Lafayette

by Martha Foote Crow

Everybody knows what the hardships of the American army were in those dark days of the Revolution, the winter of 1777-78. Washington had suffered defeat and disaster; but he, like his faithful followers, was of the temper that could not be depressed. At Valley Forge the men built a city of wooden huts, and these afforded at least a shelter from the storms, though they were scarcely better than dungeons. Their sufferings were terrible. They were inadequately clothed; many had neither coats, hats, shirts, nor shoes; they were in want of food; illness followed. Many had to have feet or legs amputated because of the effects of freezing. Lafayette had to see all this, and to him their patient endurance seemed nothing short of miraculous.

He even tried to make merry a little over their sad situation, and over the nearness of the British army, for he wrote to his wife, "I cannot tell whether it will be convenient for General Howe to make us a visit in our new settlement; but we shall try to receive him with proper consideration if he does."

For the moment the American cause was under a cloud. Should Lafayette return to France now? If he did, this would have been the interpretation of his act—he had lost faith in the American undertaking. This belief would have been heralded throughout the British army and would soon have been echoed in France. Lafayette did not wish to shoulder the responsibility of the effect his withdrawal might have on the hopes of help from French sympathy and French resources, and on the determination of other recruits who might come over and bring aid. He decided to remain with Washington and the American army and share whatever fate might be theirs. So Lafayette courageously remained. Accustomed to a life of luxury, he nevertheless adapted himself at once to the melancholy conditions at Valley Forge.

There was a strange surprise awaiting Lafayette when he came to know the American situation more intimately. Before he left Europe, his sincere mind had clothed the cause of liberty in this country in the most rosy colors. He thought that here almost every man was a lover of liberty who would rather die free than live a slave. Before leaving France he thought that all good Americans were united in one mind, and that confidence in the commander in chief was universal and unbounded; he now believed that if Washington were lost to America, the Revolution would not survive six months. He found that there were open dissensions in Congress; that there were parties who hated one another; people were criticizing without knowing anything about war methods; and there were many small jealousies. All this disheartened him greatly; he felt that it would be disastrous if slavery, dishonor, ruin, and the unhappiness of a whole world should result from trifling differences between a few jealous-minded men.

After a time the disaffected ones in the army tried to win Lafayette from his close allegiance to Washington. They entertained him with ideas of glory and shining projects—a clever way to entice him into their schemes. Deceived for a time, he received their proffers of friendship and their flattering compliments, but when he noted that some of them were able to speak slightingly and even disrespectfully of the commander in chief, he dashed the temptation away with absolute contempt.

Filled with the desire to ward off all possible peril from an influence which he knew would disrupt the American cause, he impetuously started in to help. He sought an interview with Washington, but not finding an early opportunity for this, he wrote him a long and noble letter which has been preserved. In it he said:

"I am now fixed to your fate, and I shall follow it and sustain it by my sword as by all means in my power. You will pardon my importunity in favor of the sentiment which dictated it. Youth and friendship make me, perhaps, too warm, but I feel the greatest concern at all that has happened for some time since."

In answer to this impulsive and true-hearted letter, General Washington wrote one of the most distinctive and characteristic of all the hundreds of letters of his that are preserved. He said:

"Your letter of yesterday conveyed to me fresh proof of that friendship and attachment which I have happily experienced since the first of our acquaintance and for which I entertain sentiments of the purest affection. It will ever constitute part of my happiness to know that I stand well in your opinion because I am satisfied that you can have no views to answer by throwing out false colors, and that you possess a mind too exalted to condescend to low arts and intrigues to acquire a reputation."

It must have been welcome to the harassed heart of the man who stood at the head of so great a cause to receive the proofs of this young man's friendship and of his absolutely loyal support. Washington closed the letter with these gracious and inspiriting words: