
friends were using all possible official delay to give him ample
warning. He made good use of the time and succeeded in getting _La
Victoire_ out of Bordeaux to the Spanish harbor of Los Pasajes in the
Bay of Biscay, just across the French frontier.

It was in leaving Bordeaux that Lafayette found a use for his many
names. Each passenger leaving a French port was required to carry
with him a paper stating his name, the place of his birth, his age,
and general appearance. The one made out by a port official not
over-particular in spelling described him as "Sr. Gilbert du Mottie,
Chevalier de Chaviallac--age twenty years, tall, and blond." This was
[Pg 49]all true except that his age was made a little stronger and the
color of his hair a little weaker than facts warranted. His age was
nineteen years and six months and his hair was almost red. He was the
Chevalier de Chavaniac, though it is doubtful if one acquaintance in a
hundred had ever heard the title.

When he stepped ashore at Los Pasajes he was confronted by two officers
who had followed from Bordeaux by land with the _lettre de cachet_.
Letters from his family and from government officials also awaited him:
"terrible letters," he called them. Those from his family upbraided
him bitterly; the Ministry accused him of being false to his oath
of allegiance. The _lettre de cachet_ peremptorily ordered him to
Marseilles to await further instructions. He knew that this meant to
await the arrival of his father-in-law, who was about to make a long
journey into Italy and would insist upon Lafayette accompanying him,
that he might keep an eye upon his movements.

He was now in Spain, quite beyond the reach of French law, but he could
not bring himself to actual disobedience while there was the remotest
chance of having these commands modified; so he went back with the
messengers to Bordeaux, and from there sent letters by courier to
Paris, asking permission to return and present his case in person.
De Kalb remained with the ship at Los Pasajes, impatient and not a
little vexed. He foresaw a long delay, if indeed the expedition ever
started. _La Victoire_ could not sail without its owner, or at least
[Pg 50]without the owner's consent. De Kalb thought Lafayette had acted
very foolishly; he should either have given up entirely or gone ahead
regardless of the summons, Also he felt that the young man had not been
quite frank; that in talking with him he had underestimated the family
opposition. "Had he told me in Paris all that he has admitted since,"
De Kalb wrote to his wife, "I would have remonstrated most earnestly
against the whole scheme. As it is, the affair will cost him some
money." Then, having freed his mind of his accumulated impatience, he
added, "But if it be said that he has done a foolish thing, it may be
answered that he acted from the most honorable motives and that he can
hold up his head before all high-minded men."

In Bordeaux Lafayette had presented himself before the commandant and
made declaration that he alone would be answerable for the consequences
of his acts; then he had set himself, with all the patience he could
muster, to wait the return of his messenger. To his formal request he
received no reply. From private letters he learned that he had only
the Duc d'Ayen to thank for the _lettre de cachet_. Officials had been
heard to say that they would have taken no notice of his departure had
it not been for the duke's complaint. This convinced him that there was
nothing to be gained by waiting; so he wrote to M. de Maurepas that
he interpreted his silence to be consent, "and with this pleasantry,"
as he says in the _Memoirs_, disappeared from Bordeaux. He informed
the commandant that he was going to Marseilles in obedience to orders,
[Pg 51]and sent the same message to De Kalb, adding the significant
hint, however, that he had not given up hope, and the request that De
Kalb look after his interests. He, indeed, set out by post-chaise on
the road to Marseilles in company with the Vicomte de Mauroy, a young
officer who like himself held one of Silas Deane's commissions. They
left that road, however, at the first convenient opportunity and turned
their horses directly toward Spain. They also made slight changes in
their traveling arrangements, after which De Mauroy sat in the chaise
alone, while Lafayette, dressed like a postilion, rode one of the
horses. The commandant, having his own suspicions, sent some officers
riding after them.

At a little town near the frontier, called Saint-Jean-de-Luz, it was
necessary to change horses. The masquerading post-boy threw himself
down to rest in the stable while the gentleman in the chaise attended
to the essential business. It was here that an inquisitive daughter
of the innkeeper, who evidently knew a good deal about postilions,
recognized in the youth stretched upon the straw the young gentleman
she had seen riding in state in the other direction only a few days
before. Her eyes and mouth opened in wonder, but a sign from Lafayette
checked the exclamation upon her lips, and when the officers rode up a
very demure but very positive young woman set them on the wrong trail.

On the 17th of April Lafayette rejoined De Kalb at Los Pasajes, and on
Sunday, April 20, 1777, _La Victoire_ set sail for America. In addition
[Pg 52]to the captain and crew, De Kalb, the owner of the vessel, and
De Mauroy, she had on board about a dozen officers of various grades,
all of whom were anxious to serve in the Continental Army. The French
government took no further measures to interfere. Grave matters of
state nearer home claimed its attention; and, since signs of coming
war with England grew plainer every day, it may have been well content
to see this band of officers already enlisted against her. M. de
Vergennes, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, was quoted as saying that
the young man had run away again, and he would take good care this time
not to mention the matter to the king.

After six months of effort Lafayette was at last under way. The ship's
papers had been made out for the West Indies; but inconvenient orders
might be awaiting him there, so he ordered the captain to sail directly
for the mainland. The captain demurred, explaining that an English
cruiser could take them prisoners and confiscate their cargo if their
course and their papers did not agree. As owner of the vessel Lafayette
repeated his orders; he even threatened to depose the captain and put
the second officer in command. But the captain's unwillingness appeared
so extraordinary that he was moved to investigate farther, and found
that the thrifty man had smuggled merchandise aboard to the value of
$8,000 which he hoped to sell at a profit. Lafayette felt that it was
not a time to be over-particular. He promised to make good whatever
loss the captain might sustain, whereupon nervousness about English
cruisers left him and he steered as directed.

[Pg 53]It proved a long voyage. _La Victoire_ was at sea fifty-five
dreary days, and Lafayette speedily fell a victim to the rollers
of the Atlantic; but he wrote to his wife he "had the consolation
vouchsafed to the wicked of suffering in company with many others."
When he recovered he began to study English, in which he made
considerable progress. He also studied military science as something
about which it might be convenient for a major-general to know; and he
wrote interminable pages to Adrienne, full of love, of ennui, and of
whimsical arguments to prove that he had done the wisest thing, not
only for his career, but for his health and safety, in offering his
sword to the Continental Army.

"I have been ever since my last letter to you in the most dismal of
countries," he wrote after he had been out a month. "The sea is so
wearisome, and I believe we have the same doleful influence upon each
other, it and I." "One day follows another, and, what is worse, they
are all alike. Nothing but sky and nothing but water; and to-morrow it
will be just the same." "I ought to have landed before this, but the
winds have cruelly opposed me. I shall not see Charleston for eight or
ten days longer. Once I am there, I have every hope of getting news
from France. I shall learn then so many interesting details, not only
of what I am going to find before me, but above all of what I left
behind me with such regret. Provided I find that you are well, and
that you still love me, and that a certain number of our friends are
in the same condition, I shall accept philosophically whatever else
[Pg 54]may be." "How did you take my second departure? Did you love me
the less? Have you forgiven me? Have you thought that in any event we
should have been separated, I in Italy dragging along a life with no
chance to distinguish myself and surrounded by people most hostile to
my projects and my views?" "Consider the difference.... As the defender
of that liberty which I adore, free myself beyond all others, coming
as a friend to offer my services to this most interesting republic, I
bring ... no selfish interests to serve. If I am striving for my own
glory I am at the same time laboring for its welfare. I trust that for
my sake you will become a good American; it is a sentiment made for
virtuous hearts." "Do not allow yourself to feel anxiety because I am
running great danger in the occupation that is before me. The post of
major-general has always been a warrant of long life--so different
from the service I should have had in France as colonel, for instance.
With my present rank I shall only have to attend councils of war. Ask
any of the French generals, of which there are so many because, having
attained that rank, they run no further risk.... In order to show that
I am not trying to deceive you I will admit that we are in danger at
this moment, because we are likely at any time to be attacked by an
English vessel, and we are not strong enough to defend ourselves. But
as soon as I land I shall be in perfect safety. You see that I tell you
everything in order that you may feel at ease and not allow yourself
to be anxious without cause.... But now let us talk of more important
[Pg 55]things," and he goes on to write about their baby daughter,
Henrietta, and about the new baby, the announcement of whose birth he
expected to receive very soon after landing. "Do not lose a moment in
sending me the joyful news," he commands. "Mr. Deane and my friend
Carmichael will aid you in this, and I am sure they would neglect no
opportunity to make me happy as quickly as possible.... Adieu. Night
coming on obliges me to stop, for I have lately forbidden the use of
lights aboard the ship. See how careful I am!" He could afford to
dwell on perils of the voyage, since these would be safely over before
the missive could start on its way back to France. The danger was by
no means imaginary. One of the letters written at the time Lafayette's
departure was the talk of Paris, by a man who knew whereof he spoke,
had said, "His age may justify his escapade, but I am truly sorry,
not only for the interest you and the Duc d'Ayen have in the matter,
but because I am afraid he may fall in with some English man-of-war,
and, not being distinguished from the mass of adventurers who come
into their hands, may be treated with a harshness not unknown to that
nation."

_La Victoire_ was a clumsy boat armed with only "two old cannon and
a few muskets" and stood small chance if attacked. Lafayette was
perfectly aware of this, and had no intention of being taken alive. He
entered into an agreement with one of the company, a brave Dutchman
named Bedaulx, to blow up the vessel as a last resort, the pleasant
alternative in any case being hanging. So, with a sailor pledged to
[Pg 56]ignite a few powder-kegs and the captain steering the ship by
constraint rather than by desire, the long voyage was not devoid of
thrills. These increased as they neared land. At forty leagues from
shore _La Victoire_ was overhauled by a little vessel. "The captain
grew pale," Lafayette tells us; but the crew was loyal and the officers
were numerous and they put up a show of defense. She proved to be an
American and so much the faster boat that she was soon out of sight,
though _La Victoire_ tried hard to keep up with her. Scarcely was she
gone when the lookout sighted two English frigates. With these they
played a game of hide-and-seek until they were saved by a providential
gale which blew the enemy out of his course long enough to enable _La
Victoire_ to run into shelter near Georgetown, South Carolina.


[Pg 57]VII

AN AMERICAN PILGRIMAGE


The bit of land to which that unneutral north wind had wafted the
travelers was an island about fifteen miles from Georgetown, South
Carolina. Nobody on _La Victoire_ knew the coast, so it was prudently
decided to reconnoiter in a small boat. Lafayette, with De Kalb and
two or three other officers and a few sailors, started off about two
o'clock on the afternoon of June 13th, in the ship's yawl, and rowed
until sunset without encountering a soul. After the sun went down they
continued to row on and on, still in complete solitude, until about ten
o'clock, when they came upon some negroes dredging for oysters.

Thus the first human beings that Lafayette encountered in the land of
the free were slaves; and it was not the least picturesque coincidence
of his picturesque career that these ignorant creatures rendered him a
service, instead of his helping them. Also it is rather amusing that
this knight errant of noble lineage, who had come so far to fight
for freedom, should have made his entry into America in the dead of
[Pg 58]night, in an evil-smelling oyster-boat, instead of with pomp and
ceremony from the ship his wealth had provided.

Neither Frenchmen nor slaves could understand the speech of the others
except in a vague way. The Frenchmen thought the slaves said there was
a pilot somewhere on the island. They seemed to be offering to take
them to the house of their master, an American officer; and as the tide
had fallen and it was impossible to proceed farther in the yawl, they
transferred themselves to the oyster-boat and gave themselves up to
these mysterious guides. For two hours the blacks ferried them through
the darkness. About midnight they saw a light, and soon were put ashore
to make their way toward it. It was evident that their approach caused
excitement. Dogs began to bark and the inmates of the large house from
which the light shone appeared to be making preparations for a siege.
A sharp challenge rang out, which indicated that they were mistaken
for marauders from some British ship. De Kalb replied in his most
polite English, explaining that they were French officers come to
offer their swords to the Continental Army. Then, with the swiftness
of a transformation in a fairy play, they found themselves in a glow
of light, the center of warm interest, and being welcomed with true
Southern hospitality. No wonder that ever after Lafayette had the
kindest possible feelings for African slaves.

Mid-June in Carolina is very beautiful; and it must have seemed a
wonderful world upon which he opened his eyes next morning. Outside
his window was the green freshness of early summer; inside the
[Pg 59]immaculate luxury of a gentleman's bedchamber--both doubly
delightful after seven cramped weeks at sea. That the smiling blacks
who came to minister to his wants were bondmen, absolutely at the mercy
of their masters, and that the filmy gauze curtains enveloping his bed
had been put there to prevent his being eaten alive by those "gnats
which cover you with large blisters," about which he afterward wrote
Adrienne, were drawbacks and inconsistencies he hardly realized in that
first blissful awakening. He was always more inclined to enthusiasm
than to faultfinding, and nothing that ever happened to him in America
effaced the joy of his first impression.

His host proved to be Major Benjamin Huger, of French Huguenot descent,
so he had fallen among people of his own nation. Had Major Huger been
one of his own relatives he could not have been kinder or his family
more sympathetic; and it was a sympathy that lasted long, for in the
group around the French officers was a little lad of five who took
small part in the proceedings at the moment, but lost his heart to
the tall Frenchman then and there, and made a quixotic journey in
Lafayette's behalf after he was grown.

The water was too shallow to permit _La Victoire_ to enter the harbor
at Georgetown, so a pilot was sent to take her to Charleston while
Lafayette and his companions went by land. The reports he received
about vigilant English cruisers made him send his captain orders to
land officers and crew and burn the ship if occasion arose and he had
[Pg 60]time; but another unneutral wind brought _La Victoire_ into
Charleston Harbor in broad daylight without encountering friend or foe.

Major Huger furnished Lafayette and De Kalb with horses for the
ninety miles and more of bad roads that lay between his plantation
and Charleston. The others, for whom no mounts could be found, made
the distance on foot, arriving ragged and worn. But as soon as the
city knew why they had come, its inhabitants vied with one another
in showering attentions upon them. One of his companions wrote that
the marquis had been received with all the honors due to a marshal of
France. Lafayette, who sent a letter to his wife by every ship he found
ready to sail, was eloquent in praise of Charleston and its citizens.
It reminded him of England, he said, but it was neater, and manners
were simpler. "The richest man and the poorest are upon the same social
level," he wrote, "and although there are some great fortunes in
this country, I defy any one to discover the least difference in the
bearing of one man to another." He thought the women beautiful, and
Charlestonians the most agreeable people he had ever met. He felt as
much at ease with them as though he had known them for twenty years;
and he described a grand dinner at which the governor and American
generals had been present, which lasted five hours. "We drank many
healths and spoke very bad English, which language I am beginning to
use a little. To-morrow I shall take the gentlemen who accompany me to
call upon the governor, and then I shall make preparations to leave."

[Pg 61]He hoped to provide funds for the journey to Philadelphia by
selling certain goods he had brought on _La Victoire_. It would have
been easy to do this had not his trustful nature and ignorance of
business played him a sorry turn. He found that his unwilling friend,
the captain, held a note which he had signed in a hurry of departure
without realizing what it contained. It provided that the vessel and
cargo must be taken back to Bordeaux and sold there. This was most
embarrassing, because, in spite of his large possessions in France, he
was a stranger in America and had no other way of providing for the
immediate wants of himself and his companions. It proved even more
embarrassing than at first seemed likely, for the ship never reached
Bordeaux. She was wrecked on the Charleston bar at the very outset of
her homeward voyage.

In his enthusiasm Lafayette had written Adrienne, "What delights me
most is that all citizens are brothers." Here unexpectedly was a chance
to put the brotherly quality to the test. He carried his dilemma to his
new-found friends. They were polite and sympathetic, but ready money
was scarce, they told him, and even before _La Victoire_ came to her
inglorious end he experienced "considerable difficulty" in arranging
a loan. Whatever temporary jolt this gave his theories, his natural
optimism triumphed both in securing money to equip his expedition and
in preserving intact his good will toward the American people.

By the 25th of June everything was ready and his company set out,
[Pg 62]traveling in three different parties, in order not to overcrowd
the inns of that sparsely settled region. The gentlemen who had
been entertained by Major Huger traveled together. One of them, the
Chevalier du Buisson, wrote an account of the journey which explains
the order in which they set forth. "The aide-de-camp of the marquis
undertook to be our guide, although he had no possible idea of the
country.... The procession was headed by one of the marquis's people
in huzzar uniform. The marquis's carriage was a sort of uncovered sofa
on four springs, with a fore-carriage. At the side of his carriage
he had one of his servants on horseback who acted as his squire. The
Baron de Kalb was in the same carriage. The two colonels, Lafayette's
counselors, followed in a second carriage with two wheels. The third
was for the aides-de-camp, the fourth for the luggage, and the rear was
brought up by a negro on horseback."

According to Lafayette's reckoning, they traveled nearly nine hundred
miles through the two Carolinas, Virginia, and the states of Maryland
and Delaware. But only a small part of the progress was made in such
elegance. Roads were rough and the weather was very hot, which was
bad for men and horses alike. Some of the company fell ill; some of
the horses went lame; some of the luggage was stolen; some of it had
to be left behind. Extra horses had to be bought, and this used up
most of the money. On the 17th of July Lafayette wrote to Adrienne
from Petersburg: "I am at present about eight days' journey from
Philadelphia in the beautiful land of Virginia.... You have learned of
[Pg 63]the beginning of my journey and how brilliantly I set out in a
carriage.... At present we are all on horseback, after having broken up
the wagons in my usual praiseworthy fashion; and I expect to write you
in a few days that we have arrived on foot." He admitted that there had
been some fatigue, but as for himself he had scarcely noticed it, so
interested had he been in the great new country with its vast forests
and large rivers; "everything, indeed, to give nature an appearance of
youth and of majesty." "The farther north I proceed the better I like
this country and its people."

There was no regularity about sending mail across the Atlantic, and as
yet he had not heard from home. Doubtless the hope of finding letters
spurred on his desire to reach Philadelphia. From Annapolis he and De
Kalb alone were able to proceed without a halt, leaving the rest of the
party behind for needed repose. They reached Philadelphia on July 27th.
Even with this final burst of speed they had consumed a whole month in
a journey that can now be made in less than twenty-four hours.


[Pg 64]VIII

AN ASTONISHING RECEPTION


All Lafayette's company had been looking forward to their reception
by Congress as full recompense for sufferings by the way. Knowing
that they had come to offer help, and having already experienced the
hospitality of Charleston, they dreamed of a similar welcome increased
and made more effective by official authority. They hastened to present
their letters of introduction and their credentials; and it was a
great blow to find that they were met, not with enthusiasm, but with
coldness. Lafayette said their reception was "more like a dismissal."
We are indebted to the Chevalier du Buisson for an account of this
unexpected rebuff. "After having brushed ourselves up a little we went
to see the President of Congress, to whom we presented our letters
of recommendation and also our contracts. He sent us to Mr. Moose
[Morris?], a member of Congress, who made an appointment to meet us
on the following day at the door of Congress, and in the mean time
our papers were to be read and examined." Next day they were very
punctual, but were made to wait a long time before "Mr. Moose" appeared
[Pg 65]with a Mr. Lovell and told them all communication must be made
through him. Still standing in the street, Mr. Lovell talked with
them and finally walked away and left them, "after having treated us
in excellent French, like a set of adventurers.... This was our first
reception by Congress, and it would have been impossible for any one to
be more stupefied than we were. Would it have been possible for M. de
Lafayette, M. de Kalb, and M. de Mauroy with ten officers recommended
as we had been, and secretly approved, if not openly avowed by the
government of France, to expect such a reception as this?"

One can imagine the varying degrees of resentment and disgust with
which they watched Mr. Lovell disappear. If _La Victoire_ had been
there, ready provisioned for a voyage, very likely not one of them
would have remained an hour longer in America. But _La Victoire_ was
not at hand and Lafayette's sunny optimism was on the spot to serve
them well. "We determined," says Du Buisson, "to wait and to discover
the cause of this affront, if possible, before making any complaint."

They discovered that they had come at the worst possible time. A
number of foreign adventurers had hurried from the West Indies and
Europe and offered their services at the beginning of the war. Being
desperately in need of trained officers, Congress had given some of
them commissions, though their demands for rank and privilege were
beyond all reason. This, coupled with their bad behavior after entering
the army, had incensed officers of American birth, who threatened to
[Pg 66]resign if any more Europeans were taken into the army with rank
superior to their own. The protest had reached almost the proportions
of a strike. At that very moment a French artillery officer named De
Coudray was giving Congress no end of trouble, and indeed continued to
do so until, "by a happy accident," as Franklin cynically put it, he
was drowned in the Schuylkill River a few weeks later.

There was nothing to prove that Lafayette and his friends differed
from the rest. Like them they were foreigners with high-sounding
titles in front of their names and requests for major-generalships
tripping speedily after their offers of help. As for Silas Deane's
contracts--Deane had commissioned some of the very worst of these men.
Congress had reached the point where it proposed to end the trouble by
refusing to honor any more of his agreements. Mr. Lovell told Lafayette
and his companions smartly that French officers had a great fancy for
entering the American army uninvited, that America no longer needed
them, having plenty of experienced men of her own now; and walked away,
leaving them standing there in the street.

Lafayette, not being like the others, determined to make Congress aware
of the fact. He wrote a letter to that august body, stating why and
how he had come to America, and adding: "After the sacrifices that I
have made in this cause I have the right to ask two favors at your
hands. The one is to serve without pay, and the other that I be allowed
to serve first as a volunteer." Congress immediately sat up and took
[Pg 67]notice of the young man, the more readily because of two letters
which arrived from Paris showing that he was of importance in his own
country. The first was signed by Silas Deane and by Benjamin Franklin,
and read:

"The Marquis de Lafayette, a young nobleman of great family connection
here and great wealth, is gone to America on a ship of his own,
accompanied by some officers of distinction, in order to serve in our
armies. He is exceedingly beloved, and everybody's good wishes attend
him. We cannot but hope he may meet with such a reception as will make
the country and his expedition agreeable to him. Those who censure
it as imprudent in him do, nevertheless, applaud his spirit; and we
are satisfied that the civilities and respect that may be shown him
will be serviceable to our affairs here, as pleasing not only to his
powerful relations, and to the court, but to the whole French nation.
He leaves a beautiful young wife ... and for her sake particularly we
hope that his bravery and ardent desire to distinguish himself will be
a little restrained by the general's prudence, so as not to permit his
being hazarded much, but on some important occasion." The other was a
communication from the French government requesting the Congress of the
United States not to give employment to the Marquis de Lafayette. But
Congress took the hint contained in Franklin's letter and regarded this
for just what it was--a bit of official routine.

Mr. Lovell hastened to call upon Lafayette in company with another
gentleman who had better manners, and made an attempt at apology. This
[Pg 68]interview led to a more private talk in which he was offered
a commission of major-general without pay and without promise of a
command, to date from that time, and to have no connection whatever
with Silas Deane's former promises. To this Lafayette agreed.

Some of his friends did not fare so well, but even these felt that he
did everything in his power to further their interests. "If he had had
his way," says Du Buisson, "De Kalb would have been a major-general,
and we should all have had places." The situation was particularly
trying to De Kalb, who was so much older and had seen so much actual
military service. On board _La Victoire_ he had been only Lafayette's
guest, though the guest of honor and, next to the owner, the most
important person aboard. Under such conditions, good manners forced him
to play a subordinate part; and if it be true that he and De Broglie
were using Lafayette's generosity to further their own ends, that was
another reason for circumspect behavior. But after landing it must have
been galling to see this young captain of twenty made a major-general
"on demand," while his thirty-four years of experience were completely
ignored. On the day after Lafayette's appointment De Kalb wrote
Congress a letter in his turn, complaining bitterly and asking either
that he be made a major-general, "with the seniority I have a right to
expect," or that he and the other officers who had come with Lafayette
be refunded the money they had spent on the journey. He said he was
very glad Congress had granted Lafayette's wishes. "He is a worthy
[Pg 69]young man, and no one will outdo him in enthusiasm in your cause
of liberty and independence. My wish will always be that his success
as a major-general will equal his zeal and your expectation." But De
Kalb plainly had his doubts; and he did not hesitate to "confess,
sir, that this distinction between him and myself is painful and very
displeasing to me. We came on the same errand, with the same promises,
and as military men and for military purposes. I flatter myself that
if there was to be any preference, it would be due to me." He hinted
that he might sue Mr. Deane for damages, and he added: "I do not think
that either my name, my services, or my person are proper objects to
be trifled with or laughed at. I cannot tell you, sir, how deeply I
feel the injury done to me, or how ridiculous it seems to me to make
people leave their homes, families, and affairs, to cross the sea under
a thousand different dangers, to be received and to be looked at with
contempt by those from whom you were to expect but warm welcome."

Congress could have answered with perfect justice that it had not
"made" these gentlemen travel one foot toward America or brave a
single danger. But on the basis of Deane's contract it was clearly
in the wrong and it had no wish to insult France, though it could
not afford to anger the American generals. It therefore decided to
thank the French officers for their zeal in coming to America and to
pay their expenses home again. Most of them did return, some by way
of Boston, others from Southern ports. De Kalb meant to accompany
the latter group, but a fever detained him for several weeks in [Pg
70]Philadelphia; and just as he was leaving a messenger brought him
word that he had been made major-general through the influence of
several members of Congress who had made his personal acquaintance and
were more impressed by the man himself than by his petulant letter.
At first he was inclined to refuse, fearing the other French officers
might feel he had deserted them, but on reflection he accepted, and, as
every one knows, rendered great service to the United States.

Lafayette wrote Congress a letter of thanks in English--an excellent
letter, considering the short time he had been using the language,
but neither in wording nor in spelling exactly as a native would have
written it. In this letter he expressed the hope that he might be
allowed to "serve near the person of General Washington till such time
as he may think proper to intrust me with a division of the army."

General Washington's previous experience with the French had been
unfortunate. He had met them as enemies in the neighborhood of Fort
Duquesne before Lafayette was born. They had taken part in the defeat
of General Braddock, and during the present war their actions had not
been of a kind to endear them to him. Probably even after reading
Franklin's letter he did not look forward with the least pleasure to
meeting this young sprig of the French nobility. Still, Washington was
a just man and the first to admit that every man has the right to be
judged on his own merits.

It was at a dinner, one of the lucky dinners in Lafayette's career,
[Pg 71]that the two met for the first time. The company was a large
one, made up of the most distinguished men in Philadelphia; but from
the moment Washington entered the room Lafayette was sure he was the
greatest in the company. "The majesty of his countenance and his figure
made it impossible not to recognize him," while his manners seemed to
Lafayette as affable and kindly as they were dignified. Washington on
his part observed the slim young Frenchman throughout the evening, and
was also favorably impressed. Before the party broke up he drew him
aside for a short conversation and invited him to become a member of
his military family, saying with a smile that he could not offer the
luxuries of a court or even the conveniences to which Lafayette had
been accustomed, but that he was now an American soldier and would of
course accommodate himself to the privations of a republican camp.

Pleased and elated as a boy, Lafayette accepted, sent his horses
and luggage to camp, and took up his residence at Washington's
headquarters. "Thus simply," he wrote in his _Memoirs_, "came about
the union of two friends whose attachment and confidence were cemented
by the greatest of interests." In truth this sudden flowering of
friendship between the middle-aged Washington, who appeared so cool,
though in fact he had an ardent nature, and the enthusiastic Frenchman
twenty-five years his junior, is one of the pleasantest glimpses we
have into the kindly human heart of each. It took neither of them one
instant to recognize the worth of the other, and the mutual regard thus
established lasted as long as life itself.


[Pg 72]IX

PROVING HIMSELF A SOLDIER


The American army as Lafayette first saw it must have seemed a strange
body of men to eyes accustomed to holiday parades in Paris. The memory
of it remained with him years afterward when he wrote that it consisted
of "about eleven thousand men, rather poorly armed, and much worse
clad." There was a great variety in the clothing, some unmistakable
nakedness, and the best garments were only loose hunting-shirts of gray
linen, of a cut with which he had already become familiar in Carolina.
The soldiers were drawn up in two lines, the smaller ones in front,
"but with this exception there was no distinction made as to size." It
was while reviewing these troops that Washington said, "it is somewhat
embarrassing to us to show ourselves to an officer who has just come
from the army of France," to which Lafayette made the answer that won
the hearts of all, "I am here to learn, not to teach." He speedily
learned that in spite of their appearance and their way of marching and
maneuvering, which seemed to him childishly simple, they were "fine
soldiers led by zealous officers," in whom "bravery took the place of
science."

[Pg 73]Judging by what they had accomplished, they were indeed wonders.
It was now August, 1777. Lexington had been fought in April, 1775,
and in that space of more than two years England had been unable to
make real headway against the insurrection which General Gage had at
first thought could be thoroughly crushed by four British regiments.
That mistake had soon become apparent. Large reinforcements had been
sent from England with new generals. At present there were two British
armies in the field. Time and again the ragged Continentals had
been beaten, yet in a bewildering fashion they continued to grow in
importance in the eyes of the world.

The first part of the struggle had all taken place in the neighborhood
of Boston; hence the name "Bostonians" by which the Americans had
been applauded in Paris. But after General Howe was held for a whole
winter in Boston in a state of siege he sailed away for Halifax in
March, 1776, with all his troops and all the Tories who refused to stay
without him. This was nothing less than an admission that he was unable
to cope with the Americans. He sent word to England that it would
require at least 50,000 men to do it--10,000 in New England, 20,000
in the Middle States, 10,000 in the South, and 10,000 to beat General
Washington, who had developed such an uncanny power of losing battles,
yet gaining prestige.

The War Office in London refused to believe General Howe. It reasoned
that New England was, after all, only a small section of country which
[Pg 74]could be dealt with later; so it let it severely alone and
concentrated attention upon New York with a view to getting command
of the Hudson River. The Hudson would afford a direct route up to the
Canadian border, and Canada was already British territory. It ought
not to be difficult to gain control of one Atlantic seaport and one
river. That accomplished, the rebellion would be cut in two as neatly
as though severed with a knife, and it would be easy enough to dispose
of New England and of the South in turn.

So General Howe was ordered back to carry out this plan. He appeared
off Staten Island with twenty-five thousand men on the day after the
Declaration of Independence was signed. In the thirteen months that
elapsed between his coming and the day Lafayette first reviewed the
American army General Washington had been able to keep Howe and all
his forces at bay. He had marched and retreated and maneuvered. He had
lost battles and men. Lost New York, as had been reported in Paris; had
indeed lost most of his army, as the American commissioners admitted
to Lafayette; yet in some mysterious way he continued to fight. By
brilliant strategy he had gained enough victory to rekindle hope after
hope seemed dead; and never, even when the outlook was darkest, had the
British been able to get full control of the Hudson River.

The British government, annoyed by Howe's delay, sent over another army
under General Burgoyne in the spring of 1777, with orders to go down
[Pg 75]from Canada and end the matter. When last heard from, this army
had taken Ticonderoga and was pursuing General Schuyler through eastern
New York. General Howe, meanwhile, appeared to have dropped off the
map. He was no longer in force near New York, nor had Washington any
definite news of his whereabouts. This was the situation when Lafayette
became a member of Washington's military family; a major-general
without pay, experience, or a command.

He took his commission seriously enough to cause his general some
misgiving; for, after all, Washington knew nothing about his ability,
only that he liked him personally. Lafayette frankly admitted his youth
and inexperience, but always accompanied such admissions with a hint
that he was ready to assume command as soon as the general saw fit to
intrust him with it. On the 19th of August Washington wrote to Benjamin
Harrison, a member of Congress, telling him his perplexity and asking
him to find out how matters really stood. If Lafayette's commission had
been merely honorary, as Washington supposed, the young man ought to
be made fully aware of his mistake; if not, Washington would like to
know what was expected of him. The answer returned was that Washington
must use his own judgment; and for a time matters drifted. Lafayette
meanwhile took gallant advantage of every small opportunity that came
his way, both for assuming responsibility and for doing a kindness.
He proved himself ready to bear a little more than his full share of
hardship, and, by constant cheerfulness and willingness to accept
[Pg 76]whatever duty was assigned him, came to be regarded as by far
the best foreigner in the army--though of course hopelessly and forever
a foreigner. In his letters home he often touched upon the discontent
of other men of European birth "who complain, detest, and are detested
in turn. They do not understand why I alone am liked.... For my part I
cannot understand why they are so heartily detested.... I am happy in
being loved by everybody, foreign and American. I like them all, hope
to merit their esteem, and we are well content with each other."

It was on the 21st of August, two days after Washington's letter to
Mr. Harrison, that Lafayette was called to attend the first council of
war--that duty about which he had playfully written to his wife. The
question was what to do next, for General Howe and his army had not
been seen or heard of for weeks. That meant that he was planning some
surprise; but from which direction would it come?

The truth was that General Howe had allowed himself to be lured away
from the Hudson by his ambition to capture Philadelphia, knowing what
a blow it would be to the Americans to lose their chief town where
Congress was sitting. As soon as this was accomplished he meant to
return to his former duty. To the American officers gathered around
the map on the council table his whereabouts was a great mystery, for
they thought ample time had elapsed for him to appear in Chesapeake
Bay if Philadelphia was indeed his objective. Presumably he meant to
attack some other place, and Charleston seemed to be the only other
[Pg 77]place of sufficient importance to merit his attention. As it
was manifestly impossible to get Washington's army that far south in
time to be of assistance, it was determined to leave Charleston to its
fate and to move nearer to New York to guard the Hudson. With Burgoyne
descending from the north and Howe in hiding, it was quite possible
that the river might soon be menaced from two directions. The battle
of Bennington, a severe check for Burgoyne, had in fact occurred three
days before, but it is probable they had not yet heard of it.

The day after the council, ships carrying Howe's army were sighted
in Chesapeake Bay, which proved without doubt that Philadelphia was
his goal. Washington faced his men about, and, in order to cheer
Philadelphians and give his soldiers a realization of what they were
defending, marched the army through the city "down Front Street to
Chestnut, and up Chestnut to Elm," riding, himself, at the head of
his troops, a very handsome figure on his white horse, Lafayette
conspicuous among the staff-officers, and the privates wearing
sprigs of green in their hats as they marched to a lively air. They
were joined as they went along by Pennsylvania militia and by other
volunteers who hastened forward, American fashion, at prospect of a
battle. Thus Washington's force was increased to about fifteen thousand
by the time he neared the enemy. Most of these new arrivals were,
however, worse off for clothing and arms--and discipline--than the
original army, so his force by no means matched either in numbers or
[Pg 78]equipment the eighteen thousand British soldiers, thoroughly
supplied according to the best standards of the day, which were
disembarked by Cornwallis "at the Head of Elk," the inlet of Chesapeake
Bay nearest to the city.

There were several preliminary skirmishes, during which Lafayette
learned that Washington could be as personally reckless as the youngest
lieutenant. On the day the British landed he exposed himself in a
reconnaissance and was forced to remain through a night of storm, with
Lafayette and Gen. Nathanael Greene, in a farm-house very near the
enemy lines.

The main battle for the defense of Philadelphia occurred on the 11th
of September, on the banks of a little stream called the Brandywine,
about twenty-five miles from the city. Washington intrenched his force
upon the hilly ground of its east bank, but, owing to woods which made
it hard to observe the enemy, to the ease with which the stream could
be forded, and to the superior numbers of the British, this position
was turned and his army forced back toward Chester. It was Lafayette's
first battle, and the zeal with which he threw himself into the unequal
contest, the quickness of his perceptions, and the courage he showed in
following up his instinct of the thing to do with the act of doing it,
won the admiration of all who saw him. After that day the army forgot
he was a foreigner and looked upon him as one of themselves. "Never,"
he says, "was adoption more complete."

During the hottest of the fight he had leaped from his horse down
among the men, striving by voice and example to rally them to make
[Pg 79]a stand against Cornwallis's fast-approaching column. Lord
Sterling and General Sullivan had come to his aid and the three had
held their ground until the British were only twenty yards away, when
they took refuge in a wood. Lafayette's left leg had been struck by
a musket-ball, but he was unconscious of this until another officer
called attention to the blood running from his boot. With the help of
his French aide-de-camp, Major de Gimat, who had come with him on _La
Victoire_, he remounted his horse, but remained with the troops and
was borne along in the general retreat toward Chester, which became
very like a rout as night approached; men and guns hurrying on in
ever-increasing confusion. Near Chester there was a bridge, and here,
though Lafayette was weak from loss of blood, he placed guards and,
halting the fugitives as they came up, managed to bring something like
order into the chaos. It was only after Washington and other generals
reached the spot that he consented to have his wound properly dressed.
Washington's midnight report to Congress mentioned the gallantry of the
young Frenchman.

Lafayette's injury was not at all dangerous, but it was quite
serious enough to keep him in bed for a month or more. He was taken
to Philadelphia, and Washington sent his most skilful surgeon to
attend him, with orders to care for him as he would for his own son.
Later, when Howe's continued approach made it certain the city must
pass into British hands, he was sent by water to Bristol on the
[Pg 80]Delaware River, and from that point Mr. Henry Laurens, the new
President of Congress, on the way to join his fleeing fellow-members,
who were to resume their sessions at York, gave him a lift in his
traveling-carriage as far as Bethlehem, where the Moravians nursed him
back to health.

De Kalb and other military friends took a real, if humorously
expressed, interest in his "little wound," and on his part he declared
that he valued it at more than five hundred guineas. He had hastened to
write his wife all about it, not too seriously, "for fear that General
Howe, who sends his royal master rather exaggerated details of his
exploits in America, may report that I am not only wounded, but dead.
It would cost him no more." Reports of Lafayette's death were indeed
circulated in France, but Madame d'Ayen managed to keep them from her
daughter. Lafayette assured his wife that his injury was "only a flesh
wound, touching neither bone nor nerves. The surgeons are astonished at
the rapidity with which it heals, and fall into ecstasies every time
it is dressed, pretending it is the loveliest thing in the world. For
myself, I find it very dirty, very much of a bore, and quite painful
enough; but in truth, if a man wanted a wound merely for diversion's
sake he could not do better than come and examine mine, with a view to
copying it. There, dear heart, is the true history of this thing that I
give myself airs about and pompously call 'my wound' in order to appear
interesting."


[Pg 81]X

LETTERS


Lafayette had plenty of time for thought as he lay in his neat room,
waited upon by the wife of the chief farmer of the Bethlehem Society
and her daughter, Lissel. Much of the time was spent in wondering about
Adrienne, of whom as yet he had received news only once. As this was
brought him by Count Pulaski, who left Paris before the birth of the
expected child, Lafayette did not know whether his new baby was a boy
or a girl, whether it had been born alive or dead, or how his wife
had come through the ordeal. He could only send her long letters at
every opportunity, well knowing "that King George might receive some
of them instead." In these he sent messages to many French friends,
not forgetting his old tutor, the Abbé Feyon, but he did not enlarge
upon all phases of his American Life. "At present I am in the solitude
of Bethlehem, about which the Abbé Raynal has so much to say," he told
her. "This community is really touching and very interesting. We will
talk about it after I return, when I mean to bore every one I love,
you, consequently, most of all, with stories of my travels." He did not
[Pg 82]think it wise to refer in letters to one amusing phase of the
situation in which he found himself at Bethlehem--the visits paid him
by influential members of the Moravian brotherhood, who took a deep
interest in his spiritual welfare and tried their best to convert him
from a warrior into a pacifist.

It was while listening, or appearing to listen, politely to their
sermons upon peace that his mind darted over the earth, here and there,
even to far-distant Asia, planning warlike expeditions for the aid of
his American friends. When his peaceful hosts departed he wrote letters
embodying these plans. As he says in his _Memoirs_, he could "do
nothing except write letters." One, which he addressed to the French
governor of Martinique, proposed an attack on the British West Indies,
to be carried out under the American flag. He had also the temerity to
write to M. de Maurepas, proposing a descent upon the British in India.
The boldness of the idea, and the impudence of Lafayette in suggesting
it while he was still under the ban of the French government, caused
the old man to chuckle. "Once that boy got an idea in his head there
was no stopping him," he said. "Some day he would strip Versailles of
its furniture for the sake of his Americans," and thereafter he showed
a marked partiality for "that boy."

Matters had gone badly for the Americans since the battle of the
Brandywine. General Howe occupied Philadelphia on September 26th; on
October 4th Washington lost the battle of Germantown. Since then the
[Pg 83]army had been moving from camp to camp, seeking a spot not
too exposed, yet from which it could give General Howe all possible
annoyance. Clearly this was no time to be lying in tidy, sunlit rooms
listening to sermons on non-resistance. Before he was able to bear
the weight of his military boot Lafayette rejoined the army. An entry
in the diary of the Bethlehem Congregation, dated October 16, 1777,
reads: "The French Marquis, whom we have found to be a very intelligent
and pleasant young man, came to bid us adieu, and requested to be
shown through the Sisters' House, which we were pleased to grant. He
was accompanied by his adjutant, and expressed his admiration of the
institution. While recovering from his wound he spent much of his time
in reading." Under date of October 18th is another entry, "The French
Marquis and General Woodford left for the army to-day."

On the day between Lafayette's visit of farewell and his actual
departure Gen. John Burgoyne, who had set out confidently from Canada
to open the Hudson River, ended by surrendering his entire army. He
had thought he was pursuing ragged Continental soldiers when in truth
they were luring him through the autumn woods to his ruin. He awoke to
find his communications cut and his army compelled to fight a battle or
starve. It gallantly fought two battles near Saratoga, one on September
19th, the other on October 7th; but both went against him and ten days
later he gave up his sword and nearly six thousand British soldiers to
"mere" Americans.

[Pg 84]Up to that time a puzzled world had been unable to understand
how the American cause continued to gain. The capture of a whole
British army, however, was something tangible that Europe could fully
comprehend, and respect for the Revolution measurably increased. The
victory had even greater effect in Europe than in America, though at
home there was much rejoicing and a marked gain in the value of those
"promises to pay" which Congress issued as a means of getting money for
current expenses.

But Burgoyne's surrender threatened to have very serious effects upon
the personal fortunes of General Washington, and in lesser degree
upon those of Lafayette. People began contrasting the results of the
summer's campaign. Washington, in command of the main army, had lost
Philadelphia, while farther north General Gates, with fewer men, had
not only captured Burgoyne, but cleared the whole region of enemy
troops. There were those who did not hesitate to say that Washington
ought to be deposed and Gates put in his place.

In reality Gates had almost nothing to do with the surrender of
Burgoyne. The strategy which led up to the battles of Saratoga was the
work of General Schuyler, who was forced out of command by intrigue
and superseded by Gates just before the crowning triumph. The battles
themselves had not been fought under the personal orders of the new
commander, but under Benedict Arnold and Gen. Daniel Morgan, with the
help of the Polish General Kosciuszko in planning defenses. It was pure
[Pg 85]luck, therefore, which brought Gates the fame; but, being a
man of more ambition than good judgment, with an excellent opinion of
himself, he was the last person in the world to discourage praise of
his ability.

Discontent against Washington was fanned by born intriguers like the
Irish General Conway and by the more despicable Gen. Charles Lee, a
traitor at heart. Lafayette became involved quite innocently, in the
plot against him, known to history as the Conway Cabal. Two things,
good in themselves, were responsible for it. One was his optimistic
belief in human nature; the other, his increasing military renown. The
latter was the result of a very small engagement in which he took a
very large part shortly after rejoining the army. The main camp was
then about fifteen miles from Philadelphia, but General Greene had
taken his division over into New Jersey, where he was endeavoring to
make life uncomfortable for General Howe. Lafayette obtained permission
to join him as a volunteer, and on the 25th of November went out with
about three hundred men to reconnoiter a position held by the British
at Gloucester, opposite Philadelphia. He could clearly see them
carrying across the river the provisions they had gathered in a raid
in New Jersey, and they might easily have killed or captured him had
they been on the lookout. Some of his men advanced to within two miles
and a half of Gloucester, where they came upon a post of three hundred
and fifty Hessians with field-pieces. What followed is told briefly in
[Pg 86]his own words. "As my little reconnoitering party was all in
fine spirits, I supported them. We pushed the Hessians more than half
a mile from the place where their main body was, and we made them run
very fast." The vigor, of his attack made Cornwallis believe General
Greene's entire division was upon him, and he hurried to the relief of
his Hessians. This was more than Lafayette bargained for, and he drew
off in the gathering darkness with the loss of only one man killed and
five wounded, carrying with him fourteen Hessian prisoners, while twice
that number, including an officer, remained on the field.

General Greene had described Lafayette to his wife as "one of the
sweetest-tempered young gentlemen." Now his soldierly qualities
impressed him. "The marquis is determined to be in the way of danger,"
was the comment he appended to his own account of the affair; and he
ordered Lafayette to make his report directly to Washington, which the
young man did in the boyishly jubilant epistle written in quaint French
English which told how the Hessians "ran very fast." The letter fairly
bubbled with pride over the behavior of his militia and his rifle
corps; and, not content with expressing this to his Commander-in-chief,
he lined them up next morning and made them a little speech, telling
them exactly how he felt about it. An Englishman or an American could
scarcely have done it with grace, but it was manifestly spontaneous on
his part--one of those little acts which so endeared Lafayette to his
American friends both in and out of the army.

[Pg 87]Washington sent on the news to Congress with the intimation
that his young friend had now proved his ability and might be trusted
with the command he so longed for. "He possesses uncommon military
talents," Washington wrote, "is of a quick and sound judgment,
persevering and enterprising without rashness, and, besides these, he
is of conciliating temper and perfectly sober--which are qualities
that rarely combine in the same person." At that moment of bickering
in the army and of popular criticism of himself they must have
seemed exceptionally rare to Washington. Congress expressed its
willingness, and we learn from a long letter written by Lafayette to
his father-in-law and carried across the ocean by no less a personage
than John Adams, when he went to replace Silas Deane at Paris, that
Washington offered him the choice of several different divisions.

He chose one made up entirely of Virginians, though it was weak "even
in proportion to the weakness of the entire army," and very sadly in
need of clothing. "I am given hope of cloth out of which I must make
coats and recruits out of which I must make soldiers in almost the
same space of time. Alas! the one is harder than the other, even for
men more skilled than I," he wrote, just before the army went into
its melancholy winter quarters at Valley Forge. "We shall be in huts
there all winter," Lafayette explained. "It is there that the American
army will try to clothe itself, because it is naked with an entire
nakedness; to form itself, because it is in need of instruction; and to
[Pg 88]recruit its numbers, because it is very weak. But the thirteen
states are going to exert themselves and send us men," he added,
cheerfully. "I hope my division will be one of the strongest, and I
shall do all in my power to make it one of the best."

He was striving to make the most of his opportunity. "I read, I study,
I examine, I listen, I reflect, and upon the result of all this I
endeavor to form my opinion and to put into it as much common sense as
I can. I am cautious about talking too much, lest I should say some
foolish thing; and still more cautious in my actions lest I should do
some foolish thing; for I do not want to disappoint the confidence the
Americans have so kindly placed in me."

There was not much to do after the army went into winter quarters;
and France seemed very far away. "What is the use of writing news in
a letter destined to travel for years and to reach you finally in
tatters?" he wrote Adrienne on November 6th. "You may receive this
letter, dear heart, in the course of five or six years, for I write
by a crooked chance, of which I have no great opinion. See the route
it will take. An officer of the army carries it to Fort Pitt, three
hundred miles toward the back of the continent. There it will embark
on the Ohio and float through a region inhabited by savages. When it
reaches New Orleans a little boat will transport it to the Spanish
Isles, from which a vessel of that nation will take it (Lord knows
when!) when it returns to Europe. But it will still be far from you,
[Pg 89]and only after having passed through all the grimy hands of
Spanish postal officials will it be allowed to cross the Pyrenees.
It may be unsealed and resealed five or six times before reaching
you. So it will be proof that I neglect not a single chance, even the
remotest, to send you news of me and to repeat how much I love you....
It is cruel to think ... that my true happiness is two hundred leagues
distant, across an immense ocean infested by scoundrelly English
vessels. They make me very unhappy, those villainous ships. Only one
letter from you, one single letter, dear heart, has reached me as yet.
The others are lost, captured, lying at the bottom of the sea, to all
appearances. I can only blame our enemies for this horrible privation;
for you surely would not neglect to write me from every port and by
every packet sent out by Doctor Franklin and Mr. Deane."

On his part, he neglected not a single opportunity. On one occasion
he even sent her a letter by the hand of an English officer, a Mr.
Fitzpatrick, with whom he had begun a friendship during his visit to
London. This gentleman had come to Philadelphia with General Howe, and
Lafayette learned in some way that he was about to return to England.
"I could not resist the desire to embrace him before his departure. We
arranged a rendezvous in this town (Germantown). It is the first time
that we have met without arms in our hands, and it pleases us both much
better than the enemy airs we have heretofore given ourselves ... there
is no news of interest. Besides, it would not do for Mr. Fitzpatrick to
[Pg 90]transport political news written by a hand at present engaged
against his army."

It was this friendly enemy, Mr. Fitzpatrick, who lifted his voice in
the British House of Commons in Lafayette's behalf, when the latter was
a prisoner in Germany.


[Pg 91]XI

A FOOL'S ERRAND


The more Lafayette studied Washington the more he was confirmed in
his first swift impression. "Our general is a man really created for
this Revolution, which could not succeed without him," he wrote the
Duc d'Ayen. "I see him more intimately than any one else in the world,
and I see him worthy the adoration of his country.... His name will be
revered in future ages by all lovers of liberty and humanity."

Such admiration seemed unlikely ground upon which to work for
Washington's undoing, but this was what his enemies attempted. Part
of their plan was to win away Washington's trusted friends, and
Lafayette's good will would be particularly valuable, because he
was looked upon in a way as representing France. The winter proved
unusually severe, and when the sufferings of the soldiers at Valley
Forge began to be noised abroad criticism of Washington increased. It
was pointed out that Burgoyne's captured army was being fed at American
expense, that General Clinton's forces were comfortably housed in New
York, while General Howe and his officers were enjoying a brilliant
[Pg 92]social season at Philadelphia; but at Valley Forge there was
only misery. General Conway was there himself, working up his plot.

Lafayette was so kindly disposed that it was hard for him to believe
others evil-minded. Also he was frankly ambitious. Thomas Jefferson
once said of him that he had "a canine appetite" for fame. Conway
played skilfully on both these traits, professing great friendship for
Lafayette and throwing out hints of glory to be gained in service under
General Gates, to whom he knew Lafayette had written a polite note of
congratulation after Saratoga. Lafayette appears to have taken it all
at its face value until an incriminating letter from Conway to Gates
fell into hands for which it was never intended. Then Lafayette went
directly to Washington, meaning to unburden his heart, but the general
was engaged and could not see him. He returned to his quarters and
wrote him a long letter, breathing solicitude in every line. Washington
answered with his usual calm dignity, but in a way to show that the
young man's devotion was balm to his spirit.

Conway had played upon Lafayette's homesickness also. Family news came
to him very slowly. It was not until Christmas was being celebrated at
Valley Forge with such sorry festivities as the camp could afford that
he learned of the birth of his little daughter, Anastasie, which had
occurred in the previous July. All the camp rejoiced with him, but the
news increased his desire to be with his wife and children, if only for
[Pg 93]a short time. If he had really contemplated a journey across the
sea, however, he gave up the idea at once, believing that loyalty to
his friend now made it his duty to "stand by."

"The bearer of this letter will describe to you the attractive
surroundings of the place I have chosen to stay in rather than to enjoy
the happiness of being with you," he wrote Adrienne. "After you know
in detail all the circumstances of my present position ... you will
approve of my course. I almost dare to say you will applaud me....
Besides the reason that I have given you, I have still another which
I should not mention to everybody, because it might appear that I was
assuming an air of ridiculous importance. My presence is more necessary
to the American cause at this moment than you may imagine. Many
foreigners who have failed to obtain commissions, or whose ambitious
schemes after having obtained them could not be countenanced, have
entered into powerful conspiracies; they have used every artifice to
turn me against this Revolution and against him who is its leader; and
they have taken every opportunity to spread the report that I am about
to leave the continent. The British have openly declared this to be so.
I cannot with good conscience play into the hands of these people. If I
were to go, many Frenchmen who are useful here would follow my example."

So he stayed at Valley Forge, which was indeed a place of icy torment.
The men suffered horribly for lack of coats and caps and shoes.
Their feet froze until they were black. Sometimes they had to be [Pg
94]amputated. There was not enough food. Even colonels rarely had
more than two meals a day, often only one, while the rank and file
frequently went for several days without a distribution of rations.
Enlistments ceased, and desertion was very easy with a wide-open
country back of the camp and Howe's sleek, well-fed army only two
marches away down the Lancaster Pike. It was small wonder that
Washington's numbers dwindled until he could count only five or six
thousand. Lafayette called the endurance of the wretched little army
that held on "a miracle which every day served to renew." It was a
miracle explained by the character of the Commander-in-chief, and of
the remarkable group of officers he had gathered around him. As for
Lafayette, he strove to live as frugally and be as self-denying as
any of them. More than forty years later some of his American friends
had proof of how well he succeeded; for an old soldier came up and
reminded him how one snowy night at Valley Forge he had taken a gun
from a shivering sentry and stood guard himself while he sent the man
to his own quarters for a pair of stockings and his only blanket; and
when these things were brought how he had cut the blanket in two and
given him half. Though there was cruel suffering in that winter camp,
there was much of such high-spirited gallantry to meet it; and there
were also pleasant hours, for several of the officers had been joined
by their wives, who did everything in their power to make the dull days
brighter.

[Illustration: WASHINGTON AND THE COMMITTEE OF CONGRESS AT VALLEY FORGE]

[Illustration: VALLEY FORGE--WASHINGTON AND LAFAYETTE]

[Pg 95]Washington's enemies, not yet having exhausted their wiles, hit
upon a clever plan to remove Lafayette from his side. They succeeded
in getting Congress to appoint a new War Board with General Gates at
its head. This body exercised authority, though Washington remained
Commander-in-chief. Without consulting him, the board decided, or
pretended to decide, to send a winter expedition into Canada, with
Lafayette at its head and Conway second in command. Conway had offered
his resignation at the time his letter was discovered, but it had not
been accepted. To emphasize the slight put upon Washington, Lafayette's
new commission was inclosed in a letter to the Commander-in-chief, with
the request that he hand it to the younger man. This Washington did
with admirable self-control, saying, as he gave Lafayette the paper, "I
would rather they had selected you for this than any other man."

It is not often that such important duty falls to a soldier of
twenty-one. Naturally enough, he was elated, and this duty was
particularly tempting because it offered him, a Frenchman, the chance
to go into a French province to reconquer a region which had been
taken from his own people by Britain in the Seven Years' War. But he
also was capable of exercising self-control, and he answered that he
could accept it only on the understanding that he remained subordinate
to Washington, as an officer of his army detailed for special duty,
with the privilege of making reports directly to him and of sending
duplicates to Congress. A committee of Congress happened to be visiting
[Pg 96]Valley Forge that day, and he went impetuously before them and
declared that he would rather serve as a mere aide under Washington
than accept any separate command the War Board could give him. His
conditions being agreed to, he departed happily enough for York,
Pennsylvania, where Congress was still holding its sittings, in order
to receive his instructions.

There, in General Gates's own house, at another dinner memorable in his
personal history, he got his first intimation of the kind of campaign
the War Board wished him to carry on. Toast after toast was drunk--to
the success of the northern expedition--to Lafayette and his brilliant
prospects--and on through a long list, to which he listened in growing
amazement, for he missed the most important of them all. "Gentlemen!"
he cried, finally, springing to his feet, "I propose the health of
General Washington!" and the others drank it in silence.

He refused to have Conway for his second in command, and asked that De
Kalb be detailed to accompany him instead. He proved so intractable, in
short, that even before he set out for Albany, where he was to assume
command, the conspirators saw it was useless to continue the farce; but
they allowed him to depart on his cold journey as the easiest way of
letting the matter end. The four hundred miles occupied two weeks by
sleigh and horseback, a most discouraging sample of what he must expect
farther north. "Lake Champlain is too cold for producing the least bit
of laurel," he wrote Washington. "I go very slowly, sometimes drenched
by rain, sometimes covered by snow, and not entertaining many [Pg
97]handsome thoughts about the projected incursion into Canada."

At Albany he found creature comforts, a bed, for one thing, with a
supply of quilts and blankets that made it entirely possible to sleep
without lying down in his clothes, which was a luxury he had scarcely
enjoyed since leaving Bethlehem; but of preparations for invading
Canada he found not one. The plans and orders that looked so well on
paper, and which he had been assured were well under way, had not been
heard of in Albany, or else had not been executed, for the best of
reasons; because they could not be. General Conway was there ahead of
him to represent the War Board, and told him curtly that the expedition
was not to be thought of. Astounded, the young general refused
to believe him until interviews with General Schuyler and others
experienced in northern campaigning convinced him that this at least
was not treachery, but cold, hard fact.

The discovery was a great blow to Lafayette's pride. Members of
Congress had urged him to write about the expedition to his friends
in France. He was frankly afraid that he would be laughed at "unless
Congress offers the means of mending this ugly business by some
glorious operation." But he was in no mood to ask favors of Congress.
"For you, dear General," he wrote Washington, "I know very well that
you will do everything to procure me the one thing I am ambitious
of--glory. I think your Excellency will approve of my staying on here
until further orders."

[Pg 98]March found him still at Albany, awaiting the orders which the
War Board was in no haste to send, having already accomplished its
purpose. He tried to retrieve something out of the hopeless situation,
but with fewer men than he had been promised, and these clamoring for
pay long overdue, he had little success. "Everybody is after me for
monney," he wrote General Gates, "and monney will be spoken of by me
till I will be enabled to pay our poor soldiers. Not only justice and
humanity, but even prudence obliges us to satisfy them soon." As he
had already done, and would do again, he drew upon his private credit
to meet the most pressing public needs; but he could work against the
enemy only in an indirect way by sending supplies to Fort Schuyler,
where they were sorely needed.

One interesting experience, unusual for a French nobleman, came to
him during this tedious waiting. The Indians on the frontier became
restless, and General Schuyler called a council of many tribes to meet
"at Johnson Town" in the Mohawk Valley. He invited Lafayette to attend,
hoping by his presence to reawaken the Indians' old partiality for the
French. Five hundred men, women, and children attended this council,
and very picturesque they must have looked with their tents and their
trappings against the snowy winter landscape. The warriors were as
gorgeous as macaws in their feathered war-bonnets, nose-jewels, and
brilliant paint, but Lafayette noted that they talked politics with the
skill of veterans, as the pipe passed from hand to hand.

[Pg 99]He appears to have exercised his usual personal charm for
Americans upon these original children of the soil as he had already
exercised it upon the whites who came to supplant them. But he says
of it only that they "showed an equal regard for his words and his
necklaces." Before the council was over he was adopted into one of the
tribes, and returned to Albany the richer by another name to add to his
long collection--"Kayewla," which had belonged to a respected chief of
a bygone day. The new Kayewla was so well liked that a band of Iroquois
followed him south and became part of his military division.

On his return to Albany an unexpected duty awaited him. A new form
of oath of office, forever forswearing allegiance to George III and
acknowledging the sovereignty and independence of the United States,
had come, with the order that all must subscribe to it. So, to use the
picturesque phrase of the Middle Ages, it was "between" his French
hands that the officers of the northern military department swore
fealty to the new United States of America.

As spring advanced the influence of Gates and Conway waned and
Washington regained his old place in public esteem. Conway himself left
the country. Lafayette and De Kalb were ordered back to the main army;
and in doing this Congress took pains to express by resolution its
belief that the young general was in no way to blame for the failure
of the winter expedition to Canada. When he reached Washington's
headquarters in April he found Valley Forge much less melancholy than
[Pg 100]when he left it; a change due not only to the more cheerful
season of the year, but to wonders in the way of improved discipline
that General von Steuben had brought about in a few short weeks.
This officer of much experience had been trained under Frederick the
Great, and, having served as his aide, was equipped in fullest measure
with the knowledge and skill in military routine that Washington's
volunteers so lacked. When he took up his duties he found a confusion
almost unbelievable to one of his orderly military mind. Military terms
meant nothing. A regiment might contain only thirty men, or it might
be larger than another officer's brigade. It might be formed of three
platoons or of twenty-one. There was one company that consisted of
only a single corporal. Each colonel drilled his men after a system of
his own; and the arms in the hands of these go-as-you-please soldiers
"were in a horrible condition--covered with rust, half of them without
bayonets," while there were many from which not a single shot could
be fired. Yet this was the main army of the revolutionists who had
set out to oppose England! Fortunately Baron von Steuben was no mere
drillmaster. He had the invaluable gift of inspiring confidence and
imparting knowledge. Between March, when he began his "intensive"
training, and the opening of the summer campaign, he made of that band
of lean and tattered patriots a real army, though it still lacked much
of having a holiday appearance. The men's coats gave no indication of
their rank, or indeed that they were in the army at all. They were
of many colors, including red, and it was not impossible to see an
[Pg 101]officer mounting guard at grand parade clad "in a sort of
dressing-gown made of an old blanket or woolen bedcover." But the man
inside the coat was competent for his job.

It was a compatriot of Lafayette's, the French Minister of War,
St.-Germain, who had persuaded General Steuben to go to America;
so to France is due part of our gratitude for the services of this
efficient German. Perhaps, going back farther, the real person we
should thank is General Burgoyne, since it was his surrender which
undoubtedly quickened the interest of the French in the efficiency
of our ragamuffin army. French official machinery, which had been
strangely clogged before, began to revolve when news of Burgoyne's
surrender reached Paris early in December, 1777. The king, who had
not found it convenient to receive the American commissioners up to
that time, sent them word that he had been friendly all along; and as
soon as diplomatic formality permitted, a treaty of amity and commerce
was signed between France and America. That meant that France was
now formally an ally, and that the United States might count upon
her influence and even upon her military help. It was a great point
gained, but Franklin refused to allow his old eyes to be dazzled by
mere glitter when he "and all the Americans in Paris" were received by
the king and queen at Versailles in honor of the event. He was less
impressed by the splendor of the palace than by the fact that it would
be the better for a thorough cleaning. After the royal audience was
[Pg 102]over he and the other commissioners hastened to pay a visit of
ceremony to young Madame Lafayette in order to testify to the part her
husband had played in bringing about this happy occurrence.

When news of the signing of this treaty reached America about the 1st
of May, 1778, Lafayette embraced his grave general in the exuberance of
his joy, and even kissed him in French fashion. There was an official
celebration in camp on the 7th of May, with much burning of gunpowder,
reviewing of troops, "suitable" discoursing by chaplains, and many
hearty cheers. Washington's orders prescribed in great detail just when
and how each part of the celebration was to be carried out, and this is
probably the only time in history that an American army _en masse_ was
ordered to cry, "Long live the king of France!"

Lafayette, with a white sash across his breast, commanded the left; but
it was a heavy heart that he carried under his badge that gala-day.
Letters which came to him immediately after news of the treaty had
brought sad tidings. He learned of the death of a favorite nephew,
loved by him like a son, and also that his oldest child, the little
Henriette, to whom he had been sending messages in every letter, had
died in the previous October. "My heart is full of my own grief, and
of yours which I was not with you to share," he wrote Adrienne. "The
distance from Europe to America never seemed so immense to me as it
does now.... The news came to me immediately after that of the treaty,
and while bowed down with grief I had to receive congratulations and
[Pg 103]take part in the public rejoicing." Had the letters come
through without delay they would have arrived at the beginning of
winter, at the moment when General Conway was fanning the flame of his
homesickness. The desire to comfort his wife might have turned the
scale and sent Lafayette across the sea instead of to Albany. Now,
though he longed to go to her, he felt bound to remain for the campaign
which was about to open.


[Pg 104]XII

FARCE AND TREACHERY


Much as the French treaty had done for the Americans, it had by no
means ended the war. There were as many British soldiers as ever on
American soil, and General Howe at Philadelphia and General Clinton
at New York could be trusted to make excellent use of them. Signs of
British activity were already apparent. A large number of transports
had sailed from Philadelphia, but whether they had gone to bring
reinforcements or whether it meant that Philadelphia was being
abandoned and that the Hudson was again to be the main point of attack
Washington did not know. Lafayette was ordered to take some of the best
troops at Valley Forge and find out.

He left camp on the 18th of May with about twenty-two hundred men,
among them six hundred Pennsylvania militia and half a hundred
Iroquois Indians. Crossing the Schuylkill, he established himself on
high ground between that river and the Delaware, twelve miles from
the city, at a hamlet called Barren Hill, whose chief ornament was a
[Pg 105]church with a graveyard. It was an excellent spot for purposes
of observation; for roads ran in various directions, while the abrupt
fall of the land toward the Schuylkill protected his right, and there
were substantial stone buildings in a wood in front which could be used
as forts in case of need. He guarded against surprise on his left,
the direction from which any considerable body of British was likely
to approach, by placing there his large detachment of Pennsylvania
militia. He planted his five cannon in good positions, sent out his
Indian scouts, who wormed themselves several miles nearer the city, had
interviews with promising individuals who were to act as spies, and was
well pleased with himself.

The British were also exceedingly well pleased when their spies brought
in full information of Lafayette's position and numbers. They saw that
he had separated himself from the American army and virtually placed
himself in their hands; and short of Washington himself there was no
officer they would so enjoy capturing. His prominence at home and
his popularity in America made him a shining mark; moreover, he had
fooled them in London before coming to America. It would be a great
satisfaction to take him prisoner gently, without hurting him, treat
him with mock courtesy, and send him back to England, a laughing-stock.

They had force enough to make his capture practically certain, and
set out in great glee, so sure of the result that before leaving town
Generals Howe and Clinton, both of whom were in Philadelphia, sent out
invitations to a reception for the following day "to meet the Marquis
[Pg 106]de Lafayette." Although it was looked upon as something of a
lark, the expedition was deemed sufficiently important for General
Clinton to lead it in person, while General Howe accompanied him,
and the admiral, General Howe's sailor brother, went along as a
volunteer. Taking four men to Lafayette's one, and marching by night,
they approached Barren Hill in a way to cut off the fords across the
Schuylkill and also to intercept any assistance which might be sent
from Valley Forge.

Unconscious that he was in danger, Lafayette was talking, early on the
morning of May 20th, with a young woman who was going into the city as
a spy, when word was brought him that dragoons in red coats had been
seen on the Whitemarsh road. This did not disturb him, for he knew that
among the coats of many colors worn by his Pennsylvania militia some
were red; but he sent out to verify the information, merely as a matter
of routine. Soon the truth was learned--and exaggerated--and his men
set up a cry that they were surrounded by the British.

Fortunately Lafayette had a head which grew steadier in a crisis.
Sending his aides flying in all directions, he found that while the
way to Valley Forge was indeed cut off, one ford still remained open,
though the British were rapidly advancing upon it. He quickly placed a
small number of his men near the church, where the stone wall of the
graveyard would serve as breastworks, stationed a few more near the
woods as if they were heads of columns just appearing, and ordered
[Pg 107]all the rest to drop quietly down the steep side of the hill
until they were out of sight, and then hurry to the ford. The attention
of the enemy was held long enough by the decoy troops to enable the
others to reach the ford or swim across, their heads dotting the water
"like the corks of a floating seine," and Lafayette, who had stayed
behind, brought the last of his men to safety just as two columns of
the British, marching up two sides of Barren Hill, met each other, face
to face, at the top. Lafayette, on the opposite bank of the river,
prepared for defense, but the British were too disgusted to follow.

The real encounter of the serio-comic affair took place between the
most gaudily dressed bands of fighters in the whole Revolution,
Lafayette's Iroquois in their war regalia and Clinton's advance-guard
of Hessian cavalry. As the latter advanced, the Indians rose from their
hiding-places uttering their piercing war-whoops. The horses of the
troopers were terrified by the brilliant, shrieking creatures, and
bolted. But terror was not all upon one side. The Indians had never
seen men like these Hessians, with their huge bearskin shakos and
fierce dyed mustaches. They in their turn were seized with panic and
rushed away, fleeing incontinently from "bad medicine."

Absurd as the affair proved, with little harm done to anything except
the feelings of the British, its consequences might easily have been
serious, both to the Revolution and to Lafayette. The loss of two
thousand of his best men would have dangerously crippled Washington's
[Pg 108]little army; while the capture of Lafayette, on the very first
occasion he was intrusted with a command of any size, must almost
of necessity have ended his military usefulness forever. As it was,
Barren Hill demonstrated that he was quick and resourceful in time
of danger; and these were very valuable qualities in a war like the
American Revolution, which was won largely through the skill of its
generals in losing battles. To realize the truth of this and how well
it was carried out, we have only to recall Washington's masterly work
in the winter campaign in New Jersey, when he maneuvered and marched
and gave way until the right moment came to stand; how General Schuyler
lured Burgoyne to disaster; and how, in a later campaign in the South,
General Greene was said to have "reduced the art of losing battles to a
science." Years afterward, in talking with Napoleon, Lafayette called
our Revolution "the grandest of contests, won by the skirmishes of
sentinels and outposts." About a month after this affair at Barren Hill
the English evacuated Philadelphia and moved slowly northward with a
force of seventeen thousand men and a baggage-train nearly twelve miles
long. The length of this train indicated that it was moving-day for the
British army, which wanted to be nearer the Hudson, but certain other
indications pointed to the opening of an active campaign in New Jersey.
A majority of the American officers, including Gen. Charles Lee, who
was second in command, argued against an attack because both in numbers
and organization the British force was superior to their own. General
[Pg 109]Lee went so far as to say that, instead of trying to interfere
with General Clinton's retreat, it ought to be aided in every possible
way, "even with a bridge of gold." Subsequent developments proved
that it was not fear of a British victory, but sympathy with British
plans, which prompted this view. Several other officers, however,
Washington himself, Gen. Anthony Wayne, who was always ready to fight,
General Greene, General Cadwallader, and Lafayette, were in favor
of following and attacking at the earliest opportunity. It was this
course that Washington chose, in spite of the majority of votes against
it. It seemed to him that the difficulty Clinton must experience in
maneuvering his army over the roads of that region, and the fact that
almost half of his force would need to be employed in guarding the
unwieldy baggage-train, justified the expectation of success. His plan
was to throw out a strong detachment ahead of the main army to harass
the British flanks and rear and to follow this up so closely that the
main army would be ready to go to its support in case Clinton turned to
fight.

The command of the advanced detachment was the post of honor, and to
this Lee was entitled because of his rank. He refused it and Washington
offered it to Lafayette, who accepted joyously. He had already begun
his march when Lee reconsidered and sent Washington word that he
desired the command, after all, appealing at the same time to Lafayette
with the words, "I place my fortune and my honor in your hands; you
are too generous to destroy both the one and the other." Lee was
[Pg 110]one of the few men Lafayette did not like, though he had no
suspicion of his loyalty. He thought him ugly in face and in spirit,
full of avarice and ambition. But Lee was his superior officer, and
Lafayette was a soldier as well as a gentleman. He relinquished the
command at once and offered to serve under Lee as a volunteer.

It would have been better had he found it in his heart and in the
military regulations to refuse, for on that sultry unhappy 28th of
June when the two armies met and the battle of Monmouth Court House
was fought, General Lee's indecision and confusion of orders, to give
his conduct no harsher name, turned the advance of the Americans,
who were in the best of spirits and eager to fight, into what their
generals admitted was "a disgraceful rout." Officer after officer came
to Lee beseeching him to let them carry out their original instructions
and not to give orders to fall back; but he did everything to hinder
success, answering stubbornly, "I know my business."

At Lafayette's first intimation that things were going wrong, he sent
a message to Washington, who was with the main army, some miles in the
rear. Whether he learned the news first from this messenger or from a
very scared fifer running down the road, Washington could not believe
his eyes or his ears. Hurrying forward, he found Lee in the midst of
the retreating troops and a brief but terrible scene took place between
them; Washington in a white heat of anger, though outwardly calm,
[Pg 111]Lee stammering and stuttering and finally bursting out with
the statement that the whole movement had been made contrary to his
advice. Washington's short and scorching answer ended Lee's military
career. Then, turning away from him as though from a creature unworthy
of further notice, the Commander-in-chief took up the serious task at
hand. The soldiers responded to his presence instantly. With those on
the field he and Lafayette were able to make a stand until reserves
came up and a drawn battle was fought which lasted until nightfall. The
conditions had been unusually trying, for the heat was so oppressive
that men died of that alone, without receiving a wound. Both armies
camped upon the field, Washington meaning to renew the contest next
morning; but during the night the enemy retired to continue the march
toward New York.

[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH, JUNE 28, 1778]

Lee was tried by court martial and suspended from any command in the
armies of the United States for the period of one year. Afterward
Congress dismissed him altogether. The judgment of history is that he
deserved severer punishment and that his sympathies were undoubtedly
with the British. He was of English birth, and from the beginning
of his service in the American army he tried to thwart Washington.
Lafayette was convinced that, though his name does not appear
prominently in the doings of the Conway cabal, it was he and not
General Gates who would have profited by the success of that plot.

Since the British were able to continue their march as planned, they
[Pg 112]claimed Monmouth as a victory. Washington also continued
northward and, crossing the Hudson, established himself near White
Plains, which brought the British and American forces once more into
the relative positions they had occupied two years earlier, after the
battle of Long Island.

Monmouth proved to be the last engagement of consequence fought that
year, and the last large battle of the Revolution to be fought in the
Northern states. Very soon after this the British gave up their attempt
to cut the rebellion in two by opening the Hudson, and substituted for
it the plan of capturing the Southern states one by one, beginning with
Georgia and working northward. They continued to keep a large force
near New York, however, and that necessitated having an American army
close by. These two forces were not idle; some of the most dramatic
incidents of the whole war occurred here, though the main contest raged
elsewhere, and in a larger sense, these armies were only marking time.


[Pg 113]XIII

A LIAISON OFFICER


Lafayette's influence and duties took on a new character about the
middle of July, 1778, when a fleet of twenty-six French frigates and
ships of the line arrived, commanded by Admiral d'Estaing.

These ships had sailed in such secrecy that even their captains did
not know whither they were bound until they had been at sea some
days. Then, while a solemn Mass was being sung aboard the flagship,
the signal was hoisted to break the seals upon their orders. When the
full meaning of these orders dawned upon the sailors and the thousand
soldiers who accompanied the expedition shouts of joy and cries of
_"Vive le Roi!"_ spread from ship to ship. But it was an expedition
fated to ill luck. Storms and contrary winds delayed them five weeks
in the Mediterranean, and seven more in crossing the Atlantic. Food
and water were almost gone when they reached Delaware Bay, where
the disappointing news awaited their commander that the British,
fearing his blockade, had withdrawn to New York, taking the available
food-supplies of the neighborhood with them. That was the explanation
[Pg 114]of Clinton's long wagon-train. He left little behind for hungry
sailors.

D'Estaing landed Silas Deane, and the first minister sent from France
to the United States, who had come over with; him sent messages
announcing his arrival to Congress and to Washington, and proceeded up
the coast. For eleven days he remained outside the bar at Sandy Hook
in a position bad for his ships and worse for his temper; for inside
the bar he could see many masts flying the British flag. But pilots
were hard to find, most of them being in the service of his enemies;
and without pilots he could not enter. When at last they were obtained
it was only to tell him that the largest of his vessels drew too much
water to enter without removing part of their guns, and this he could
not afford to do with English ships lying inside. D'Estaing would not
believe it until he himself had made soundings. "It is terrible to be
within sight of your object and yet unable to attain it," he wrote. To
add to his unhappiness he heard that an English fleet under Admiral
Byron had sailed for American waters, and he knew that its arrival
would raise the number of British ships and guns to a figure far
exceeding his own. He put to sea again, his destination this time being
Newport, where the British had a few ships and about six thousand men.
Washington had suggested a combined attack here in case it was found
impossible to accomplish anything at New York.

Admiral d'Estaing came from Auvergne, as did Lafayette. Indeed,
their families were related by marriage, and to his first official
[Pg 115]communication Lafayette had added, at Washington's request, a
long postscript giving personal and family details that the British
could not possibly know, doing this to prove to the admiral that the
proposed plans were genuine and not an invention of the enemy. The
correspondence thus begun had continued with pleasure on both sides,
and, after the fleet reached Newport, Lafayette spent a happy day on
the flagship as the admiral's honored guest, though he was technically
still a deserter, subject to arrest and deportation.

The American part of the combined attack on Newport was to be made
by a detachment of Washington's army co-operating with state troops
and militia raised by General Sullivan, near by. The command of the
Continentals was offered to Lafayette, who wrote to D'Estaing in boyish
glee: "Never have I realized the charm of my profession, M. le Comte,
as I do now that I am to be allowed to practise it in company with
Frenchmen. I have never wished so much for the ability that I have not,
or for the experience that I shall obtain in the next twenty years if
God spares my life and allows us to have war. No doubt it is amusing
to you to see me presented as a general officer; I confess that I am
forced myself to smile sometimes at the idea, even in this country
where people do not smile so readily as we do at home."

Although scurvy had broken out with considerable violence on his ships,
the French admiral held himself ready to carry out his part of a speedy
attack. It was General Sullivan who had to ask a delay because [Pg
116]so few of the militia responded to his summons. While expressing
polite disappointment that so large a part of the American army was
"still at home," D'Estaing tried to emphasize the need of haste. He
believed in striking sudden, unexpected blows; and he had ever in mind
the approach of that fleet of Admiral Byron's. Nine precious days
passed, which the British commander at Newport utilized in preparing
for defense and in sending messengers to New York.

Meanwhile Lafayette returned to camp and started with his detachment
for Newport. On the march he received a letter from Washington which
must have caused him keen disappointment, since it took away half his
authority. General Greene was a native of Rhode Island, with special
knowledge of the region where the fighting was to take place, and
because of this it had been decided at the last moment to combine the
Continental troops with the militia and to give General Greene joint
command with Lafayette. The young man's answer was a model of cheerful
acquiescence. "Dear General: I have received your Excellency's favor
by General Greene, and have been much pleased with the arrival of a
gentleman who, not only on account of his merit and the justness of
his views, but also by his knowledge of the country and his popularity
in this state, may be very serviceable to the expedition. I willingly
part with half of my detachment, though I had a great dependence upon
them, as you find it convenient for the good of the service. Anything,
[Pg 117]my dear General, you will order, or even wish, shall always
be infinitely agreeable to me; and I will always feel happy in doing
anything which may please you or forward the public good. I am of the
same opinion as your Excellency that dividing our Continental troops
among the militia will have a better effect than if we were to keep
them together in one wing." Only a single sentence, near the end, in
which he referred to himself as being with the expedition as "a man of
war of the third class" betrayed his regret. Washington appears to have
been much pleased and relieved by this reply, for he realized that he
was drawing heavily upon Lafayette's store of patience.

As it turned out, neither Greene nor Lafayette had authority enough to
quarrel over or any glory in the enterprise, for on the 10th of August,
at the moment when the combined attack was about to begin, the relief
expedition of Admiral Howe's ships loomed suddenly out of the fog.
The French vessels had been placed only with a view to an attack upon
land, and most of the sailors had been disembarked to take part in it.
D'Estaing had to get them hurriedly back again and to prepare for a
sea-fight. Before this was over a wind-storm of great fury arose. It
separated the combatants, but left D'Estaing so crippled that he was
obliged to put into Boston for repairs.

Some of these events were of a character no human foresight could
prevent. All of them held possibilities of misunderstanding, and these
misunderstandings were increased tenfold by differences in nationality,
[Pg 118]in temper, and in language. Some of the French thought
General Sullivan deliberately and jealously tried to block success.
He reproached the French admiral for going to Boston after the storm
instead of returning to his aid. Lafayette's very eagerness subjected
him to criticism, yet he was the one man involved who understood
the temperament of both the French and the Americans. The burden of
explaining, of soothing, of trying to arrange the thousand prickly
details of the situation fell upon him. Twice he rode to Boston and
back for conferences with D'Estaing, making the journey of seventy
miles once by night in six and a half hours--unexampled speed for those
days. Such work now would be called the work of a liaison officer. He
had need of all his tact, and even his sweet temper grew acid under the
strain. He was strongly moved to fight a duel with General Sullivan;
and both Washington and Congress had to intervene before the French
admiral was completely assured of America's belief in his "zeal and
attachment," and before Lafayette could be thoroughly appeased.

Fond as he was of America, Lafayette was a Frenchman first of all. He
had assured D'Estaing that he would rather fight as a common soldier
under the French flag than as a general officer anywhere else. The
coming of the French fleet had been to all intents a declaration of
war by his country against England; and when the autumn was far enough
advanced to make it certain there would be no more military activity in
America before the next spring, he asked permission to return to France
and offer his sword to his king.

[Pg 119]Washington, who had more sympathy with the impulses of youth
than we are apt to give him credit for, saw that after the trying
experiences of the past few weeks a leave of absence would be the
best thing for Lafayette and also for his American friends. The young
man's nerves were completely on edge. He had not only wanted to fight
General Sullivan and controlled the desire; he had actually sent a
challenge, against the advice of Washington and Admiral d'Estaing, to
the Earl of Carlisle, an Englishman in America on official business,
because of some words the latter had used which Lafayette regarded as
an insult to the French. Besides these grievances, his imagination
was working overtime on a grand new scheme for the conquest of Canada
which Washington could no more indorse than he could approve the desire
to shed blood in private quarrels. The young man's friendship was too
valuable to make it politic continually to thwart him. Undoubtedly
this was a case where absence would make the heart grow fonder. Very
possibly also the wise general foresaw how much good Lafayette might
do in Paris as an advocate of American interests during the next few
months.

Lafayette did not wish to sever his relations with the Continental
army. All he asked was a leave of absence, and this Congress readily
granted in a set of complimentary resolutions, adding for good measure
a letter "To our great, faithful, and beloved friend and ally, Louis
the Sixteenth, King of France and Navarre," telling what a very wise
[Pg 120]and gallant and patient and excellent young man he was. But it
was weeks after this permission was given before Lafayette left
America. Congress arranged, as a compliment, that he should sail from
Boston on the frigate _Alliance_, one of the best of the nation's
war-vessels. Lafayette made his visits of ceremony, wrote his notes of
farewell, and set out from Philadelphia in a cold rain one day late
in October. Ordinarily he would not have minded such a storm. He had
endured the life at Valley Forge and discomforts of the winter trip
to Canada with apparent ease; but to a year of such campaigning had
been added several months of work and worry in connection with the
French fleet. The two together had told upon his strength, and the
storm added the finishing touch. He became really ill, but, suffering
with fever, rode on, unwilling to delay his journey for mere weather,
and unwilling, too, to fail in courtesy to the inhabitants of the many
towns on his way who wished to do him honor. He fortified himself for
the receptions and functions they had planned by frequent draughts of
tea and spirits, which made his condition worse instead of better.
By the time he reached Fishkill, New York, he was unable to proceed
farther. His fever raged for three weeks, and the news spread that he
would not recover. The concern manifested showed what a firm hold he
had made for himself in American affection. Civilians spoke of him
lovingly and sorrowfully as "the Marquis," while in the army, where
he was known as "the soldier's friend," grief was even more sincere.
Washington sent Surgeon-General Cochran, who had cared for him in
[Pg 121]Bethlehem, to take charge of the case, and rode himself almost
daily the eight miles from headquarters to make inquiries, never
entering the sick-room, and often turning away with tears in his eyes
at the report given him. Lafayette, racked with fever and headache, was
sure he would never live to reach France again. The idea of leaving
the world at the early age of twenty-one did not trouble him; he felt
that he would gladly compromise on three more months of life, provided
he could see his family and be assured of the happy outcome of the
American war.

After the fever left him and he slowly regained his strength he spent a
few happy days as Washington's guest before proceeding on his journey
to Boston. The elder man's farewell was "very tender, very sad," and
Lafayette rode away in company with the good Doctor Cochran, who had
orders to watch him like a hawk until he was safely on the ship. After
this parting the young man was more than ever convinced that Washington
was a great man and his own very warm personal friend. He wondered how
anybody could accuse him of being cold and unsympathetic.


[Pg 122]XIV

NEAR-MUTINY AND NEAR-IMPRISONMENT


When he reached Boston the crew of the _Alliance_ had not been fully
made up. The authorities offered to impress enough men to complete
it, but Lafayette objected on principle to that way of obtaining
sailors. They were finally secured by enlistment, but many of them
were questionable characters, either English deserters or English
prisoners of war. With such a crew the _Alliance_ put to sea on the
11th of January, 1779, upon a voyage short for that time of year, but
as tumultuous as it was brief. Excitement and discomfort began with a
tempest off the Banks of Newfoundland which the frigate weathered with
difficulty. Lafayette, who was always a poor sailor, longed for calm,
even if it had to be found at the bottom of the sea; but that was only
the beginning, the real excitement occurring about two hundred leagues
off the French coast.

Lafayette's own account explains that "by a rather immoral proclamation
his Britannic Majesty encouraged revolt among crews," offering them the
money value of ships captured and brought into English ports as "rebel"
[Pg 123]vessels--"a result which could only be obtained by the massacre
of officers and those who objected." A plot of this nature was entered
into by the English deserters and prisoners among the sailors on the
_Alliance_. A cry of "A sail!" was to bring officers and passengers
hurrying upon deck and shots from four cannon, carefully trained and
loaded beforehand, were to blow them to bits. The time was fixed for
four o'clock in the morning, but, fortunately, it was postponed until
the same time in the afternoon, and in the interval the plot was
disclosed to an American sailor who was mistaken by the conspirators
for an Irishman on account of the fine brogue he had acquired through
much sailing "in those latitudes." They offered him command of the
frigate. He pretended to accept, but was able to warn the captain and
Lafayette only one short hour before the time fixed for the deed. That
was quite enough, however. The officers and passengers appeared upon
deck ahead of time, sword in hand, and gathering the loyal sailors
about them, called up the rest one by one. Thirty-three were put in
irons. Evidence pointed to an even greater number of guilty men, but
it was taken for granted that the rest might be relied upon, though
only the Americans and French were really trusted. A week later the
_Alliance_ sailed happily into Brest floating the new American flag.

The last word Lafayette had received from his family was already eight
months old. He hurried toward Paris, but the news of his arrival
traveled faster, and he found the city on tiptoe to see him. "On my
[Pg 124]arrival," says the _Memoirs_, "I had the honor to be consulted
by all the Ministers and, what was much better, embraced by all the
ladies. The embraces ceased next day, but I enjoyed for a longer
time the confidence of the Cabinet and favor at Versailles, and also
celebrity in Paris." His father-in-law, who had been so very bitter
at his departure, received him amiably, a friendliness which touched
Lafayette. "I was well spoken of in all circles, even after the favor
of the queen had secured for me command of the regiment of the King's
Dragoons." This was no other than the old De Noailles Cavalry in which
he had served as a boy.

Merely as a matter of form, however, he had to submit to a week's
imprisonment because he had left the country against the wishes of
the king. Instead of being shut in the Bastille, his prison was
the beautiful home of his father-in-law, where Adrienne and the
baby awaited him; and during that week its rooms were filled with
distinguished visitors, come ostensibly to see the Duc d'Ayen. But
even this delightful travesty of imprisonment did not begin until the
prodigal had gone to Versailles for his first interview with the king's
chief advisers. After a few days he wrote to Louis XVI, "acknowledging
my happy fault." The king summoned him to his presence to receive "a
gentle reprimand" which ended in smiles and compliments, and he was
restored to liberty with the hint that it would be well for a time to
avoid crowded places where the common people of Paris, who so dearly
loved a hero, "might consecrate his disobedience."

[Pg 125]For the next few months he led a busy life, a favorite in
society, an unofficial adviser of the government, called here and there
to give first-hand testimony about men and motives in far-off America,
making up lost months in as many short minutes with Adrienne, winning
the heart of his new little daughter, assuming command of his "crack"
regiment, so different in appearance from the ragged ranks he had
commanded under Washington; and last, but by no means least in his own
estimation, laying plans to accomplish by one bold stroke two military
purposes dear to his heart--discomfiting the English and securing money
for the American cause.

He had seen such great results undertaken and accomplished in America
with the slenderest means that the recklessness with which Europeans
spent money for mere show seemed to him almost wicked. He used to
tell himself that the cost of a single fête would equip an army in
the United States. M. de Maurepas had once said that he was capable
of stripping Versailles for the sake of his beloved Americans. It was
much more in accordance with his will to seize the supplies for America
from England herself. He planned a descent upon the English coast by
two or three frigates under John Paul Jones and a land force of fifteen
hundred men commanded by himself, to sail under the American flag, fall
upon rich towns like Bristol and Liverpool, and levy tribute.

Lafayette's brain worked in two distinct ways. His tropic imagination
stopped at nothing, and completely ran away with his common sense when
[Pg 126]once it got going, as, for instance, while he lay recovering
from his wound at Bethlehem. Very different from this was the clever,
quick wit with which he could take advantage of momentary chances in
battle, as he had demonstrated when he and his little force dropped
between the jaws of the trap closing upon them at Barren Hill.
Fortunately in moments of danger it was usually his wit, not his
imagination, that acted, and he took excellent care of the men under
him; but when he had nothing in the way of hard facts to pin his mind
to earth, and gave free rein to his desires, he was not practical. In
this season of wild planning he not only invented the scheme for a
bucaneering expedition in company with John Paul Jones; he mapped out
an uprising in Ireland, but decided that the time was not yet ripe for
that.

While his plan for a descent upon the English coast came to nothing, it
may be said to have led to much, for it interested the Ministry, and
was abandoned only in favor of a more ambitious scheme of attacking
England with the help of Spain. That, too, passed after it was
found that England was on the alert; but it had given Lafayette his
opportunity to talk about America in and out of season, and to urge the
necessity for helping the United States win independence as a means of
crippling England, if not for her own sake. As the most popular social
lion of the moment his words carried far, and as the most earnest
advocate of America in France he was indeed what he called himself, the
link that bound the two countries together. The outcome was that after
[Pg 127]the collapse of the project for an expedition against England
nobody could see a better way of troubling his Britannic Majesty than
by following Lafayette's advice; whereupon he redoubled his efforts and
arguments.

Indeed, he exceeded the wishes of the Americans themselves. He wanted
to send ships and soldiers as well as money and supplies, but with the
fiasco of the attack upon Newport fresh in their minds Congress and our
country were chary of asking for more help of that kind. He assured M.
de Vergennes that it was characteristic of Americans to believe that in
three months they would no longer need help of any kind. He wrote to
Washington that he was insisting upon money with such stress that the
Director of Finances looked upon him as a fiend; but he argued also in
France that the Americans would be glad enough to see a French army by
the time it got there.

A plan drawn up by him at the request of M. de Vergennes has been
called the starting-point of the events that led to the surrender of
Cornwallis, because without French help that event could not have
occurred. In this view of the case, the work he did in Paris and at
Versailles was his greatest contribution to the cause of American
independence. Another general might easily have done all that he did in
the way of winning battles on American soil, but no other man in France
had his enthusiasm and his knowledge, or the persistence to fill men's
ears and minds and hearts with thoughts of America as he did.

[Pg 128]After it had been decided to send over another military force
it was natural for him to hope that he might be given command of it,
though nobody knew better than he that his rank did not entitle him
to the honor since he was only a colonel in France, even if he did
hold the commission of a major-general in the United States. Having
become by this time really intimate with M. de Vergennes, he gave
another proof of the sweet reasonableness of his disposition by frankly
presenting the whole matter in writing to him. He worked out in detail
two "suppositions," the first assuming that he was to be given command
of the expedition, the second that he was not, stating in each case
what he thought ought to be done. Quite frankly he announced his
preference for the first supposition, but quite simply and unmistakably
he made it plain that he would work just as earnestly for the success
of the undertaking in one case as in the other.

It was the second of these plans that the Ministry preferred and
adopted practically as he prepared it. After this had been decided he
found himself, early one spring day in 1780, standing before Louis
XVI, in his American uniform, taking his leave. He was to go ahead of
the expedition and announce its coming; to work up a welcome for it,
if he found lingering traces of distrust; and to resume command of his
American division and do all he could to secure effective co-operation;
in short, to take up his work of liaison officer again on a scale
greater than before.


[Pg 129]XV

HELP--AND DISAPPOINTMENT


When Lafayette sailed westward this time he owned two valued
possessions, partly French, partly American, which had not been his
when he landed at Brest. One was a sword, the gift Congress directed
Franklin to have made by the best workmen in Paris and presented
to him in recognition of his services. It was a wonderful sword,
with his motto "_Cur non?_" and no end of compliments worked into
the decorations of its gold-mounted hilt and scabbard. The other
possession was a brand-new baby. "Our next one absolutely must be a
boy!" Lafayette had written Adrienne when assuring her of his joy over
the birth of Anastasie; and obligingly the next one came a boy, born
on Christmas Eve, 1779. He had been immediately christened, as was the
custom, but he was given a name that no man of the house of Motier had
borne in all the seven hundred years of the family's consequential
existence. Even the young mother's tongue may have tripped a bit as she
whispered "George Washington" to the baby cuddled against her breast.
But no other name was possible for that child, and the day came, before
[Pg 130]he was grown, when it served as a talisman to carry him out of
danger.

Sailing westward on the _Hermione_, the father of this Franco-American
baby reached Boston late in April after an uneventful voyage, to
receive the heartiest welcome the staid old town could give him. The
docks were black with people and the streets lined with hurrahing
crowds as he rode to the governor's house where he was to be a guest.

Until the _Hermione_ came to anchor he did not know where Washington
was to be found, but he had a letter ready written to despatch at once,
begging him, if he chanced to be north of Philadelphia, to await his
arrival, since he brought news of importance. It took a week for this
message to reach Washington's headquarters at Morristown, and three
days later Lafayette was there himself, greeting and being greeted
by his chief with a heartiness which showed their genuine delight at
being together again. Having been absent for more than a year, he had
much to learn about the progress of the war; and what he learned was
not reassuring. He knew in a general way how things had gone, but the
details showed how weak the American forces really were.

Most of the fighting had been in the South. Savannah had been taken
before Lafayette sailed for France. The British had followed up this
success by sending a large force to Georgia; Southern Tories had
been roused, and civil war had spread throughout the entire region.
At present the British were advancing upon Charleston. In the [Pg
131]North the two armies still played their waiting game, the British
actually in New York, and Washington in a position from which he could
guard the Hudson, help Philadelphia in case of need, and occasionally
do something to harass the enemy. Frequently the harassing was done
by the other side, however. During the summer of 1779 the British had
ravaged the Connecticut Valley. Washington refused to be tempted away
from the Hudson, and the brightest spot in the annals of that year had
been the capture of Stony Point while the British were thus engaged.
Lafayette's acquaintance, "Mad Anthony" Wayne, had taken it in a most
brilliant assault.

But that was only one episode and the history of the year could be
summed up in eight words--discouragement, an empty treasury, unpaid
troops, dwindling numbers. Washington's own army was reduced to about
six thousand men, with half of these scarcely fit for duty. They were
only partly clothed, and had been only partly fed for a long time.
Their commander said of them, sadly, but with pride, that during their
terms of service they had subsisted upon "every kind of horse-food
except hay." Lafayette expected to find the army weak, but this was a
state of exhaustion of which he had not dreamed. It was very hard to
have to report such things to Paris; in truth, for some time after his
return he avoided reporting details as much as possible.

His coming, with the news that ships and men and money were on the way,
[Pg 132]must have seemed little less than a happy miracle. But would
the help come in time? To make it effective the country must renew its
enthusiasm and meet assistance half-way. Washington frankly told a
committee of Congress that unless this could be done the coming of the
French would be a disaster instead of a benefit. In other words, the
country was so weak that the next effort was almost sure to be the last
one. If it failed, it would be too exhausted to rally again.

Lafayette left headquarters and went to Philadelphia to exert whatever
personal influence he possessed upon Congress; but under the law
Congress could raise neither men nor money. All it could do was to
recommend such action to the thirteen different states. Their thirteen
different legislatures had to deliberate and act, all of which took
time when time was most urgent.

In France the proposed military expedition had roused much enthusiasm.
Young men flocked to enlist, as eager to fight for liberty in America
as our boys of 1918 were eager to reach France on a similar errand.
Every available spot on the transports was crowded. The commanding
general regretfully left behind his two favorite war-horses because
he knew that twenty men could go in the space they would occupy. Even
after the ships had left the harbor recruits came to him on the cutter
that brought the last despatches, begging to be taken aboard, but had
to be sent back because there was literally not room for another man.

Yet the numbers that came to America were, after all, disappointingly
[Pg 133]small: far less than originally planned. That was because
the English managed to blockade all except the first division in the
harbor of Brest. This first division sailed on the 2d of May with
Admiral Ternay in command of the ships, and the gallant, cool-headed
Rochambeau, who was already fighting at the time Lafayette was born,
in command of the soldiers. He had five thousand effective men crowded
into the transports that left Brest with their convoy on a sunny day,
the many white sails filling to a breeze described as _"joli frais."_
But in spite of this auspicious beginning it was a tedious crossing,
longer in point of time than the first voyage of Columbus. The weary
soldiers soon came to call their transports "sabots" (wooden shoes),
and indeed some of them were scarcely larger. As our coast was neared
they crawled along at three knots an hour, with drums beating every
fifteen minutes to keep the ships in touch and prevent their drifting
away from each other in the heavy, persistent fog.

Washington had hoped that before the arrival of the French he could
gather sufficient force to justify him in attacking New York with their
help, for he was convinced that one success here would end the war. His
army was indeed "augmented more than one-half," as Lafayette wrote his
wife, but before the ships made their slow way across the Atlantic the
British had captured Charleston, and Clinton, who assisted Cornwallis
in that undertaking, had returned to New York with a force that raised
his strength there to twelve thousand regulars, in addition to Admiral
[Pg 134]Arbuthnot's fleet and several thousand militia and refugees.
Not all the earnestness of Washington, the efforts of Congress, nor the
enthusiasm of Lafayette had been able to raise men enough to attack
under these circumstances; and the signals displayed on Point Judith
and "the island of Block House" to guide the French directed them to
go to Newport as a convenient place from which the attack might yet be
made if events favored the allies.

Lafayette went to Newport to meet Rochambeau and plan co-operation. By
the time he reached there the situation was still worse, for an English
fleet which left home about the time Rochambeau sailed from France had
appeared, giving the British superior force alike on sea and land.

Admiral Ternay, who was not aggressive by nature, saw a repetition of
D'Estaing's failure looming 

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