Disputes arose as to the best plan of campaign; it was argued whether the men of the two nations would fight better separately or together. Then the English fleet appeared in the distance, and D’Estaing, considering that it was his chief business to destroy the enemy squadron, at once stood out to sea. A violent storm came up, driving the two fleets apart, and doing great damage to ships on both sides. When the storm subsided D’Estaing insisted on sailing his fleet to Boston to make needed repairs, and so the joint expedition came to an end, without having struck a blow. General Sullivan’s plans were in confusion. Lafayette rode to Boston and begged the French admiral to come back as soon as he could. At last D’Estaing promised to land his sailors and march them overland to Newport; but before he could do this the British were strongly reinforced, and Lafayette had to gallop back to protect his own rear-guard forces. The Americans were in peril, but again, as at Monmouth, he was able to save them from defeat.
There was great disappointment over the failure of the attack on Newport, and this was increased by the feeling that there had been disputes between the American and French commanders. Lafayette had all he could do to make each side appreciate the other. In this he was greatly helped by Washington, who wrote to both the French and the American generals, soothing their discontent, patching up their differences, and urging future union for the sake of the common cause.
It was now autumn, and there was little prospect of a further campaign that year. Wearied by the many misunderstandings, distressed by the failure of the joint attack, homesick and sad over the news of the death of his little daughter in France, Lafayette decided to ask for a leave of absence and go back to France on furlough. In October he reached Philadelphia and presented his request. Washington, much as he disliked to lose Lafayette’s services even for a short time, seconded his wishes. And Congress, which only sixteen months before had hesitated to accept his services, now did all it could to pay him the greatest honor. It thanked him for his high assistance and zeal, it directed the American minister in Paris to present him with a sword of honor, and it ordered its best war-ship, the frigate Alliance, to convey him to France. Henry Laurens, the president of Congress, wrote to King Louis XVI. that Congress could not allow Lafayette to depart without testifying its appreciation of his courage, devotion, patience, and the uniform excellence of conduct which had won the confidence of the United States and the affection of its citizens.
And finally Monsieur Gérard, the French minister at Philadelphia, wrote to his government in Paris, “You know how little inclined I am to flattery, but I cannot resist saying that the prudent, courageous, and amiable conduct of the Marquis de Lafayette has made him the idol of the Congress, the army, and the people of America.”
With words like these ringing in his ears, Lafayette said good-bye to George Washington in October, 1778, and rode away from camp, bound for Boston, where he was to board the frigate Alliance.
VII
THE FRENCHMAN IN THE FIELD AGAIN
Lafayette, on his way to board the Alliance, rode into the town of Fishkill-on-the-Hudson, and there fell ill of fever. He had been entertained by people all the way from Philadelphia to the camp on the Hudson, and these constant receptions, combined with chilly and wet weather, brought on malaria. The Marquis was very sick; Washington rode daily from his camp eight miles away to inquire about Lafayette’s condition, and insisted on his own physician taking charge of the patient. And when the young Frenchman recovered the commander-in-chief sent his physician on to Boston with him, and wrote him, “I am persuaded, my dear marquis, that there is no need of fresh proofs to convince you either of my affection for you personally or of the high opinion I entertain of your military talents and merit.”
The strongest affection bound these two men, so different in many respects, so alike in their love of liberty and honor. On board his ship in Boston Harbor Lafayette added a postscript to a letter to Washington. “The sails are just going to be hoisted, my dear general,” he said, “and I have but time to take my last leave of you.... Farewell. I hope your French friend will ever be dear to you; I hope I shall soon see you again, and tell you myself with what emotion I now leave the coast you inhabit and with what affection and respect I am forever, my dear general, your respectful and sincere friend, Lafayette.”