MEMOIRS CORRESPONDENCE AND MANUSCRIPTS OF GENERAL LAFAYETTE

By Lafayette

Published By His Family.
Entered according to the act of Congress, in the year 1837,
by William A. Duer,
In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.

Respectfully to collect and scrupulously to arrange the manuscripts of which an irreparable misfortune has rendered them depositaries, have been for the Family of General Lafayette the accomplishment of a sacred duty.

To publish those manuscripts without any commentary, and place them, unaltered, in the hands of the friends of Liberty, is a pious and solemn homage which his children now offer with confidence to his memory.

GEORGE WASHINGTON LAFAYETTE.

ADVERTISEMENT OF THE AMERICAN EDITOR.

It was the desire of the late General Lafayette, that this edition of his Memoirs and Correspondence should be considered as a legacy of the American people. His representatives have accordingly pursued a course which they conceived the best adapted to give effect to his wishes, by furnishing a separate edition for this country, without any reservation for their own advantage, beyond the transfer of the copyright as an indemnity for the expense and risk of publication.

In this edition are inserted some letters which will not appear in the editions published in Paris and London. They contain details relating to the American Revolution, and render the present edition more complete, or, at least, more interesting to Americans. Although written during the first residence of General Lafayette in America—when he was little accustomed to write in the English language—the letters in question are given exactly as they came from his pen—and as well as the others in the collection written by him in that language are distinguished from those translated from the French by having the word "Original" prefixed to them.

It was intended that these letters should have been arranged among those in the body of the work; in the order of their respective dates; but as the latter have been stereotyped before the former had been transmitted to the American editor, this design was rendered impracticable. They have therefore from necessity been added in a supplemental form with the marginal notes which seemed requisite for their explanation.

Columbia College, N. Y., July, 1837.

CONTENTS

[ ADVERTISEMENT ]

[ CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. ]

[ NOTICE BY THE EDITORS. ]

[ TO THE READER.~{1} ]

[ FIRST VOYAGE AND FIRST CAMPAIGN IN AMERICA 1777-1778. ]

[ FRAGMENTS EXTRACTED FROM VARIOUS MANUSCRIPTS.~{1} ]

[ A. — DEPARTURE FOR AMERICA IN 1777. ]

[ B. — FIRST INTERVIEW BETWEEN GENERAL WASHINGTON AND GENERAL LAFAYETTE. ]

[ C. — ON THE MILITARY COMMANDS DURING THE WINTER OF 1778, AND THE FRENCH IN THE SERVICE OF THE UNITED STATES. ]

[ D. — RETREAT OF BARREN-HILL. ]

[ E. — ARRIVAL OF THE FRENCH FLEET. ]

[ F. — DISSENSIONS BETWEEN THE FRENCH FLEET AND THE AMERICAN ARMY. ]

[ CORRESPONDENCE. 1777—1778. ]

[ TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.~{1} ]

[ TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.~{1} ]

[ FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON. ]

[ TO GENERAL WASHINGTON. ]

[ TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE. ]

[ TO GENERAL WASHINGTON. ]

[ TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE. ]

[ TO GENERAL WASHINGTON. ]

[ FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. ]

[ TO BARON DE STEUBEN. ]

[ FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. ]

[ FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO MAJOR-GENERAL GREENE. ]

[ SECOND VOYAGE TO AMERICA, AND CAMPAIGNS OF 1780 & 1781. ]

[ CORRESPONDENCE. ]

[ EXTRACTS OF SEVERAL LETTERS TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.~{1} ]

[ ADDITIONAL CORRESPONDENCE. ]

[ APPENDIX I. ]

[ APPENDIX II ]

CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
Notice by the Editors
FIRST VOYAGE AND FIRST CAMPAIGN IN AMERICA—1777, 1778.
Memoirs written by myself, until the year 1780
FRAGMENTS EXTRACTED FROM VARIOUS MANUSCRIPTS
A.—Departure for America in 1777
B.—First Interview between General Washington
and General Lafayette
C.—On the Military commands during the Winter of 1778
D.—Retreat of Barren Hill
E.—Arrival of the French Fleet
F.—Dissensions between the French Fleet
and the American Army
CORRESPONDENCE—1777, 1778:
To the Duke d'Ayen. London, March 9, 1777
To Madame de Lafayette. On board the Victory, May 30
To Madame de Lafayette. Charlestown, June 19
To Madame de Lafayette. Petersburg, July 17
To Madame de Lafayette.—July 23
To Madame de Lafayette. Philadelphia, Sept. 12
To Madame de Lafayette.—Oct. 1
To M. de Vergennes, Minister of Foreign affairs.
Whitemarsh Camp, Oct. 24
To Madame de Lafayette. Whitemarsh Camp, Oct. 29, and Nov. 6
To General Washington. Haddonfeld, Nov. 26
To the Duke d'Ayen. Camp Gulph, Pennsylvania, Dec. 16
To General Washington. Camp, Dec. 30
To General Washington. Head Quarters, Dec. 31
To General Washington. Valley Forge, Dec. 31
To Madame de Lafayette. Camp, near Valley Forge, Jan. 6, 1778
To General Washington
To Madame de Lafayette. York. Feb 3
To General Washington. Hermingtown, Feb. 9
To General Washington. Albany, Feb. 19
To General Washington.—Feb. 23
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Head Quarters, March 10
To Baron de Steuben. Albany, March 12
Fragment of a Letter to the President of Congress.
Albany, March 20
To General Washington. Albany, March 25
To Madame de Lafayette. Valley Forge Camp,
in Pennsylvania, April 14
To Madame de Lafayette. Germantown, April 28
To General Washington. Valley Forge Camp, May 19
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Camp, May 17
To the Marquis de Lafayette. (Instructions.)
To Madame de Lafayette. Valley Forge Camp, June 16
To the Marquis de Lafayette. (Instructions.)
To General Washington. Ice Town, June 26
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Cranberry, June 26
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
White Plains, July 22
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Head Quarters, White Plains, July 27
To General Washington. Providence, Aug. 6
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
White Plains, Aug. 10
To General Washington. Camp before Newport, Aug. 25
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
White Plains, Sept.
From General Washington to Major-General Sullivan.
Head Quarters, White Plains, Sept. 1
From General Washington to Major-General Greene.
Head Quarters, White Plains, Sept. 1
To General Washington. Tyverton, Sept. I
To General Washington. Camp, near Bristol, Sept. 7
To the Duke d'Ayen. Bristol, near Rhode Island, Sept. 11
To Madame de Lafayette. Bristol, near Rhode Island, Sept. 13
President Laurens to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Philadelphia, Sept. 13
Marquis de Lafayette to President Laurens. Camp, Sept. 23
To General Washington. Warren, Sept. 24
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Fredericksburg, Sept. 25
To General Washington. Camp near Warren, Sept. 24
To General Washington. Boston, Sept. 28
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Fishkill, Oct. 4
Marquis de Lafayette to President Laurens.
Philadelphia, Oct. 13
President Laurens to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Philadelphia, Oct. 24
To General Washington. Philadelphia, Oct. 24
Lord Carlisle to M. de Lafayette Marquis de Lafayette
To President Laurens. Philadelphia, Oct. 26
Fragment of a Letter from the French Minister, M. Gerard,
to Count de Vergennes.—October
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Philadelphia, Dec. 29
From General Washington to General Franklin,
American Minister in France. Philadelphia, Dec. 28
To General Washington. Boston, January 5, 1779
To General Washington. On board the Alliance,
off Boston, January 11, 1779
SECOND VOYAGE TO AMERICA, AND CAMPAIGNS OF 1780, 1781.
HISTORICAL MEMOIRS OF 1779, 1780, and 1781.
CORRESPONDENCE—1779-1781
To Count de Vergennes. Paris, February 24, 1779
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Camp at Middlebrook, March 8
To M. de Vergennes, Paris, April 1, and April 26
To the President of Congress. St. Jean de Angeli,
near Rochefort, June 12
To General Washington. St. Jean de Angeli,
near Rochefort harbor, June 12
To the Count de Vergennes. Havre, July 30
To M. de Vergennes. Paris, August—
Dr. Franklin to the Marquis de Lafayette. Fassy, August 24
To Dr. Franklin. Havre, August 29
Page From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
West Point, December 30
To General Washington. Havre, October 7
To M. de Vergennes. Versailles, Feb. 22, 1780
To his Excellency General Washington.
At the entrance of Boston harbor, April 27
To M. de Vergennes. Waterburg, on the Boston road,
from the Camp, May 6
From General Washington. Morris Town, May—
To the Count de Rochambeau. Philadelphia, May 19
To General Washington. Camp at Preakness, July 4
To MM. le Comte de Rochambeau and le Chevalier de Ternay.
Camp before Dobb's Ferry, August 9
From Count de Rochambeau to M. de Lafayette. Newport, August 12
To MM. de Rochambeau and de Ternay. Camp, August 18
To M. de Rochambeau. Camp, August 18
From M. de Rochambeau. Newport, August 27
To the Chevalier de la Luzerne. Robinson House,
opposite West Point, Sept. 26
To Madame de Tessé. Camp, on the right side of North River,
near the Island of New York, October 4
To General Washington. Light Camp, October 30
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Head Quarters, October 30
To General Washington. Light Camp, November 13
To General Washington, Paramus, November 28
To his Excellency General Washington. Philadelphia, Dec. 5
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
New Windsor, December 14
To M. de Vergennes. New Windsor, on the North River,
January 30, 1781
To Madame de Lafayette. New Windsor, on the North River,
February 2
To General Washington. Elk, March 8
To General Washington. On board the Dolphin, March 9
To General Washington. Williamsburg, March 23
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
New Windsor, April 6
To General Washington. Elk, April 8
To Colonel Hamilton. Susquehannah Ferry, April 18
To General Washington. Baltimore, April 18
To General Washington. Alexandria, April 23
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette
New Windsor, May 4
From General Washington to Lund Washington.
New Windsor, April 30
To General Washington. Camp Wilton, on James River, May 17
From General Phillips to the Marquis de Lafayette.
British Camp at Osborn, April 28
From General Phillips to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Camp at Osborn, April 29
To Major General Phillips. American Camp, April 30
To Major-General Phillips.—May 3
Note for Captain Emyne.—May 15
Note from General Arnold to Captain Ragedale
To General Washington. Richmond, May 24
To General Washington. Camp, June 28
Extracts of several Letters to General Washington
To Madame de Lafayette. Camp, between the branches
of York River, August 24
To M. de Vergennes. Camp between the branches
of York River, August 24
To M de Maurepas. Camp, between the branches
of York River, August 24
To General Washington. Holt's Forge, September 1
To General Washington. Williamsburg, September 8
To General Washington. Camp before York, October 16
To M. de Maurepas. Camp near York, October 20
To M. de Vergennes. Camp near York, October 20
To Madame de Lafayette. On board La Ville de Paris,
Chesapeake Bay, October 22
The Marquis de Ségur to M. de Lafayette.—Dec. 5
To General Washington. Alliance, off Boston, December 21
ADDITIONAL CORRESPONDENCE.
To General Washington. Robins' Tavern, June 26, 1778
To General Washington. Cranbarry, June—
To General Washington.—June 28
To General Washington. Cranbarry, June 29
To the Count de Vergennes. St. Jean de Angeli, June, 1779
To the Count de Vergennes. Havre, July 9
To the President of Congress. Havre, October 7
To General Washington. Peekskill, July 20, 1780
To General Washington. Danbury, July 21
To General Washington. Hartford, July 22
To General Washington. Lebanon, July 23
To General Washington. Newport, July 26
To General Washington. Newport, July 26
To General Washington. Newport, July 29
To General Washington. Newport, July 31
To General Washington. Newport, August 1
To General Washington. Elizabethtown, October 27
To General Washington. Light Camp, October 27
To General Washington. Philadelphia, December 4
To General Washington.—December 5
To General Washington. Philadelphia, December 16
To General Washington. Philadelphia, March 2, 1781
To General Washington. Head of Elk, March 7
To General Washington. Off Turkey Point, March 9
To General Washington. York, March 15
To General Washington. Elk, April 10
To General Washington. Susquehannah Ferry, April 13
To General Washington. Susquehannah Ferry, April 13
To General Washington. Susquehannah Ferry, April 14
To Major-General Greene. Hanover Court House, April 28
To General Greene. Camp on Pamunkey River, May 3
To General Washington. Camp near Bottom's Creek, May 4
To General Washington. Richmond, May 8
To General Washington. Welton, north side of James River, May 18
To Colonel Hamilton. Richmond, May 23
To General Washington. Richmond, May 24
To General Washington. Camp between Rappanannock
and North Anna, June 3
To General Greene. Camp between Rappahannock
and North Anna, June 3
To General Greene. Allen's Creek, June 18
To General Greene. Mr. Tyter's Plantation, June 27
To General Greene. Ambler's Plantation, July 8
To General Washington. Mrs. Ruffin's, August 29
To General Washington. Holt's Forge, September 1
To General Washington. Camp Williamsburg, September 8
To General Washington. Williamsburg, September 10
To General Washington. Camp before York, Sept. 30
To General Washington.—November 29
APPENDIX.
I.—A Summary of the Campaign of 1781, explanatory of the Map
II.—Letter from M. de Lafayette to M. de Vergennes

NOTICE BY THE EDITORS.

Under the title of Revolution of America, are comprised eight years of M. de Lafayette's life, from the commencement of 1771 until the end of 1784. His three voyages to the United States divide those eight years into three periods: 1777, 1778; 1779-1781; and 1782-1784.~{1}

1st. Circumstantial Memoirs, written for his friends after the peace of Versailles, and which were to have extended to 1780, open this collection.

2nd. These are continued and completed by two detached relations, composed between 1800 and 1814; the first, which has no title, and might be called Notice of the American Life of General Lafayette, appears to have been written for a person intending to publish the history of the war, or of General Washington; the second is entitled, Observations on some portion of American History, by a friend of General Lafayette.

As these two relations, both written by M. de Lafayette, and which we designate under the names of Manuscript, No. 1, and manuscript, No. 2, contain a second, and occasionally a third, account of events already mentioned in the Memoirs, we have only inserted quotations from them.

3rd. A relation of the campaign in Virginia, in 1781, shall be inserted in its complete state.

4th. Extracts from the collection of the general's speeches, begun by him in 1829, will give some details of his third voyage to America (1784).

5th. With the account of each particular period that portion of the correspondence which may relate to it will be inserted. From a great number of letters, written from America, and addressed either to France or to America, or from France to America, those only have been suppressed whose repetitions or details, purely military, would render them uninteresting to the public.

6th. In the Correspondence, some letters have been inserted from General Washington, and other contemporaries, and also some historical records, of which M. de Lafayette had taken copies, or which have been extracted from various collections published in the United States.

Endnote

1. M. de Lafayette (Marie-Paul-Joseph-Roch-Yves-Gilbert Motier) born at Chavaniae, in Auvergne, the 6th of September, 1757; married the 11th of April, 1774; set out for America the 26th of April, 1777. The other dates will be mentioned in proper order, with each particular event. All the notes which are not followed by the name of M. de Lafayette, may be attributed to the members of his family, sole editors of this work.

TO THE READER.~{1}

When, devoted from early youth to the ambition of liberty, I beheld no limit to the path that I had opened for myself, it appeared to me that I was sufficiently fulfilling my destiny, and satisfying my glory, by rushing incessantly forward, and leaving to others the care of collecting the recollections, as well as the fruits, of my labour.

After having enjoyed an uninterrupted course of good fortune for fifteen years, I presented myself, with a favourable prospect of success, before the coalition of kings, and the aristocracy of Europe: I was overthrown by the simultaneous fury of French jacobinism. My person was then given up to the vengeance of my natural enemies, and my reputation to the calumnies of those self-styled patriots who had so lately violated every sworn and national guarantee. It is well known that the regimen of my five years' imprisonment was not favourable to literary occupations, and when, on my deliverance from prison, I was advised to write an explanation of my conduct, I was disgusted with all works of the kind, by the numerous memoirs or notices by which so many persons had trespassed upon the attention of the public. Events had also spoken for us; and many accusers, and many accusations, had fallen into oblivion.

As soon as I returned to France, my friends requested me to write memoirs: I found excuses for not doing so in my reluctance to judge with severity the first jacobin chiefs who have shared since in my proscription,—the Girondins, who have died for those very principles they had opposed and persecuted in me,—the king and queen, whose lamentable fate only allows me to pride myself upon some services I have rendered them,—and the vanquished royalists, who are at present deprived of fortune, and exposed to every arbitrary measure. I ought to add, likewise that, happy in my retreat, in the bosom of my family and occupied with agricultural pursuits, I know not how to purloin one moment from the enjoyments of my domestic life.

But my friends have renewed their request, and to comply in some degree with it, I have consented to place in order the few papers that I still possess and assemble together some relations which have been already published, and unite, by notes, the whole collection, in which my children and friends may one day find materials for a less insignificant work. As to myself, I acknowledge that my indolence in this respect is owing to the intimate conviction which I feel, that liberty will ultimately be established in the old as well as in the new world, and that then the history of our revolutions will put all things and all persons in their proper places.

Endnote

1. Although this notice, written a short time after the 18th Brumaire, be anterior to a great number of events, in the midst of which General Lafayette continued his public life, we have placed it in this part of the work, as a sort of general introduction to the various materials it contains.

FIRST VOYAGE AND FIRST CAMPAIGN IN AMERICA 1777-1778.

MEMOIRS WRITTEN BY MYSELF,~{1}

UNTIL THE YEAR 1780.

TO MY FRIENDS.

If I were to confound, as is too often done, obstinacy with firmness, I should blush at beginning these memoirs, after having so long refused to do so, and at even increasing their apparent egotism by my style, instead of sheltering myself under cover of the third person; but I will not yield a half compliance to the request of that tender friendship which is far more valuable to me than the ephemeral success which a journal might obtain. It is sufficient for me to know that this relation, intended for a few friends only, will never extend beyond their circle: it even possesses two very great advantages over many celebrated books: these are, that the public not being concerned in this work it cannot need a preface, and that the dedication of affection cannot require an epistle.

It would be too poetical to place myself at once in another hemisphere, and too minute to dwell upon the particulars of my birth, which soon followed the death of my father at Minden;~{2} of my education in Auvergne, with tender and revered relations; of my removal, at twelve years of age to a college at Paris,~{3} where I soon lost my virtuous mother,~{4} and where the death of her father rendered me rich, although I had been born, comparatively speaking, poor; of some schoolboy successes, inspired by the love of glory and somewhat disturbed by that of liberty; of my entrance into the regiment of the black musketeers, which only interrupted my studies on review days; and finally, of my marriage, at the age of sixteen, preceded by a residence at the academy of Versailles.~{5} I have still less to say relating to my entrance into the world; to the short favour I enjoyed as constituting one member of a youthful society; to some promises to the regiment de Noailles; and to the unfavourable opinion entertained of me owing to my habitual silence when I did not think the subjects discussing worthy of being canvassed. The bad effects produced by disguised self-love and an observing disposition, were not softened by a natural simplicity of manner, which, without being improper on any great occasion, rendered it impossible for me to bend to the graces of the court, or to the charms of a supper in the capital.

You ask me at what period I first experienced my ardent love of liberty and glory? I recollect no time of my life anterior to my enthusiasm for anecdotes of glorious deeds, and to my projects of travelling over the world to acquire fame. At eight years of age, my heart beat when I heard of a hyena that had done some injury, and caused still more alarm, in our neighbourhood, and the hope of meeting it was the object of all my walks. When I arrived at college, nothing ever interrupted my studies, except my ardent wish of studying without restraint. I never deserved to be chastised; but, in spite of my usual gentleness, it would have been dangerous to have attempted to do so; and I recollect with pleasure that, when I was to described in rhetoric a perfect courser, I sacrificed the hope of obtaining a premium, and described the one who, on perceiving the whip, threw down his rider. Republican anecdotes always delighted me, and when my new connexions wished to obtain for me a place at court, I did not hesitate displeasing them to preserve my independence.~{6} I was in that frame of mind when I first learnt the troubles in America; they only became thoroughly known in Europe in 1776, and the memorable declaration of the 4th of July reached France at the close of that same year.

After having crowned herself with laurels and enriched herself with conquests; after having become mistress of all seas; and after having insulted all nations, England had turned her pride against her own colonies. North America had long been displeasing to her; she wished to add new vexations to former injuries, and to destroy the most sacred privileges. The Americans, attached to the mother country, contented themselves at first with merely uttering complaints; they only accused the ministry, and the whole nation rose up against them; they were termed insolent and rebellious, and at length declared the enemies of their country: thus did the obstinacy of the king, the violence of the ministers, and the arrogance of the English nation, oblige thirteen of their colonies to render themselves independent. Such a glorious cause had never before attracted the attention of mankind; it was the last struggle of Liberty; and had she then been vanquished, neither hope nor asylum would have remained for her. The oppressors and oppressed were to receive a powerful lesson; the great work was to be accomplished, or the rights of humanity were to fall beneath its ruin. The destiny of France and that of her rival were to be decided at the same moment; England was to lose, with the new states, an important commerce, of which she derived the sole advantage,—one quarter of her subjects, who were constantly augmenting by a rapid increase of population, and by emigration from all parts of Europe,—in a word, more than half of the most beautiful portion of the British territory. But if she retained possession of her thirteen colonies, all was ended for our West Indies, our possessions in Asia and Africa, our maritime commerce, and consequently our navy and our political existence.

(1776.) When I first learnt the subject of the quarrel, my heart espoused warmly the cause of liberty, and I thought of nothing but of adding also the aid of my banner.~{7} Some circumstances, which it would be needless to relate, had taught me to expect only obstacles in this case from my own family; I depended, therefore, solely upon myself, and I ventured to adopt for a device on my arms these words—"Cur non?" that they might equally serve as an encouragement to my-self, and as a reply to others. Silas Deane was then at Paris; but the ministers feared to receive him, and his voice was overpowered by the louder accents of Lord Stormont. He despatched privately to America some old arms, which were of little use, and some young officers, who did but little good, the whole directed by M. de Beaumarchais; and when the English ambassador spoke to our court, it denied having sent any cargoes, ordered those that were preparing to be discharged, and dismissed from our ports all American privateers. Whilst wishing to address myself in a direct manner to Mr. Deane, I became the friend of Kalb, a German in our employ, who was applying for service with the insurgents, (the expression in use at that time,) and who became my interpreter. He was the person sent by M. de Choiseul to examine the English colonies; and on his return he received some money, but never succeeded in obtaining an audience, so little did that minister in reality think of the revolution whose retrograde movements some persons have inscribed to him! When I presented to Mr. Deane my boyish face, (for I was scarcely nineteen years of age,) I spoke more of my ardour in the cause than of my experience; but I dwelt much upon the effect my departure would excite in France, and he signed our mutual agreement. The secrecy with which this negotiation and my preparations were made appears almost a miracle; family, friends, ministers; French spies and English spies, all were kept completely in the dark as to my intentions. Amongst my discreet confidants, I owe much to M. du Boismartin,~{8} secretary of the Count de Broglie, and to the Count de Broglie himself, whose affectionate heart, when all his efforts to turn me from this project had proved in vain, entered into my views with even paternal tenderness.

Preparations were making to send a vessel to America, when very bad tidings arrived from thence. New York, Long Island, White Plains, Fort Washington, and the Jerseys, had seen the American forces successively destroyed by thirty-three thousand Englishmen or Germans. Three thousand Americans alone remained in arms, and these were closely pursued by General Howe. From that moment all the credit of the insurgents vanished; to obtain a vessel for them was impossible: the envoys themselves thought it right to express to me their own discouragement, and persuade me to abandon my project. I called upon Mr. Deane, and I thanked him for his frankness.

"Until now, sir," said I, "you have only seen my ardour in your cause, and that may not prove at present wholly useless. I shall purchase a ship to carry out your officers; we must feel confidence in the future, and it is especially in the hour of danger that I wish to share your fortune."~{9} My project was received with approbation; but it was necessary afterwards to find money, and to purchase and arm a vessel secretly: all this was accomplished with the greatest despatch.

The period was, however, approaching, which had been long fixed for my taking a journey to England;~{10} I could not refuse to go without risking the discovery of my secret, and by consenting to take this journey I knew I could better conceal my preparations for a greater one. This last measure was also thought most expedient by MM. Franklin and Deane; for the doctor himself was then in France; and although I did not venture to go to his house, for fear of being seen, I corresponded with him through M. Carmichael, an American less generally known. I arrived in London with M. de Poix; and I first paid my respects to Bancroft, the American, and afterwards to his British Majesty. A youth of nineteen may be, perhaps, too fond of playing a trick upon the king he is going to fight with,—of dancing at the house of Lord Germaine minister for the English colonies, and at the house of Lord Rawdon, who had just returned from New York,—and of seeing at the opera that Clinton, whom he was afterwards to meet at Monmouth. But whilst I concealed my intentions, I openly avowed my sentiments; I often defended the Americans; I rejoiced at their success at Trenton; and my spirit of opposition obtained for me an invitation to breakfast with Lord Shelbourne. I refused the offers made me to visit the sea ports, the vessels fitting out against the rebels, and everything that might be construed into an abuse of confidence. At the end of three weeks, when it became necessary for me to return home, whilst refusing my uncle,~{11} the ambassador, to accompany him to court, I confided to him my strong desire to take a trip to Paris. He proposed saying that I was ill during my absence. I should not have made use of this stratagem myself, but I did not object to his doing so.

After having suffered dreadfully in the channel, and being reminded, as a consolation, how very short the voyage would be, I arrived at M. de Kalb's house in Paris, concealed myself three days at Chaillot, saw a few of my friends and some Americans, and set out for Bordeaux, where I was for some time unexpectedly delayed.~{12} I took advantage of that delay to send to Paris, from whence the intelligence I received was by no means encouraging; but as my messenger was followed on his road by one from the government, I lost not a moment in setting sail, and the orders of my sovereign were only able to overtake me at Passage, a Spanish port, at which we stopped on our way. The letters from my own family were extremely violent, and those from the government were peremptory. I was forbidden to proceed to the American continent under the penalty of disobedience; I was enjoined to repair instantly to Marseilles, and await there further orders. A sufficient number of commentaries were not wanting upon the consequences of such an anathema, the laws of the state, and the power and displeasure of the government: but the grief of his wife, who was pregnant, and the thoughts of his family and friends, had far more effect upon M. de Lafayette.~{13} As his vessel could no longer be stopped, he returned to Bordeaux to enter into a justification of his own conduct; and, in a declaration to M. de Fumel, he took upon himself all the consequences of his present evasion. As the court did not deign to relax in its determination, he wrote to M. de Maurepas that that silence was a tacit consent, and his own departure took place soon after that joking despatch. After having set out on the road to Marseilles, he retraced his steps, and, disguised as a courier, he had almost escaped all danger, when, at Saint Jean de Luz, a young girl recognised him; but a sign from him silenced her, and her adroit fidelity turned away all suspicion. It was thus that M. de Lafayette rejoined his ship, the 26th of April 1777; and on that same day, after six months anxiety and labour, he set sail for the American continent.~{14}

(1777.) As soon as M. de Lafayette had recovered from the effects of sea sickness, he studied the language and trade he was adopting. A heavy ship, two bad cannons, and some guns, could not have escaped from the smallest privateer. In his present situation, he resolved rather to blow up the vessel than to surrender; he concerted measures to achieve this end with a brave Dutchman named Bedaulx, whose sole alternative, if taken, would have been the gibbet. The captain insisted upon stopping at the islands; but government and orders would have been found there, and he followed a direct course, less from choice than from compulsion.~{15} At forty leagues from shore, they were met by a small vessel: the captain turned pale, but the crew were attached to M. de Lafatette, and the officers were numerous: they made a show of resistance. It turned out, fortunately, to be an American ship, whom they vainly endeavoured to keep up with; but scarcely had the former lost sight of M. de Lafayette's vessel, when it fell in with two English frigates,—and this is not the only time when the elements seemed bent on opposing M. de Lafayette, as if with the intention of saving him. After having encountered for seven weeks various perils and chances, he arrived at Georgetown, in Carolina. Ascending the river in a canoe, his foot touched at length the American soil, and he swore that he would conquer or perish in that cause. Landing at midnight at Major Huger's house,~{16} he found a vessel sailing for France, which appeared only waiting for his letters. Several of the officers landed, others remained on board, and all hastened to proceed to Charleston:

This beautiful city is worthy of its inhabitants and everything there announced not only comfort but even luxury. Without knowing much of M. de Lafayette, the generals Howe,~{17} Moultrie, and Gulden, received him with the utmost kindness and attention. The new works were shown him, and also that battery which Moultrie afterwards defended so extremely well, and which the English appear, we must acknowledge, to have seized the only possible means of destroying. Several adventurers, the refuse of the islands, endeavoured vainly to unite themselves to M. de Lafayette, and to infuse into his mind their own feelings and prejudices. Having procured horses, he set out with six officers for Philadelphia. His vessel had arrived, but it was no longer protected by fortune, and on its return home it was lost on the bar of Charlestown To repair to the congress of the United States, M. de Lafayette rode nearly nine hundred miles on horseback; before reaching the capital of Pennsylvania, he was obliged to travel through the two Carolinas, Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware. Whilst studying the language and customs of the inhabitants, he observed also new productions of nature, and new methods of cultivation: vast forests and immense rivers combine to give to that country an appearance of youth and majesty. After a fatiguing journey of one month, he beheld at length that Philadelphia, so well known in the present day, and whose future grandeur Penn appeared to designate when he laid the first stone of its foundation.

After having accomplished his noble manoeuvres at Trenton and Princetown, General Washington had remained in his camp at Middlebrook. The English, finding themselves frustrated in their first hopes, combined to make a decisive campaign. Burgoyne was already advancing with ten thousand men, preceded by his proclamations and his savages. Ticonderoga, a famous stand of arms, was abandoned by Saint-Clair; he drew upon himself much public odium by this deed, but he saved the only corps whom the militia could rally round. Whilst the generals were busied assembling the militia, the congress recalled them, sent Gates their place, and used all possible means to support him. At that same time the great English army, of about eighteen thousand men, had sailed from New York, and the two Howes were uniting their forces for a secret enterprise; Rhode Island was occupied by a hostile corps, and General Clinton who had remained at New York, was there preparing for an expedition. To be able to withstand many various blows, General Washington, leaving Putnam on the north river, crossed over the Delaware, and encamped, with eleven thousand men, within reach of Philadelphia.

It was under these circumstances that M. de Lafayette first arrived in America; but the moment, although important to the common cause, was peculiarly unfavourable to strangers. The Americans were displeased with the pretensions, and disgusted with the conduct, of many Frenchmen; the imprudent selections they had in some cases made, the extreme boldness of some foreign adventurers, the jealousy of the army, and strong national prejudices, all contributed to confound disinterested zeal with private ambition, and talents with quackery. Supported by the promises which had been given by Mr. Deane, a numerous band of foreigners besieged the congress; their chief was a clever but very imprudent man, and although a good officer, his excessive vanity amounted almost to madness. With M. de Lafayette, Mr. Deane had sent out a fresh detachment, and every day such crowds arrived, that the congress had finally adopted the plan of not listening to any stranger. The coldness with which M. de Lafayette was received, might have been taken as a dismissal; but, without appearing disconcerted by the manner in which the deputies addressed him,~{18} he entreated them to return to congress, and read the following note:—

"After the sacrifices I have made, I have the right to exact two favours: one is, to serve at my own expense,—the other is, to serve at first as volunteer."

This style, to which they were so little accustomed, awakened their attention; the despatches from the envoys were read over, and, in a very flattering resolution, the rank of major-general was granted to M. de Lafayette. Amongst the various officers who accompanied him, several were strangers to him; he was interested, however, for them all, and to those whose services were not accepted an indemnity for their trouble was granted. Some months afterwards, M.——- drowned himself in the Schuylkill, and the loss of that impetuous and imprudent man was perhaps a fortunate circumstance.

The two Howes having appeared before the capes of the Delaware, General Washington came to Philadelphia, and M. de Lafayette beheld for the first time that great man.~{19} Although he was surrounded by officers and citizens, it was impossible to mistake for a moment his majestic figure and deportment; nor was he less distinguished by the noble affability of his manner. M. de Lafayette accompanied him in his examination of the fortifications. Invited by the General to establish himself in his house, he looked upon it from that moment as his own: with this perfect ease and simplicity, was formed the tie that united two friends, whose confidence and attachment were to be cemented by the strongest interests of humanity.~{20}

The American army, stationed some miles from Philadelphia, was waiting until the movements the hostile army should be decided: the General himself reviewed the troops; M. de Lafayette arrived there the same day. About eleven thousand men, ill armed, and still worse clothed, presented a strange spectacle to the eye of the young Frenchman: their clothes were parti-coloured, and many of them were almost naked; the best clad wore hunting shirts, large grey linen coats which were much used in Carolina. As to their military tactics, it will be sufficient to say that, for a regiment ranged in order of battle to move forward on the right of its line, it was necessary for the left to make a continued counter march. They were always arranged in two lines, the smallest men in the first line; no other distinction as to height was ever observed. In spite of these disadvantages, the soldiers were fine, and the officers zealous; virtue stood in place of science, and each day added both to experience and discipline. Lord Stirling, more courageous than judicious, another general, who was often intoxicated, and Greene, whose talents were only then known to his immediate friends, commanded as majors-general. General Knox, who had changed the profession of bookseller to that of artillery officer, was there also, and had himself formed other officers, and created an artillery. "We must feel embarrassed," said General Washington, on his arrival, "to exhibit ourselves before an officer who has just quitted French troops." "It is to learn, and not to teach, that I come hither," replied M. de Lafayette; and that modest tone, which was not common in Europeans, produced a very good effect.

After having menaced the Delaware, the English fleet again disappeared, and during some days the Americans amused themselves by making jokes at its expense. These jokes, however, ceased when it reappeared in the Chesapeak; and, in order to approach it more closely during the disembarkation, the patriot army crossed through the town. Their heads covered with green branches, and marching to the sound of drums and fifes, these soldiers, in spite of their state of nudity, offered an agreeable spectacle to the eyes of all the citizens. General Washington was marching at their head, and M. de Lafayette was by his side. The army stationed itself upon the heights of Wilmington, and that of the enemy landed in the Elk river, at the bottom of Chesapeak bay. The very day they landed, General Washington exposed himself to danger in the most imprudent manner; after having reconnoitred for a long time the enemy's position, he was overtaken by a storm during a very dark night, entered a farm house close to the hostile army, and, from a reluctance to change his own opinion, remained there with General Greene, M. de Lafayette, and their aide-de-camp; but when at day break he quitted the farm, he acknowledged that any one traitor might have caused his ruin. Some days later, Sullivan's division joined the army, which augmented it in all to thirteen thousand men. This Major-General Sullivan made a good beginning, but a bad ending, in an intended surprise on Staten Island.

If, by making too extensive a plan of attack, the English committed a great error, it must also be acknowledged that the Americans were not irreproachable in their manner of defence. Burgoyne, leading his army, with their heads bent upon the ground, into woods from whence he could not extricate them, dragged on, upon a single road, his numerous cannons and rich military equipages. Certain of not being attacked from behind, the Americans could dispute every step they took: this kind of warfare attracted the militia, and Gates improved each day in strength. Every tree sheltered a skilful rifleman, and the resources offered by military tactics, and the talents even of their chiefs, had become useless to the English. The corps left in New York could, it is true, laugh at the corps of Putnam, but it was too feeble to succour Burgoyne; and instead of being able to secure his triumph, its own fate was even dependent upon his. During that time, Howe was only thinking of Philadelphia, and it was at the expense of the northern expedition that he was repairing thither by an enormous circuit. But, on the other side, why were the English permitted to land so tranquilly? Why was the moment allowed to pass when their army was divided by the river Elk? Why in the south were so many false movements and so much hesitation displayed? Because the Americans had hitherto had combats but not battles; because, instead of harassing an army and disputing hollows, they were obliged to protect an open city, and manoeuvre in a plain, close to a hostile army, who, by attacking them from behind, might completely ruin them. General Washington, had he followed the advice of the people, would have enclosed his army in a city, and thus have entrusted to one hazard the fate of America; but, whilst refusing to commit such an act of folly, he was obliged to make some sacrifice, and gratify the nation by a battle. Europe even expected it; and although he had been created a dictator for six months, the General thought he ought to submit everything to the orders of congress, and to the deliberations of a council of war.

After having advanced as far as Wilmington, the general had detached a thousand men under Maxwell, the most ancient brigadier in the army. At the first march of the English, he was beaten by their advance guard near Christiana Bridge. During that time the army took but an indifferent station at Newport; they then removed a little south, waited two days for the enemy, and, at the moment when these were marching upon their right wing, a nocturnal council of war decided that the army was to proceed to the Brandywine. The stream bearing that name covered its front; the ford called Chad's Ford, placed nearly in the centre, was defended by batteries. It was in that scarcely examined station that, in obedience to a letter from congress, the Americans awaited the battle. The evening of the 10th of September, Howe advanced in two columns, and, by a very fine movement, the left column (about 8000 men under Lord Cornwallis, with grenadiers and guards) directed themselves towards the fords of Birmingham, three miles on our right; the other column continued its road, and at about nine o'clock in the morning it appeared on the other side of the stream. The enemy was so near the skirts of the wood that it was impossible to judge of his force some time was lost in a mutual cannonading. General Washington walked along his two lines, and was received with acclamations which seemed to promise him success. The intelligence that was received of the movements of Cornwallis was both confused and contradictory; owing to the conformity of name betwixt two roads that were of equal length and parallel to each other, the best officers were mistaken in their reports. The only musket shots that had been fired were from Maxwell, who killed several of the enemy, but was driven back upon the left of the American army, across a ford by which he had before advanced. Three thousand militia had been added to the army, but they were placed in the rear to guard some still more distant militia, and took no part themselves in the action. Such was the situation of the troops when they learnt the march of Lord Cornwallis towards the scarcely known fords of Birmingham: they then detached three divisions, forming about five thousand men, under the generals Sullivan, Stirling, and Stephen. M. de Lafayette, as volunteer, had always accompanied the general. The left wing remaining in a state of tranquillity, and the right appearing fated to receive all the heavy blows, he obtained permission to join Sullivan. At his arrival, which seemed to inspirit the troops, he found that, the enemy having crossed the ford, the corps of Sullivan had scarcely had time to form itself on a line in front of a thinly-wooded forest. A few moments after, Lord Cornwallis formed in the finest order: advancing across the plain, his first line opened a brisk fire of musketry and artillery; the Americans returned the fire, and did much injury to the enemy; but their right and left wings having given way, the generals and several officers joined the central division, in which were M. de Lafayette and Stirling, and of which eight hundred men were commanded in a most brilliant manner by Conway, an Irishman, in the service of France. By separating that division from its two wings, and advancing through an open plain, in which they lost many men, the enemy united all their fire upon the centre: the confusion became extreme; and it was whilst M. de Lafayette was rallying the troops that a ball passed through his leg;—at that moment all those remaining on the field gave way. M. de Lafayette was indebted to Gimat, his aide-de-camp, for the happiness of getting upon his horse. General Washington arrived from a distance with fresh troops; M. de Lafayette was preparing to join him, when loss of blood obliged him to stop and have his wound bandaged; he was even very near being taken. Fugitives, cannon, and baggage now crowded without order into the road leading to Chester. The general employed the remaining daylight in checking the enemy: some regiments behaved extremely well but the disorder was complete. During that time the ford of Chad was forced, the cannon taken and the Chester road became the common retreat of the whole army. In the midst of that dreadful confusion, and during the darkness of the night, it was impossible to recover; but at Chester, twelve miles from the field of battle, they met with a bridge which it was necessary to cross; M. de Lafayette occupied himself in arresting the fugitives; some degree of order was re-established; the generals and the commander-in-chief arrived; and he had leisure to have his wound dressed.

It was thus, at twenty-six miles from Philadelphia, that the fate of that town was decided, (11th September, 1777.) The inhabitants had heard every cannon that was fired there; the two parties, assembled in two distinct bands in all the squares and public places, had awaited the event in silence. The last courier at length arrived, and the friends of Liberty were thrown into consternation. The Americans had lost from 1000 to 1200 men. Howe's army was composed of about 12,000 men; their losses had been so considerable that their surgeons and those in the country, were found insufficient, and they requested the American army to supply them with some for their prisoners. If the enemy had marched to Derby, the army would have been cut up and destroyed: they lost an all-important night; and this was perhaps their greatest fault, during a war in which they committed so many errors.

M. de Lafayette, having been conveyed by water to Philadelphia, was carefully attended to by the citizens, who were all interested in his situation and extreme youth. That same evening the congress determined to quit the city: a vast number of the inhabitants deserted their own hearths—whole families, abandoning their possessions, and uncertain of the future, took refuge in the mountains. M. de Lafayette was carried to Bristol in a boat; he there saw the fugitive congress, who only assembled again on the other side of the Susquehannah; he was himself conducted to Bethlehem, a Moravian establishment, where the mild religion of the brotherhood, the community of fortune, education, and interests, amongst that large and simple family, formed a striking contrast to scenes of blood, and the convulsions occasioned by a civil war.

After the Brandywine defeat, the two armies maneouvered along the banks of the Schuylkill. General Washington still remained on a height above the enemy, and completely out of his reach; nor had they again an opportunity of cutting him off. Waine, an American brigadier, was detached to observe the English; but, being surprised during the night, near the White-Horse, by General Grey, he lost there the greatest part of his corps. At length Howe crossed the Schuylkill at Swede's Ford, and Lord Cornwallis entered Philadelphia.

In spite of the declaration of independence of the New States, everything there bore the appearance of a civil war. The names of Whig and Tory distinguished the republicans and royalists; the English army was still called the regular troops; the British sovereign was always designated by the name of the king. Provinces, towns, and families were divided by the violence of party spirit: brothers, officers in the two opposing armies, meeting by chance in their father's house, have seized their arms to fight with each other. Whilst, in the rancour of their pride, the English committed horrible acts of licence and cruelty,—whilst discipline dragged in her train those venal Germans who knew only how to kill, burn, and pillage, in the same army were seen regiments of Americans, who, trampling under foot their brethren, assisted in enslaving their wasted country. Each canton contained a still greater number whose sole object was to injure the friends of liberty, and give information to those of despotism. To these inveterate Tories must be added the number of those whom fear, private interest, or religion, rendered adverse to war. If the Presbyterians, the children of Cromwell and Fairfax, detested royalty, the Lutherans, who had sprung from it, were divided among themselves: the Quakers hated slaughter, but served willingly as guides to the royal troops. Insurrections were by no means uncommon: near the enemy's stations, farmers often shot each other; robbers were even encouraged. The republican chiefs were exposed to great dangers when they travelled through the country; it was always necessary for them to declare that they should pass the night in one house, then take possession of another, barricade themselves in it, and only sleep with their arms by their side. In the midst of these troubles, M. de Lafayette was no longer considered as a stranger; never was any adoption more complete than his own: and whilst, in the councils of war, he trembled when he considered that his voice (at twenty years of age) might decide the fate of two worlds, he was also initiated in those deliberations in which, by reassuring the Whigs, intimidating the Tories, supporting an ideal money, and redoubling their firmness in the hour of adversity, the American chiefs conducted that revolution through so many obstacles.

Confined to his bed for six weeks, M. de Lafayette suffered from his wound, but still more severely from his inactivity. The good Moravian brothers loved him, and deplored his warlike folly. Whilst listening to their sermons, he planned setting Europe and Asia in a flame. As he was no longer able to do anything but write, he wrote to the commander of la Martinique, and proposed to him to make a descent upon the English islands under American colours. He wrote also to M. de Maurepas, and offered to conduct some Americans to the Isle of France, concerting previously with individuals an attack upon the English factories.~{21} From the particulars which have since become known, that project in India would have succeeded; but it was rejected at Versailles, where no answers were yet vouchsafed to M. de Lafayette's letters. Bouillé more ardent in temper, would have adopted the whole plan, but he could not act without permission; and these delays led to the period of the war which M. de Lafayette was so desirous of bringing on.

During his residence at Bethlehem, the English entrenched themselves at Philadelphia. The two rivers which encompassed the town were united by a chain of wooden palisades and good redoubts, partly covered by an inundation. A portion of their army was encamped at Germantown, five miles in advance of those lines; these were attacked, the 4th of October, by Washington, and although his left column was retarded by an absurd precedence of divisions, and misled by a thick fog,—although the advance guard of the right, under Conway, attacked in front what it ought to have attacked in flank, the enemy was not less taken by surprise and beaten, and the general, with his victorious wing, passed through the whole extent of the enemy's encampment. All things went on well until then; but a false movement of the left column, and still more the attack of a stone house which they should have turned, gave the enemy time to rally. Howe was thinking of a retreat, but Cornwallis arrived in haste with a reinforcement. The Americans repassed through the English encampment, and the action ended by a complete defeat. Many men were lost on both sides. General Agnew, an Englishman, and General Nash, an American, were killed. The Americans had some dragoons under Pulaski, the only one of the confederated Poles who had refused to accept a pardon. He was an intrepid knight, a libertine and devotee, and a better captain than general; he insisted on being a Pole on all occasions, and M. de Lafayette, after having contributed to his reception in the army, often exerted himself to effect a reconciliation betwixt him and the other officers. Without waiting for his wound to be closed, M. de Lafayette returned to head-quarters, twenty-five miles from Philadelphia. The enemy, who had fallen back upon their lines, attacked Fort Mifflin, upon an island, and Fort Red-Bank, on the left side of the Delaware. Some chevaux de frise, protected by the forts, and some galleys, stopped the fleet, magazines, and detachments which had been sent from the Chesapeak. Amongst the skirmishes which took place betwixt small parties of soldiers, the most remarkable one was the surprise of a corps of militia at Cevoked-Billet,~{22} in which the English burnt their wounded prisoners in a barn. Such was the situation of the south, when news was received of the capitulation of Burgoyne. That general, when he quitted Canada, had made a diversion on his right; but Saint Leger had failed in an operation against Fort Schuyler; and he himself, by advancing towards Albany, appeared to have lost much time. Gates was constantly adding numerous militia to his continental troops. All the citizens being armed militia, a signal of alarm assembled them, or an order of state summoned them to march. But if that crusade were rather a voluntary one, their residence at the camp was still more dependent on their own inclination: the discipline was suitable to the formation of the corps. The continentalists, on the contrary, belonged to the thirteen states, of which each one supplied some regiments; the soldiers were either engaged for the war or for three years, which improper alternative was occasioned by republican jealousy. These regular troops had military regulations, a severe discipline, and the officers of each state vied with each other for promotion. Gates, placed in an entrenched position, in the centre of woods, on the road to Albany, and with the North river on his right, had assembled sixteen thousand men; and this invasion of the enemy, by threatening New England, had served as an instant summons to the brave militia. They had already proved their strength at Bennington, where Stark had surrounded and destroyed a detachment belonging to Burgoyne. The enemy, having arrived within three miles of Gates, and not being able to make a circuit round him without abandoning their cannon and military accoutrements, attempted twice to force him; but they had scarcely commenced their march when Arnold fell upon them with his division, and in those woods, lined with sharpshooters, it was only possible for them to reach the entrenchments. Arnold had his leg broken at the second affair; Lincoln, the other major-general, was wounded also. Four thousand men, who embarked at New York, had, it is true, ascended the Hudson. Whilst Vaughan was needlessly burning Esopus, Clinton had taken all the forts that defended the river. They were but little annoyed by Putnam, who, in the first breaking out of the troubles, had thrown aside his plough to bear to the army far more zeal than talent. But still that diversion was too weak; and by a note which a spy who had been taken swallowed, but which was recovered by an emetic, it was seen that Clinton was aware of his own weakness. Burgoyne, abandoned by the savages, regretting his best soldiers, and Frazer, his best general, reduced to five thousand men, who were in want of provisions, wished to retreat; but it was then too late: his communications were no longer open; and it was at Saratoga, some miles in the rear of his army, that he signed the celebrated convention. A brilliant troop, covered with gold, filed out with Burgoyne: they encountered Gates and his officers, all clothed in plain grey cloth. After a frugal repast, the two generals beheld the conquered army filing out; and, as a member of parliament said, "five thousand men crossed the rebel country to take up their winter quarters near Boston." Clinton then redescended to New York, and the militia returned to their domestic hearths. Gates' chief merit consisted in his skilful choice of a position; Burgoyne's misfortune was owing to the nature of the country, which was impracticable and almost a desert. If the enemies of the former criticised the terms of the convention, M. de Lafayette loudly proclaimed how glorious he thought it; but he blamed Gates afterwards for rendering himself independent of his general, and for retaining the troops which he ought to have sent him. To obtain them, it was necessary to despatch Hamilton, a young man of great talents, whose counsels had justly acquired much credit.~{23}

The forts of the Delaware had not yet yielded: that of Red-Bank, defended by four hundred men, was attacked, sword in hand, by sixteen hundred Hessians. The work having been reduced by Mauduit, a young Frenchman, the enemy engaged betwixt the old and new entrenchments. They were driven back with the loss of seven hundred men and Count Donop, their chief, whose last words were—"I die the victim of my own ambition, and the avarice of my sovereign." That fort was commanded by an old and respected colonel, Greene, who, three years after, was massacred by the English to whom he had surrendered, whilst, covering him with his own body, an old negro perished heroically by his side. Fort Mifflin, although attacked by land and water, did not defend itself less valiantly; the Augusta, an English ship of the line, had been already blown up; a frigate also perished; and Colonel Smith did not even think of surrendering: but the island being attacked from an unknown passage, the works were assaulted from the rear, and were obliged to be evacuated. Lord Cornwallis and five thousand men having fallen upon the Jerseys, it became also necessary to quit Red-Bank which the Americans blew up before leaving it: General Greene, crossing the river at Trenton opposed, with a precisely equal force, the detachment of Cornwallis.

Although M. de Lafayette's wound was not yet sufficiently closed for him to put on a boot, he accompanied Greene to Mount Holly; and detaching himself in order to reconnoitre, he found the enemy, November 25th, at Gloucester, opposite Philadelphia. The booty they had collected was crossing the river. To assure himself more fully on this point M. de Lafayette advanced upon the strip of land called Sandy Point, and for this imprudence he would have paid dearly if those who had the power of killing him had not depended too much on those who had the power of taking him prisoner. After having succeeded in somewhat appeasing the terror of his guides, he found himself, about four o'clock, two miles from the English camp, before a post of four hundred Hessians with their cannon. Having only three hundred and fifty men, most of them militia, he suddenly attacked the enemy, who gave way before him. Lord Cornwallis came up with his grenadiers; but, supposing himself to be engaged with the corps of General Greene, he allowed himself to be driven back to the neighbourhood of Gloucester, with a loss of about sixty men. Greene arrived in the night, but would not attack the enemy. Lord Cornwallis passed over the river, and the American detachment rejoined the army at its station at Whitemarsh, twelve miles from Philadelphia. It had occupied, since the last month, some excellent heights; the general's accurate glance had discerned the situation of the encampment through an almost impenetrable wood.

The slight success of Gloucester gratified the army, and especially the militia. The congress resolved, that "it would be extremely agreeable to them to see the Marquis de Lafayette at the head of a division."~{24} He quitted, therefore, his situation of volunteer, and succeeded Stephen in the command of the Virginians. The junction of Cornwallis having been the work of some hours, and that of Greene requiring several marches, it is difficult to imagine why Howe gave him time to arrive, and only proceeded with his army on the 5th of December to Chesnut Hill, three miles from Whitemarsh. After having felt his way with the right wing, of which he stood in some awe, he threatened to attack the extreme left; and that wing, following his own movements, stationed itself on the declivity of the heights. Some shots were exchanged betwixt the English light horsemen and the American riflemen, very skilful carabineers, who inhabit the frontiers of the savage tribes. Not being able to attack that position, and not wishing to make the circuit of it, Howe returned, on the fourth day, to Philadelphia. In spite of the northern reinforcements, the Americans were reduced to nine thousand, and the advanced season diminished their numbers rapidly. The protection of the country had cost the army dear. The 15th of December they marched toward Swedes' Ford, where Lord Cornwallis was accidentally foraging on the other side of the river. M. de Lafayette, being upon duty, was examining a position, when his escort and the enemy fired upon each other. The uncertainty being mutual, Lord Cornwallis and General Washington suspended their march; the former having retired during the night, the army crossed over the Schuylkill, and entrenched itself in the station of Valley-Forge, twenty-two miles from Philadelphia. Having skillfully erected there, in a few days, a city of wooden huts the army established itself in its melancholy winter quarters. A small corps was detached to Wilmington, and fortified itself, under the command of Brigadier-General Smallwood.

Notwithstanding the success in the north, the situation of the Americans had never been more critical than at the present moment. A paper money, without out any certain foundation, and unmixed with any specie, was both counterfeited by the enemy and discredited by their partizans. They feared to establish taxes, and had still less the power of levying them. The people, who had risen against the taxation of England, were astonished at paying still heavier taxes now; and the government was without any power to enforce them. On the other side, New York and Philadelphia were overstocked with gold and various merchandizes; the threatened penalty of death could not stop a communication that was but too easy. To refuse the payment of taxes, to depreciate the paper currency, and feed the enemy, was a certain method of attaining wealth; privations and misery were only experienced by good citizens. Each proclamation of the English was supported by their seductions, their riches, and the intrigues of the Tories. Whilst a numerous garrison lived sumptuously at New York, some hundreds of men, ill-clothed and ill-fed, wandered upon the shores of the Hudson. The army of Philadelphia, freshly recruited from Europe, abundantly supplied with everything they could require, consisted of eighteen thousand men: that of Valley-Forge was successively reduced to five thousand men; and two marches on the fine Lancaster road, (on which road also was a chain of magazines,) by establishing the English in the rear of their right flank, would have rendered their position untenable; from which, however, they had no means of retiring. The unfortunate soldiers were in want of everything; they had no coats, hats, shirts, or shoes; their feet and legs froze till they became black, and it was often necessary to amputate them. From want of money, they could neither obtain provisions nor any means of transport; the colonels were often reduced to two rations, and sometimes even to one. The army frequently remained whole days without provisions, and the patient endurance of both soldiers and officers was a miracle which each moment served to renew. But the sight of their misery prevented new engagements; it was almost impossible to levy recruits; it was easy to desert into the interior of the country. The sacred liberty was not extinguished, it is true, and the majority of the citizens detested British tyranny; but the triumph of the north, and the tranquillity of the south, had lulled to sleep two-thirds of the continent. The remaining part was harassed by two armies; and, throughout this revolution, the great difficulty was, that, in order to conceal misfortunes from the enemy, it was necessary to conceal them from the nation also; that by awakening the one, information was likewise given to the other; and that fatal blows would have been struck upon the weakest points before democratic tardiness could have been roused to support them. It was from this cause that, during the whole war, the real force of the army was always kept a profound secret; even congress was not apprised of it, and the generals were often themselves deceived. General Washington never placed unlimited confidence in any person, except in M. de Lafayette; because for him alone, perhaps, confidence sprung from warm affection. As the situation grew more critical, discipline became more necessary. In the course of his nocturnal rounds, in the midst of heavy snows, de Lafayette was obliged to break some negligent officers. He adopted in every respect the American dress, habits, and food. He wished to be more simple, frugal, and austere than the Americans themselves. Brought up in the lap of luxury, he suddenly changed his whole manner of living, and his constitution bent itself to privation as well as to fatigue. He always took the liberty of freely writing his ideas to congress; or, in imitation of the prudence of the general, he gave his opinion to some members of a corps or state assembly, that, being adopted by them, it might be brought forward in the deliberations of congress.

In addition to the difficulties which lasted during the whole of the war, the winter of Valley-Forge recals others still more painful. At Yorktown, behind the Susquehannah, congress was divided into two factions, which, in spite of their distinction of south and east, did not the less occasion a separation between members of the same state. The deputies substituted their private intrigues for the wishes of the nation. Several impartial men had retired; several states had but one representative, and in some cases not even one. Party spirit was so strong, that three years afterwards congress still felt the effects of it. Any great event, however, would awaken their patriotism; and when Burgoyne declared that his treaty had been broken, means were found to stop the departure of his troops, which everything, even the few provisions for the transports, had foolishly betrayed. But all these divisions failed to produce the greatest of calamities—the loss of the only man capable of conducting the revolution.

Gates was at Yorktown, where he inspired respect by his manners, promises, and European acquirements. Amongst the deputies who united themselves to him, may be numbered the Lees, Virginians, enemies of Washington, and the two Adams. Mifflin, quarter-master-general, aided him with his talents and brilliant eloquence. They required a name to bring forward in the plot, and they selected Conway, who fancied himself the chief of a party. To praise Gates, with a certain portion of the continent and the troops, was a pretext for speaking of themselves. The people attach themselves to prosperous generals, and the commander-in-chief had been unsuccessful. His own character inspired respect and affection; but Greene, Hamilton, Knox, his best friends, were sadly defamed. The Tories fomented these dissensions. The presidency of the war-office, which had been created for Gates, restricted the power of the general. This was not the only inconvenience; a committee from congress arrived at the camp, and the attack of Philadelphia was daringly proposed. The most shrewd people did not believe that Gates was the real object of this intrigue. Though a good officer he had not the power to assert himself. He would have given place to the famous General Lee, then a prisoner of the English, whose first care would have been to have made over to them his friends and all America.

Attached to the general, and still more so to the cause, M. de Lafayette did not hesitate for a moment; and, in spite of the caresses of one party, he remained faithful to the other, whose ruin seemed then impending. He saw and corresponded frequently with the general, and often discused with him his own private situation, and the effect that various meliorations in the army might produce. Having sent for his wife to the camp, the general preserved in his deportment the noble composure which belongs to a strong and virtuous mind. "I have not sought for this place," said he to M. de Lafayette; "if I am displeasing to the nation I will retire; but until then I will oppose all intrigues."

(1778.) The 22nd of January, congress resolved that Canada should be entered, and the choice fell upon M. de Lafayette. The Generals Conway and Stark were placed under him. Hoping to intoxicate and govern so young a commander, the war-office, without consulting the commander-in-chief, wrote to him to go and await his further instructions at Albany.~{25} But after having won over by his arguments the committee which congress had sent to the camp, M. de Lafayette hastened to Yorktown, and declared there "that he required circumstantial orders, a statement of the means to be employed, the certainty of not deceiving the Canadians, an augmentation of generals, and rank for several Frenchmen, fully impressed," he added, "with the various duties and advantages they derived from their name; but the first condition he demanded was, not to be made, like Gates, independent of General Washington." At Gates' own house he braved the whole party, and threw them into confusion by making them drink the health of their general.~{26} In congress he was supported by President Laurens, and he obtained all that he demanded. His instructions from the war-office promised that 2500 men should be assembled at Albany, and a large corps of militia at Coos; that he should have two millions in paper money, some hard specie, and, all means supplied for crossing lake Champlain upon the ice, whence, after having burnt the English flotilla, he was to proceed to Montreal, and act there as circumstances might require.

Repassing then, not without some danger, the Susquehannah, which was filled with floating masses of ice, M. de Lafayette set out for Albany, and, in spite of the obstacles offered by ice and snow, rapidly traversed an extent of four hundred miles. Whilst travelling thus on horseback, he became thoroughly acquainted with the simplicity and purity of the inhabitants, their patriarchal mode of life, and their republican ideas. Devoted to their household cares, the women are happy, and afford to their husbands the calmest and truest felicity. The unmarried women alone is love spoken of, and their modesty enhances the charm of their innocent coquetry. In the chance marriages which take place in Paris, the fidelity of the wife is often repugnant to the voice of nature and of reason, one might almost say to the principles of justice. In America, a girl marries her lover, and it would be like having two lovers at the same time if she were to break that valid agreement; because both parties know equally how and in what manner they are bound to each other. In the bosom of their own families, the men occupy themselves with their private affairs, or assemble together to regulate those of the state. They talk politics over their glasses, and become animated by patriotism rather than strong liquor. Whilst the children shed tears at the name of Tory, the old men sent up prayers to Heaven that they might be permitted to see the end of that war. During his repeated and rapid journeys, M. de Lafayette, mixing with all classes of society, was not wholly useless to the good cause, to the interest of the French, and to the party of General Washington.

M. de Lafayette, on arriving at Albany, experienced some disappointments. Instead of 2500 men, there were not 1200. Stark's militia had not even received a summons. Clothes, provisions, magazines, sledges, all were insufficient for that glacial expedition. By making better preparations and appointing the general earlier, success would probably have been secured. Several Canadians began to make a movement, and from that moment they testified great interest in M. de Lafayette; but two months were requisite to collect all that was necessary, and towards the middle of March the lakes begin to thaw. M. de Lafayette, general, at twenty years of age, of a small army, charged with an important and very difficult operation, authorized by the orders of congress, animated by the expectations now felt in America, and which, he knew, would ere long be felt likewise in Europe, had many motives for becoming adventurous; but, on the other hand, his resources were slender, the time allowed him was short, the enemy was in a good position, and Lieutenant-General Carleton was preparing for him another Saratoga. Forced to take a decisive step immediately, he wrote a calm letter to congress, and with a heavy sigh abandoned the enterprise. At the same period, congress, becoming a little less confident, despatched to him some wavering counsels, which, arriving too late, only served to compromise the general and justify the government. But the prudence of M. de Lafayette was at length rewarded by the approbation of congress and of the nation; and, until the opening of the campaign, he continued to command that department.~{27} He found there that intrepid Arnold, who was still detained by his wound, and who since ...... ; he became intimately acquainted with Schuyler, the predecessor of Gates, in disgrace as well as Saint-Clair, but who continued useful to the cause from the superiority of his talents, his importance in that part of the country, and the confidence he enjoyed in New York, of which state he was a citizen.

If Canada did not herself send an offensive army, all the savages were paid and protected by the English party: the Hurons and Iroquois committed their devastations on that whole frontier. Some baubles or a barrel of rum were sufficient to make them seize the tomahawk; they then rushed upon villages, burnt houses, destroyed harvests, massacred all, without regard to age or sex, and received on their return the price of each bloody scalp they could exhibit. A young American girl, whom her lover, an English, was expecting, that their marriage might take place, was killed by the very savages he had sent to escort her. Two Americans were actually eaten up by the Senecas, and a colonel of the English army was a guest at that horrible repast. "It is thus," was often said to the savages, whilst drinking with them at the councils, "it is thus we must drink the blood of rebels." M. de Lafayette, conscious that he could not protect such an immense extent of frontier, prepared quarters in every direction, and announced the speedy arrival of troops in all the counties; and this stratagem stopped the depredations of the savages, who do not usually attack those places in which they expect to find much resistance. But he kept the Albany troops close together, satisfied them a little as to payment, provisioned the forts, which had been hitherto neglected, and arrested a plot of which any particulars have never been precisely known. He found in George Clinton, governor of the state of New York, a firm and an enlightened co-operator.

Soon after, Schuyler and Duane, who were charged with the management of the affairs of the savages, appointed a general assembly at Johnson's Town, upon the Mohawk river. Recalling to them their former attachment to the French, M. de Lafayette repaired thither in a sledge to shew himself in person to those nations whom the English had endeavoured to prejudice against him. Five hundred men, women, and children, covered with various coloured paints and feathers, with their ears cut open, their noses ornamented with rings, and their half-naked bodies marked with different figures, were present at the councils. Their old men, whilst smoking, talked politics extremely well. Their object seemed to be to promote a balance of power; if the intoxication of rum, as that of ambition in Europe, had not often turned them aside from it. M. de Lafayette, adopted by them, received the name of Kayewla, which belonged formerly to one of their warriors; and under this name he is well known to all the savage tribes. Some louis which he distributed under the form of medals, and some stuffs from the state of New York, produced but little effect when compared to the presents they had received from England. A treaty was entered into, which some of them rigidly observed; and the course of the evil was at least arrested for the present. The Oneidas and Tuscaroras, the only real friends the Americans possessed, requested to have a fort; and M. de Lafayette left them M. de Gouvion, a French officer, whose talents and virtues rendered him of great value to the cause. Whenever savages were required at the army, whenever there was any dealings with these tribes, recourse was always had to the credit of M. de Lafayette, whose necklaces and words were equally respected.

On his return, he found that the form of a new oath had been established, which each civil and military officer was to take, according to his own religious belief. An acknowledgment of the independence, liberty, and sovereignty of the United States; an eternal renunciation of George III., his successors, and heirs, and every King of England; a promise to defend the said states against the said George III.; this was the purport of the oath administered by him to the whole northern department.~{28} At the approach of spring, M. de Lafayette was recalled to the south. The affairs of General Washington were already in a more flourishing condition. Several of the states recommended him to their deputies; and from only suspecting one of them of being unfavourable to him, the New York assembly wished to recal one of their delegates. Congress had been a little recruited, and they were thinking of recruiting the army. At Valley-Forge, M. de Lafayette found some difficulty not from the substance, but merely from the form of the oath; but that difficulty was easily obviated. A short time after, Simeon Deane arrived with the treaty of commerce between France and the United States.

By quitting France in so public a manner, M. de Lafayette had served the cause of the revolution. One portion of society was anxious for his success and the attention of the other had become, to say the least, somewhat occupied in the struggle. If a spirit of emulation made those connected with the court desirous of war, the rest of the nation supported the young rebel, and followed with interest all his movements; and it is well known that the rupture that ensued was truly a national one. Some circumstances relating to his departure having displeased the court of London, M. de Lafayette omitted nothing that could draw more closely together the nations whose union he so ardently desired. The incredible prejudices of the Americans had been, augmented by the conduct of the first Frenchmen who had joined them. These men gradually disappeared, and all those who remained were remarkable for talents, or at least for probity. They became the friends of M. de Lafayette, who sincerely sought out all the national prejudices of the Americans against his countrymen for the purpose of overcoming them. Love and respect for the name of Frenchman animated his letters and speeches, and he wished the affection that was granted to him individually to become completely national. On the other side, when writing to Europe, he denied the reports made by discontented adventurers, by good officers who were piqued at not having been employed, and by those men who, serving themselves in the army, wished to be witty or amusing by the political contrasts they described in their letters. But, without giving a circumstantial account of what private influence achieved, it is certain that enthusiasm for the cause, and esteem for its defenders, had electrified all France, and that the affair of Saratoga decided the ministerial commotion. Bills of conciliation passed in the English house of parliament, and five commissioners were sent to offer far more than have been demanded until then. No longer waiting to see how things would turn out, M. de Maurepas yielded to the public wish, and what his luminous mind had projected, the more unchanging disposition of M. de Vergennes put in execution. A treaty was generously entered into with Franklin, Deane, and Arthur Lee, and that treaty was announced with more confidence than had been for some time displayed. But the war was not sufficiently foreseen, or at least sufficient preparations were not made. The most singular fact is, that at the very period when the firm resistance of the court of France had guided the conduct of two courts, America had fallen herself into such a state of weakness, that she was on the very brink of ruin. The 2nd of May, the army made a bonfire, and M. de Lafayette, ornamented with a white scarf, proceeded to the spot, accompanied by all the French. Since the arrival of the conciliatory bills, he had never ceased writing against the commission, and against every commissioner. The advances of these men were ill-received by congress; and, foreseeing a French co-operation, the enemy began to think of quitting Philadelphia.

General Washington sent two thousand chosen men across the Schuylkill to collect intelligence. M. de Lafayette, their commander, repaired, the 18th of May, to Barren Hill, eleven miles from the two armies. On a good elevation, his right resting upon some rocks and the river, on his left some excellent stone houses and a small wood, his front sustained by five pieces of cannon, and with roads in his rear, such was the position of M. de Lafayette. An hundred dragoons whom he was expecting did not arrive in sufficient time; but he stationed six hundred militia on his left at Whitemarsh, and their general, Porter, made himself answerable for those roads. On the evening of the 19th, Howe, who had just been recalled, and Clinton, who replaced him, sent out a detachment of seven thousand men, with fourteen pieces of cannon, under General Grant. Passing behind the inundation, that corps proceeded on the road to Francfort, and, by a circuitous movement, fell into that of Whitemarsh, from which the militia had just thought proper to retire. On the morning of the 20th, M. de Lafayette was conversing with a young lady, who, on pretence of seeing her relations, to oblige him had consented to go to Philadelphia, when he was informed that the red dragoons were at Whitemarsh. It was the uniform of those he was expecting; he had placed Porter there; he had promised to pay him a visit, and intended that very evening to carry thither his detachment. But, for greater security, he examined carefully into the truth of the report; and, ascertaining that a column was marching on the left, he changed his front, and covered it with the houses, the wood, and a small churchyard. Scarcely was that movement ended, when he found himself cut off by Grant on the Swedes' Ford road in his rear. It was in the presence of the troops that he first heard the cry that he was surrounded, and he was forced to smile at the unpleasant intelligence. Several officers, whom he had despatched to Valley-Forge, declared that they had been unable to find a passage. Every moment was precious, and M. de Lafayette proceeded on the road of Matson Ford, to which the enemy was nearer than himself. General Poor commanded his advance guard; and to him he sent Gimat, his own confidential aide-de-camp. He placed himself as the rear guard, and marched on with rapidity, but without precipitation. Grant had possession of the heights, and M. de Lafayette's road lay immediately beneath them. His apparent composure deceived his adversary; and perceiving that he was reconnoitring him, he presented to him, from among the trees and behind curtains, false heads of columns. The time that Grant occupied in reconnoitring, and discovering an imaginary ambuscade, M. de Lafayette employed in regaining the foreground; at length he passed by Grant's column. He managed to impose likewise on Grey's column, which followed him; and when the third division, under Howe and Clinton, reached Barren Hill, the Americans had already passed over Matson Ford. Forming themselves on the opposite shore, they awaited the enemy, who dared not attack them. Advancing on the ground, Howe was astonished at finding only one red line: the generals quarrelled; and although the commander in chief had invited some ladies to sup with M. de Lafayette, although the admiral, (Howe's brother,) knowing him to be surrounded, had prepared a frigate for him, the whole army, (of which half had made a march of forty miles,) returned, much fatigued, without having taken a single man. It was then that fifty savages, friends of the Americans, encountered fifty English dragoons; and the cries of war on one side, and the appearance of the cavalry on the other, surprised the parties so much that they both fled, with equal speed. The alarm had been likewise great at Valley Forge; and the report of three pieces of cannon that were there fired appeared an additional mystery to Grant. The aim of the general being attained, the detachment returned to its quarters, and M. de Lafayette was well received by the general and army.~{29}

An exchange of prisoners had long been talked of, and the cruelty of the English rendered this measure more necessary. Cooped up in a vessel at New York, and breathing a most noxious atmosphere, the American prisoners suffered all that gross insolence could add to famine, dirt, disease, and complete neglect. Their food was, to say the least, unwholesome. The officers, often confounded with their soldiers, appealed to former capitulations and to the right of nations; but they were only answered by fresh outrages. When one victim sunk beneath such treatment, "Tis well," was said to the survivors; "there is one rebel less." Acts of retaliation had been but rarely practised by the Americans; and the English, like other tyrants, mistook their mildness and generosity for timidity. Five hundred Americans, in a half-dying state, had been carried to the sea-shore, where the greatest number of them soon expired, and the general very properly refused to reckon them in exchange for his own prisoners of war. Another obstacle to the cartel was the capture of Lee, who had been taken prisoner in 1776; the congress insisted on his liberation, and, after much debating on both sides, he was at length exchanged for General Prescot. Lee, who had been formerly a colonel in the English service, a general in Poland, and a fellow-soldier of the Russians and Portuguese, was well acquainted with all countries, all services, and several languages. His features were plain, his turn of mind caustic, his feelings ambitious and avaricious, his temper uncomplying, and his whole appearance singular and unprepossessing. A temporary fit of generosity had induced him to quit the English service, and the Americans, at that period, listened to him as to an oracle. In his heart he detested the general, and felt a sincere affection for himself alone; but, in 1776, his advice had undoubtedly saved both the general and the army. He made many advances to M. de Lafayette, but the one was a violent Englishman, and the other an enthusiastic Frenchman, and their intimacy was often interrupted by their differences of opinion. Gates, whose great projects had been frustrated, was at that time commanding a corps at White Plains, upon the left side of the Hudson, opposite to the island of New York. Conway had retired from service, and the place of inspector, which had been created for him, was given to Steuben, an old Prussian, with moderate talents, but methodical habits, who organized the army and perfected their tactics. The congress received at that time some conciliatory epistles, and the sentiments their answers breathed, like all the other deliberations of that assembly, were nobly felt, and nobly expressed. Lord Carlisle was president of the commission, and Lord Howe, Sir Henry Clinton, Mr. Eden, and Governor Johnstone were its members. The last named person wrote to some friends, who published his letters.

On the 17th of June, Philadelphia was evacuated. The invalids, magazines, and heavy ammunition of the British were embarked with the general; the commissioners of conciliation alone remained behind. Passing over to Gloucester, the army marched in two columns, each consisting of seven thousand men, commanded by Clinton and Knyphausen, towards New York. The army of the United States, which was of nearly equal force, directed itself from Valley Forge to Coryell's Ferry, and from thence to King's Town, within a march of the enemy; it was thus left at the option of the Americans, either to follow on their track, or to repair to White Plains. In a council held on this subject, Lee very eloquently endeavoured to prove that it was necessary to erect a bridge of gold for the enemy; that while on the very point of forming an alliance with them, every thing ought not to be placed at hazard; that the English army had never been so excellent and so well disciplined; he declared himself to be for White Plains: his speech influenced the opinion of Lord Stirling and of the brigadiers-general. M. de Lafayette, placed on the other side, spoke late, and asserted that it would be disgraceful for the chiefs, and humiliating for the troops, to allow the enemy to traverse the Jerseys tranquilly; that, without running, any improper risk, the rear guard might be attacked; that it was necessary to follow the English, manoeuvre with prudence, take advantage of a temporary separation, and, in short, seize the most favourable opportunities and situations. This advice was approved by many of the council, and above all by M. du Portail, chief of the engineers, and a very distinguished officer. The majority were, however, in favour of Lee; but M. de Lafayette spoke again to the general on this subject in the evening, and was seconded by Hamilton, and by Greene, who had been lately named quarter-master in place of Mifflin. Several of the general officers changed their opinion; and the troops having already begun their march, they were halted, in order to form a detachment. When united, there were 3,000 continentalists and 1,200 militia; the command fell to the share of Lee, but, by the express desire of the general, M. de Lafayette succeeded in obtaining it. Everything was going on extremely well, when Lee changed his mind, and chose to command the troops himself; having again yielded this point, he re-changed once more; and as the general wished him to adhere to his first decision—"It is my fortune and honour," said Lee, to M. de Lafayette, "that I place in your hands; you are too generous to cause the loss of both!" This tone succeeded better, and M. de Lafayette promised to ask for him the next day. The enemy, unfortunately, continued their march; M. de Lafayette was delayed by want of provisions; and it was not until the 26th, at a quarter to twelve at night, that he could ask for Lee, who was sent with a detachment of one thousand men to Englishtown, on the left side of the enemy. The first corps had advanced upon the right; and M. de Lafayette, by Lee's especial order, joined him at midday, within reach of the enemy from whom he fortunately succeeded in concealing this movement. The two columns of the English army had united together at Monmouth Court-house, from whence they departed on the morning of the 28th. Whilst following them, the Americans marched rapidly through the woods of Freehold; and at eight o'clock the enemy's rear-guard was still in the vicinity of the court-house. If Lee had continued the direction he was then taking, he would have placed himself in an excellent position, especially as the American army was advancing on the road to Freehold; but the head of his cohort quitted the wood, into which it was again forced to retreat by the enemy's cannon. Lee then addressing himself to M. de Lafayette, told him to cross the plain, and attack the left flank of the enemy; and whilst this manoeuvre, which exposed them to the fire of the English artillery, was executing, he sent him an order to fall back into the village in which he had placed the rest of the troops. From thence he drew back still farther, and, changing his attack to a retreat, he exposed himself to be driven back by Lord Cornwallis, and subsequently by the whole English army, to whom good space of time had been allowed to form themselves in proper order.

At the first retrograde movement, M. de Lafayette sent information to the general of what was passing, who, arriving speedily on the spot, found the troops retreating in confusion. "You know," said Lee, "that all this was against my advice." The general, sending Lee to the rear,~{30} himself formed seven or eight hundred men, and stationed them, with some cannon, upon a chosen spot, and M. de Lafayette undertook to retard the enemy's march. The English dragoons made their first charge upon a small morass which sheltered him: the infantry marched round to attack him on the other side, but he had sufficient time to retire; and the army had by this time placed itself upon a height, where he took the command of the second line. A cannonade was kept up on both sides during the whole day, and two attacks of the enemy were repulsed. A battery, placed on their left, obliged them to change their position, and, when they presented their flank, the general attacked them and forced them to retreat, until darkness interrupted all operations. The American troops continued to gain ground, and Clinton retired during the night, leaving behind him more than three hundred dead and many wounded. The heat was so intense that the soldiers fell dead without having received a single wound, and the fire of battle soon became untenable. During this affair which ended so well, although begun so ill, General Washington appeared to arrest fortune by his glance, and his presence of mind, valour, and decision of character, were never displayed to greater advantage than at that moment.~{31} Wayne distinguished himself; Greene and the brave Stirling led forward the first line in the ablest manner. From four o'clock in the morning until night M. de Lafayette was momentarily obliged to change his occupations. The general and he passed the night lying on the same mantle, talking over the conduct of Lee, who wrote the next morning a very improper letter, and was placed under arrest. He was afterwards suspended by a council of war, quitted the service, and was not regretted by the army. Clinton having retreated towards the hollows of Shrewsbury, the general contented himself with the success already gained, and marched towards White Plains; the second line, under M. de Lafayette forming the right column. The 4th of July, being the anniversary of the declaration of independence, was celebrated at Brunswick; and a few days later the army learnt that the Count d'Estaing was before New York.~{32}

Twelve French vessels, which sailed from Toulon, had been three months in reaching the Delaware: they arrived three days after the departure of the English fleet, and, following it to New York, M. d'Estaing anchored at Sandy-hook, outside the bar. He offered immense sums to be conveyed across that bar, but the pilots declared that the large vessels drew too much water, and the French finally agreed to attack Rhode Island, which the enemy then occupied with a force of 5000 men, who had entrenched themselves; whilst the state militia, under the command of Sullivan, were stationed at Providence. M. Girard, a French minister, arrived on board that squadron; he had been long most anxiously expected by the Americans, and M. de Lafayette called his delay a proof of confidence. The last mark of attention with which the court honoured M. de Lafayette, had been an order to arrest him in the West Indies; he was, in truth, out of favour in that quarter, and their displeasure had increased on receiving his letters, which were dictated less by the prudence of a philosopher than by the enthusiasm of a young lover of liberty: but although no letters were addressed to him, M. d'Estaing was not less kind and attentive in his conduct; and 2000 continentalists having been despatched from White-Plains to Providence, M. de Lafayette, who had exerted himself to hasten their departure, conducted them rapidly along the sound, across a smiling country, covered with villages, in which the evident equality of the population distinctly proved the democracy of the government. From the apparent prosperity of each colony, it was easy to judge of the degree of freedom which its constitution might enjoy.

By forcing the passage between Rhode Island and Connecticut, M. d'Estaing might easily have carried off as prisoners 1500 Hessians who were stationed on the latter island; but he yielded to Sullivan's entreaties, and waited until that general should be in readiness: but although the troops of M. de Lafayette had traversed 240 miles, he found on his arrival that no preparations were yet made. He repaired to the squadron, and was received with the greatest possible attention, especially by the general; and, as M. de Suffren was placed in front, he carried back to him an order from M. d'Estaing to attack three frigates, which, however, were burnt by their own crews. The American army repaired, on the 8th of August, to Howland's Ferry, during the time that the squadron was forcing its way between the two islands. General Greene having joined the army, M. de Lafayette yielded to him the command of half his corps; each then possessed a wing, of 1000 continentalists and 5000 militia. M. de Lafayette's corps was to receive the addition of the two battalions of Foix and Hainaut, with some marines. The English, fearing to be intercepted evacuated the forts on the right of the island during the night of the 8th, and Sullivan landed with his troops the next day. M. de Lafayette was expecting the French that afternoon, and the boats were already under way, when a squadron appeared in sight on the south of the island, at M. d'Estaing's former anchorage. Lord Howe, brave even to audacity, having watched the movements of the French admiral and his fleet, collected a greater number of ships, of which the sizes were however too unequal; his position, and the southern wind, would enable him, he thought, to throw succours into Newport where General Pigot had concentrated his force; but the wind changed during the night, and the next day M. d'Estaing, within sight of both armies passed gallantly through the fire of the two batteries whilst the enemy, cutting their cables, fled, under heavy press of sail. After a chase of eight hours the two squadrons at length met, and Lord Howe would have paid dearly for his temerity, had not a violent storm arisen, which dispersed the ships. By a singular chance, several of Byron's vessels came up at the same time on their return from Portsmouth, having been separated at the Azores by a violent gale of wind. The Languedoc, the admiral's ship, deprived of its masts and rudder, and driven by the tempest to a distance from the other vessels, was attacked by the Isis, of fifty guns, and owed its safety only to the courage and firmness of M. d'Estaing. At length he succeeded in rallying his squadron, and, faithful to his engagements, reappeared before Rhode Island; but as he no longer possessed the superiority of force, he announced his intention of repairing to Boston, where the Cesar had taken shelter after a combat. When the storm, which lasted three days, subsided, the American army drew near Newport. This town was defended by two lines of redoubts and batteries, surrounded by a wooden palisade, the two concentrated fronts of which rested on the sea-shore, and were supported by a ravine that it was necessary to cross. The trench was opened, the heavy batteries established, and General Greene and M. de Lafayette were deputed to go on board the French admiral ship, to endeavour to obtain time, and propose either to make an immediate attack, or to station vessels in the Providence river. If M. de Lafayette had felt consternation upon hearing of the dispersion of the fleet, the conduct of the sailors during the combat, which he learnt with tears in his eyes, inspired him with the deepest grief. In the council, where the question was agitated, M. de Brugnon (although five minutes before he had maintained the contrary) gave his voice in favour of Boston, and his opinion was unanimously adopted. Before they separated, the admiral offered his two battalions to M. de Lafayette, and appeared to feel great pleasure in being thus enabled to secure him his rank in the French army; but these troops were useful on board, and were not necessary on the island, and M. de Lafayette would not expose them to danger for his own private interest. At the departure of the vessels, there was but one unanimous feeling of regret and indignation. Their lost time, extinguished hopes, and embarrassed situation, all served to increase the irritation of the militia, and their discontent became contagious. The people of Boston already spoke of refusing the fleet admission into their port; the generals drew up a protestation, which M. de Lafayette refused to sign. Carried away by an impulse of passion, Sullivan inserted in an order "that our allies have abandoned us." His ill humour was encouraged by Hancock, a member of congress, formerly its president, and who then commanded the militia of Massachusets stationed on the island. To him M. de Lafayette first declared his intentions, and then, calling upon Sullivan, he insisted upon the words used in the order of the morning being retracted in that of the evening. Some hours after, the general returned his visit, and, drawing him aside, a very warm altercation took place; but although totally indifferent to the peril of a duel, Sullivan was neither indifferent to the loss of the intimacy of M. de Lafayette, nor to the influence this young Frenchman possessed at head-quarters, and over congress and the nation; and in the numerous letters which M. de Lafayette wrote on this occasion, he made ample use of his influence over those three important powers.

Dr. Cooper, a presbyterian minister, was extremely useful at Boston; and Hancock himself ended by repairing thither to receive the squadron. Rather than yield to the public torrent, M. de Lafayette had risked his own popularity; and in the fear of being guided by private interest, he had gone to the extreme in the opposite line of conduct. He lived in complete retirement, in his own military quarter, and was never seen but at the trench or the council, in which latter place he would not allow the slightest observation to be made against the French squadron. As hopes were still entertained of obtaining assistance from the latter, it was resolved to retreat to the north of the island; and M. de Lafayette was sent on an embassy to M. d'Estaing. After having travelled all night, he arrived at the moment when the general and his officers were entering Boston. A grand repast, given by the town, was followed by a conference between the council, the admiral, and himself, at which M. d'Estaing, while he clearly demonstrated the insufficiency of his naval force, offered to march himself with his troops. Every word was submitted to M. de Lafayette, and the admiral remarked this deference without appearing hurt by it. That same day, the 29th August, Sullivan retreated from his post; and although the discontent which the militia experienced had diminished the number of his troops, he conducted this movement, and the attack which it occasioned, with great ability.

The next morning, at the same time that M. de Lafayette was informed of the event, he learnt also that the two armies were in close contact at the north of the island, and that Clinton had arrived with a reinforcement. Traversing then eighty miles in less than eight hours, he repaired to Howland's Ferry, arriving there just as the army was re-crossing it. A corps of a thousand men had been left on the island, surrounded with divisions of the enemy: M. de Lafayette undertook the charge of them, and succeeded in withdrawing them without losing a single man. When congress returned thanks to him for his conduct during this retreat, they likewise expressed their gratitude for his journey to Boston, at the very period when he might so rationally have expected an engagement.~{33} Sullivan returned to Providence, and left M. de Lafayette in the command of the posts around the island: the post of Bristol, in which his principal corps was placed, was exposed to an attack by water; he announced this to General Washington, to whom, Sullivan said, he thought the same idea had also occurred. It was at this place he learnt the affair of Ouessant, which he expected to celebrate as an important victory; but the welfare of the squadron recalled him to Boston, where he felt he could be useful to his countrymen. The general dissatisfaction was soon appeased; and although M. de Saint Sauveur had been killed accidentally in a tumult, the French had nevertheless full cause to acknowledge the kindness and moderation of the Bostonians. During a walk which he took with the Count d'Estaing, M. de Lafayette pointed out to him the remains of the army of Burgoyne: two soldiers of militia, stationed at each wing, alone constituted its guard. Feeling that his presence was no longer necessary to the squadron, and believing that it was his duty to return to France, M. de Lafayette set out to rejoin the principal corps of the army at Philadelphia.

During that time, the commissioners had made many addresses and proclamations. By endeavouring to gain over one member, Johnstone had displeased the congress, who refused to treat with him. In a public letter, signed Carlisle, the French nation was taxed with a perfidy too universally acknowledged to require any new proof. With the effervescence of youth and patriotism, M. de Lafayette seized this opportunity of opposing the commission; and the first impulse of M. d'Estaing was to approve of his conduct. A haughty challenge was sent from head-quarters to Lord Carlisle: the answer was an ill-explained refusal; and the impetuosity of M. de Lafayette was attended with a good result, whilst the prudence of the president was ridiculed in every public paper.~{34}

Soon afterwards, during M. de Lafayette's residence at Philadelphia, the commission received its death-blow; whilst he was breakfasting with the members of congress, the different measures proper to be pursued were frankly and cheerfully discussed. The correspondence which took place at that time is generally known; the congress remained ever noble; firm, and faithful to its allies: secretary Thomson, in his last letter to Sir Henry Clinton, informs him, that "the congress does not answer impertinent letters." To conceal nothing from the people, all the proposals were invariably printed; but able writers were employed in pointing out the errors they contained. In that happy country, where each man understood and attended to public affairs, the newspapers became powerful instruments to aid the revolution. The same spirit was also breathed from the pulpit, for the Bible in many places favours republicanism. M. de Lafayette, having once reproached an Anglican minister with speaking only of heaven, went to hear him preach the following Sunday, and the words, the execrable house of Hanover, proved the docility of the minister.

M. de Lafayette addressed a polite letter to the French minister, and wrote also to the congress, that, "whilst he believed himself free, he had supported the cause under the American banner; that his country was now at war, and that his services were first due to her; that he hoped to return; and that he should always retain his zealous interest for the United States." The congress not only granted him an unlimited leave of absence, but added to it the most flattering expressions of gratitude. It was resolved that a sword, covered with emblems, should be presented to him, in the name of the United States, by their minister in France; they wrote to the king; and the Alliance, of thirty-six guns, their finest ship, was chosen to carry him back to Europe. M. de Lafayette would neither receive from them anything farther, nor allow them to ask any favour for him at the court of France. But the congress, when proposing a co-operation in Canada, expressed its wish of seeing the arrangement of the affair confided to him: this project was afterwards deferred from the general's not entertaining hopes Of its ultimate success. But although old prejudices were much softened,—although the conduct of the admiral and the squadron had excited universal approbation,—the congress, the general, and, in short, every one, told M. de Lafayette that, in the whole circuit of the thirteen states, vessels only were required, and that the appearance of a French corps would alarm the nation. As M. de Lafayette was obliged to embark at Boston, he set out again on this journey of four hundred miles; he hoped, also, that he should be able to take leave of M. d'Estaing, who had offered to accompany him to the islands; and whose friendship and misfortunes affected him as deeply as his active genius and patriotic courage excited his admiration. Heated by fatiguing journeys and over exertion, and still more by the grief he had experienced at Rhode Island; and having afterwards laboured hard, drank freely, and passed several sleepless nights at Philadelphia, M. de Lafayette proceeded on horseback, in a high state of fever, and during a pelting autumnal rain. Fetes were given in compliment to him throughout his journey, and he endeavoured to strengthen himself with wine, tea, and rum: but at Fishkill, eight miles from head-quarters, he was obliged to yield to the violence of an inflammatory fever. He was soon reduced to the last extremity, and the report of his approaching death distressed the army, by whom he was called the soldier's friend, and the whole nation were unanimous in expressing their good wishes and regrets for the marquis, the name by which he was exclusively designated. From the first moment, Cockran, director of the hospitals, left all his other occupations to attend to him alone. General Washington came every day to inquire after his friend; but, fearing to agitate him, he only conversed with the physician, and returned home with tearful eyes, and a heart oppressed with grief.~{35} Suffering acutely from a raging fever and violent head-ache, M. de Lafayette felt convinced that he was dying, but did not lose for a moment the clearness of his understanding: having taken measures to be apprised of the approach of death, he regretted that he could not hope again to see his country and the dearest objects of his affection. Far from foreseeing the happy fate that awaited him, he would willingly have exchanged his future chance of life, in spite of his one and twenty years, for the certainty of living but for three months, on the condition of again seeing his friends, and witnessing the happy termination of the American war. But to the assistance of medical art, and the assiduous care of Dr. Cockran, nature added the alarming though salutary remedy of an hemorrhage. At the expiration of three months, M. de Lafayette's life was no longer in danger: he was at length allowed to see the general, and think of public affairs. By decyphering a letter from M. d'Estaing, he learnt that, in spite of twenty-one English vessels, the squadron had set out for la Martinique. After having spent some days together, and spoken of their past labours, present situations, and future projects, General Washington and he took a tender and painful leave of each other. At the same time that the enemies of this great man have accused him of insensibility, they have acknowledged his tenderness for M. de Lafayette; and how is it possible that he should not have been warmly cherished by his disciple, he who, uniting all that is good to all that is great, is even more sublime from his virtues than from his talents? Had he been a common soldier, he would have been the bravest in the ranks; had he been an obscure citizen, all his neighbours would have respected him. With a heart and mind equally correctly formed, he judged both of himself and circumstances with strict impartiality. Nature, whilst creating him expressly for that revolution, conferred an honour upon herself; and, to show her work to the greatest possible advantage, she constituted it in such a peculiar manner, that each distinct quality would have failed in producing the end required, had it not been sustained by all the others.

In spite of his extreme debility, M. de Lafayette, accompanied by his physician, repaired, on horseback, to Boston, where Madeira wine effectually restored his health. The crew of the Alliance was not complete, and the council offered to institute a press, but M. de Lafayette would not consent to this method of obtaining sailors, and it was at length resolved to make up the required number by embarking some English deserters, together with some volunteers from among the prisoners. After he had written to Canada, and sent some necklaces to a few of the savage tribes, Brice and Nevil, his aides-de-camp, bore his farewell addresses to the congress, the general, and his friends. The inhabitants of Boston, who had given him so many proofs of their kindness and attention, renewed their marks of affection at his departure; and the Alliance sailed on the 11th of January. A winter voyage is always boisterous in that latitude; but on approaching the banks of Newfoundland, the frigate experienced a violent storm: her main-top mast torn away, injured by a heavy sea, filling with water, during one long dark night she was in imminent danger; but a still greater peril awaited her, two hundred leagues from the coast of France. His British Majesty, encouraging, the mutiny of crews, had issued a somewhat immoral proclamation, promising them the value of every rebel vessel that they should bring into an English port; which exploit could only be performed by the massacre of the officers and those who opposed the mutiny. This proclamation gave rise to a plot which was formed by the English deserters and volunteers, who had most imprudently been admitted, in great numbers, on board the ship: not one American or Frenchman (for some French sailors had been found at Boston, after the departure of the squadron) took part in this conspiracy. The cry of Sail! was to be raised, and when the passengers and officers came on deck, four cannon, loaded with canister shot, prepared by the gunner's mate, were to blow them into atoms. An English serjeant had also contrived to get possession of some loaded arms. The hour first named was four in the morning, but was changed to four in the afternoon. During that interim, the conspirators, deceived by the accent of an American who had lived a long time in Ireland, and traded on its coast, disclosed the plot to him, and offered him the command of the frigate: the worthy man pretended to accept it, and was only able to inform the captain and M. de Lafayette of the conspiracy one hour before the time fixed for its execution. They rushed, sword in hand, upon deck, followed by the other passengers and officers, called upon their own sailors to assist them, and, seized thirty-one of the culprits, whom they placed in irons. Many others were accused in the depositions, but it was judged expedient to appear to rely upon the rest of the crew, although real confidence was only placed in the French and Americans. Eight days afterwards, the Alliance entered safely the port of Brest, February, 1779.

When I saw the port of Brest receive and salute the banner which floated on my frigate, I recalled to mind the state of my country and of America, and my peculiar situation when I quitted France. The conspirators were merely exchanged as English prisoners, and I only thought of rejoining my family and friends, of whom I had received no intelligence during the last eight months. When I repaired to a court which had hitherto only granted me lettres de cachet, M. de Poix made me acquainted with all the ministers. I was interrogated, complimented, and exiled, but to the good city of Paris; and the residence of the Hotel de Noailles was selected, instead of according me the horrors of the Bastille, which had been at first proposed. Some days afterwards, I wrote to the king to acknowledge an error of which the termination had been so fortunate: he permitted me to receive a gentle reprimand in person; and, when my liberty was restored to me, I was advised to avoid those places in which the public might consecrate my disobedience by its approbation. On my arrival, I had the honour of being consulted by all the ministers, and, what was far better, embraced by all the ladies. Those embraces lasted but one day; but I retained for a greater length of time the confidence of the cabinet, and I enjoyed both favour at the court of Versailles, and popularity at Paris. I was the theme of conversation in every circle, even after the queen's kind exertions had obtained for me the regiment of the king's dragoons. Times are widely changed; but I have retained all that I most valued—popular favour and the affection of those I love.

Amidst the various tumultuous scenes that occupied my mind, I did not forget our revolution, of which the ultimate success still appeared uncertain. Accustomed to see great interests supported by slender means, I often said to myself that the expense of one fête would have organized the army of the United States; and to clothe that army I would willingly, according to the expression of M. de Maurepas, have unfurnished the palace of Versailles. In the meantime, the principal object of the quarrel, American independence, and the advantage our government and reputation would derive from seizing the first favourable opportunity, did not appear to me sufficiently promoted by those immense preparations for trifling conquests, and those projects conceived in the expectation of peace; for no person seriously believed in war, not even when it was declared, after the hundredth injury had induced Spain to enter into those co-operations which finally terminated in nothing more than noisy exercises.

Endnotes:

1. Note by M. de Lafayette upon the Memoirs written by himself and his American correspondence.—Many papers relating to the first years of my public life have been destroyed during the reign of terror. An imperfect copy of these memoirs has been saved: this ought to have been re-written; I have preferred copying it precisely as it was originally composed.

Several letters written from America had been copied by my wife for Dr. Dubrucil, (physician to the king and to la Charité, at St. Germain-en-laza, deceased 1785,) whose friendship was the pride of one portion of my life, and who has filled the remainder of it with a deep and tender recollection. Those papers have been preserved; it would be necessary to suppress some repetitions and insignificant details, but I have left them almost all untouched, because, whilst forming this collection, I felt pleasure in recalling the sentiments that had animated me at various periods of my existence.

The Duke d'Ayen, my father-in-law, was not one of the least hasty and severe censurers of my departure for America but he restored to me his favour with all the kindness and sincerity which characterized him: his affectionate congratulations deeply touched my heart. The same feeling induces me at the present moment to repeat some details contained in the letters I addressed to him.

2. Michel-Louis-Christophe-Roch-Gilbert de Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, colonel of the grenadiers of France, Chevalier de St. Louis, killed at the battle of Minden before the age of twenty-five.

3. The college du Plessis.

4. Marie-Louise-Julie de la Rivière, died at Paris the 12th of April, 1770, some days before her father Joseph-Yves-Thibauld-Hyacinthe, Marquis de la Rivière.

5. Previous to the marriage of M. de Lafayette, we have only one letter written by him at fourteen years of age, the 8th of February, 1772, which will be read perhaps with some curiosity. It is addressed to his cousin, Mademoiselle de Chavaniac.

"I have just received, my dear cousin, your letter, and the good account you give me of my grandmother's health. After that, which was what first touched my heart, I was much interested by the account of the hunt of the proprietor of the forests of Lata. I should like very much to know whether those dogs that neither walk nor bark contributed to the success of the expedition? The details of that hunt would have amused me very much; if I had been speaking to you of a new-fashioned cap, I should have thought it my duty to have described to you its figure and proportions, with a compass in my hand.

"Our cousin's marriage is broken off; there is another one on the carpet, but they are obliged to lower their tone exceedingly. Mademoiselle de Roucherolles, a place with Madame de Bourbon, of a thousand crowns a-year, and five thousand small livres a-year—that is the whole amount. You see that this is a very short abridgment of the other intended matches. My uncle, who came to see me the other day, consents to the marriage, on condition that the Prince de Condé will promise one of his regiments of cavalry to the cousin. Madame de Montboissier thinks this is asking too much, and told M. le Marquis de Canillic that, in truth, if he were so difficult, her husband would no longer take any part in his affairs; this offended him and some high words passed on both sides. The nephew does not care much about the marriage. He said, there were in his own province far better matches, which he named, that would not be refused him.

"I thought I had written you word that the Cardinal de Le Roche-Aimon was abbé de St. Germain. It is said that M. de Briges has the barony de Mercoeur. M. de la Vauguyon has died, little regretted either by the court or by the town. The ball of last Thursday is put off to the 15th, that is to say, for week hence. I dined, the day before yesterday, Thursday, with M. de la Tour d'Auvergne, who is on a complimentary footing with M. de Turenne, now Duke de Bouillon. He told us he should lose perhaps a million from politeness. You will recognise him by that phrase.

"Adieu, dear cousin; my respects, if you please, to all the family; M. de Fayon presents his to you, and I remain your obedient servant,

"LAFAYETTE."

6. A place in the household of a prince of royal blood. The Marshal de Noailles wished for this arrangement. To prevent it without openly opposing the will of those he loved, M. de Lafayette took an opportunity of displeasing, by a few words, the prince, to whose person they were desirous of attaching him, and all negotiations on the subject were thus broken off. We do not believe that since that period a reconciliation has ever taken place between him and Louis XVIII.

7. In 1828, Mr. Jared Sparks, a distinguished American author, intending to form a collection of the writings of Washington, which he is at present publishing at Boston, made a voyage to France to converse with M. de Lafayette, and consult the archives of foreign affairs. He obtained from the general many anecdotes, letters, and documents, of which extracts have enriched his publication. At the close of vol. v., he has placed an appendix, containing the account of the departure of M. de Lafayette from France, and his arrival in America. We doubt not but that the details of that narration were related, nay, perhaps even written, by the general himself. We shall therefore quote some extracts from it without hesitation, which, placed as notes, will completely elucidate the text of these memoirs.

"In the summer of 1776," says Mr. Sparks, "M. de Lafayette was stationed on military duty at Metz, being then an officer in the French army. It happened at this time that the Duke of Gloucester, brother to the King of England, was at Metz, and a dinner was given to him by the commandant of that place. Several officers were invited, and among others Lafayette. Despatches had just been received by the duke from England, and he made their contents the topic of conversation; they related to American affairs, the recent declaration of independence, the resistance of the colonists, and the strong measures adopted by the ministry to crush the rebellion.

"The details were new to Lafayette; he listened with eagerness to the conversation, and prolonged it by asking questions of the duke. His curiosity was deeply excited by what he heard, and the idea of a people fighting for liberty had a strong influence upon his imagination; the cause seemed to him just and noble, from the representations of the duke himself; and before he left the table, the thought came into his head that he would go to America, and offer his services to a people who were struggling for freedom and independence. From that hour he could think of nothing but this chivalrous enterprise. He resolved to return to Paris and make further inquiries.

"When he arrived in that city, he confided his scheme to two young friends, Count Segur and Viscount de Noailles, and proposed that they should join him. They entered with enthusiasm into his views; but as they were dependent on their families, it was necessary to consult their parents, who reprobated the plan and refused their consent. The young men faithfully kept Lafayette's secret: his situation was more fortunate, as his property was at his own disposal, and he possessed an annual revenue of nearly two hundred thousand livres.

"He next explained his intentions to the Count de Broglie who told him that his project was so chimerical, and fraught with so many hazards, without a prospect of the least advantage, that he could not for a moment regard it with favor, nor encourage him with any advice which should prevent him from abandoning it immediately. When Lafayette found him thus determined, he requested that at least he would not betray him for he was resolved to go to America. The Count de Broglie assured him that his confidence was not misplaced; 'But,' said he, 'I have seen your uncle die in the wars of Italy; I witnessed your father's death at the battle of Minden; and I will not be accessary to the ruin of the only remaining branch of the family: He then used all his powers of argument and persuasion to divert Lafayette from his purpose, but in vain. Finding his determination unalterable, the Count de Broglie said, as he could render him no aid, he would introduce him to the Baron de Kalb, who he knew was seeking an opportunity to go to America, and whose experience and counsels might be valuable.—(The Writings of George Washington, vol. v. Appendix, No. 1, p. 445.)

8. M. du Boismartin was the person sent to Bourdeaux to secure the purchase and equipment of the ship that M. de Lafayette intended for the United States.—(Sparks, loc. cit.)

9. It is a singular coincidence that, at the same time that General Washington, who had never left America, reduced to corps of two thousand men, did not despair of the common cause, the same sentiment was animating, two thousand leagues from thence, the breast of a youth of nineteen, who was destined to become one day his intimate friend, partake with him the vicissitudes and happy termination of that revolution, and afterwards carry back to another hemisphere the principles of liberty and equality which formed its basis.

10. With the Prince de Poix. This journey lasted three weeks.

11. The Marquis de Noailles, brother to the Duke d'Aven, and uncle to Madame de Lafayette.

12. M. de Lafayette learnt, at Bordeaux, that his intended departure was known at Versailles, and that the order to prevent it had been already issued. After having taken his ship to the common port of the Passage, he returned himself to Bordeaux, and wrote to the ministers, to his family and friends. Amongst the latter was M. de Coigny, to whom he sent a confidential person, and who bade him entertain no hopes of obtaining the permission he wished for. Pretending to repair to Marseilles, where he had received an order to join his father-in-law, who was going into Italy, he set off in a postchaise with an officer named Mauroy, who was desirous of going to America. Some leagues from Bordeaux he got on horseback, disguised as a courier, and rode on before the carriage, which took the road to Bayonne. They remained two or three hours in that town, and whilst Mauroy was arranging some necessary affairs, M. de Lafayette remained lying on some straw in the stable. It was the postmaster's daughter who recognised the pretended courier Saint Jean de Luz, from having seen him when returning from the Passage harbour to Bordeaux. (Sparks, loc. cit.)

13. These memoirs, written until now in the first person, change here to the third person, in spite of the kind of engagement taken in the first page to continue them in the former manner. We are ignorant of the cause of the inconsistency thus offered by the manuscript, which is, however, completely written in the general's own hand.

14. See, at the end of these memoirs, amongst the various fragments, fragment A.

15. The court of France despatched orders to the Leeward and Windward Islands to stop him on his road, because the ship, not being able to take out papers for North America, was to have stopped in the Spanish islands. (Manuscript No. 1.) Mr. Sparks relates that M. de Lafayette declared to the captain that the ship belonged to him, and that if he offered the slightest resistance, he would take from him the command and give it to the mate. But as he soon discovered that the real motive of the captain's resistance was a cargo belonging to him of 8000 dollars, M. de Lafayette secured to him its full value upon his own private fortune, and thus succeeded in overcoming all his scruples. (Washington's writings, loc. cit.)

16. When they landed, says Mr. Sparks, a distant light served to guide them. As they approached the house from whence it issued, the dogs barked, and the people took them for a band of marauders landing from an enemy's ship. They were asked who they were, and what they wanted. Baron Kalb replied and all suspicions vanished. The next morning the weather was beautiful. The novelty of all that surrounded him,—the room, the bed covered with mosquito nets, the black servant who came to ask his commands, the beauty and foreign aspect of the country which he beheld from his windows, and which was covered by a rich vegetation,—all united to produce on M. de Lafayette a magical effect, and excite in him a variety of inexpressible sensations. (Sparks, appendix.)

17. An American, who must not be confounded with the two brothers of that name who commanded the one the English army, the other the English fleet.

18. When he arrived at Philadelphia, M. de Lafayette delivered his letters to Mr. Lovell, president of the committee for foreign affairs. The next day he proceeded to congress: Mr. Lovell came out of the meeting, and told him there was but little hope of his request being acceded to. Suspecting that his letters had not been read, M. de Lafayette wrote the note which will be found in the text. The resolution of the congress concerning him, deliberated the 31st of July, is expressed in the following manner: "Seeing that the Marquis de Lafayette, on account of his great zeal in the cause of liberty in which the United States are engaged, has quitted his family and country, and has come to offer his services to the United States, without demanding either pay or private indemnity, and that he desires to expose his life in our cause,—resolved, that his services be accepted, and that, on account of his zeal, illustrious family and connexions, he shall have the rank and commission of major-general in the army of the United States." The real intention of this resolution was to give a rank to M. de Lafayette, and to leave to General Washington the right and care of confiding to him a command in unison with that rank. (Letters of Washington, 2nd part. V, p. 10, 35, and 128, and appendix No. I.)

19. He was presented, for the first time, to Washington, says Mr. Sparks, at a dinner, at which several members of congress were present. When they were separating, Washington drew Lafayette aside, expressed much kindness for him, complimented him upon his zeal and his sacrifices, and invited him to consider the headquarters as his own house, adding, with a smile that he could not promise him the luxuries of a court, but that as he was become an American soldier, he would doubtless submit cheerfully to the customs and privations of a republican army. The next day Washington visited the forts of the Delaware, and invited Lafayette to accompany him. (Sparks, ibid.)

20. See fragment B.

21. From Bethlehem he wrote to M. de Boullé, governor of the Windward Islands, to propose to him to attack the English islands under American colours. That general approved of the project, and forwarded it to the court, who would not, however, accept it. At the same period, M. de Lafayette, although in disgrace himself at court, wrote to the Count de Maurepas, to propose to him a still more important enterprise against the English factories, but also under American colours. The old minister, from prudential motives, did not adopt this project, but he spoke publicly in praise of it, and expressed, ever after, a great partiality for Lafayette. "He will end, one day," said he, smiling, "by unfurnishing the palace of Versailles to serve the American cause; for when he has taken anything into his head, it is impossible to resist him."—(Note by M. de Lafayette.)

22. This name is very illegible in the manuscript.

23. The celebrated Alexander Hamilton, one of the authors of the Federalist.

24. Journal of Congress, 1st December, 1777.

25. See fragment C, at the end of the Memoirs.

26. After having thus declared himself, he wrote to congress that "he could only accept the command on condition of remaining subordinate to General Washington, of being but considered as an officer detached from him, and of addressing all his letters to him, of which those received by congress would be but duplicates." These requests, and all the others he made, were granted. (Manuscript No. 2.)

27. He had the discretion to renounce an expedition which, undertaken without proper means, would have produced fatal effects upon the whole northern part of the United States. At Georgetown, the present residence of congress, some anxiety was experienced, because they feared that M. de Lafayette had trusted himself upon the lakes in the season of the year when the ice begins to melt. The counter orders that were sent him would have arrived too late; and when it became known that he had himself renounced the expedition, he received the thanks of congress and of the minister of war, General Gates, who, in spite of the line of conduct Lafayette had pursued during his quarrel with General Washington, had always expressed great respect and esteem for him. (Manuscript No. 1.)

28. It is singular that the oath of renunciation to Great Britain and her king, which every one employed in the continental service was obliged to take at that time, should have been administered in one half of the United States by a Frenchman of twenty years of age. (Manuscript No. 2.)

29. See, after these Memoirs, fragment D.

30. The two battalions formed to arrest the enemy's march were placed by General Washington himself. When, after having expressed his own feelings of dissatisfaction, he wished to give himself time to form his army on the heights behind the passage, he left there Major-General Lafayette, Brigadier-General Knox, commanding the artillery, and some officers of his staff. The colonels were good officers, and the battalions conducted themselves perfectly well. When the army was ranged in order of battle, General Greene commanded the right of the first line, Lord Stirling the left, and Lafayette the second line. (Manuscript No. 2.)

31. General Washington was never greater in battle than this action. His presence stopped the retreat; his arrangements secured the victory. His graceful bearing on horseback, his calm and dignified deportment, which still retained some trace of the displeasure he had experienced in the morning, were all calculated to excite the highest degree of enthusiasm. (Manuscript No. 2.)

32. See, after these Memoirs, the fragment E.

33. See fragment F.

34. The following was written by M. de Lafayette twenty years after the presumed date of the memoirs:—"Lord Carlisle refused,—and he was right. The challenge, however, excited some jokes against the commission and its president, which, whether well or ill founded, are always disadvantageous to those who become their objects."—(Manuscript No. 1.) "Lord Carlisle was right: but the challenge appearing the result of chivalric patriotism, party spirit took advantage of the circumstance, and the feeling which had inspired this irregular step was generally approved."—(Manuscript No. 2.)

35. General Washington—who, when Lafayette was wounded at Brandywine, said to the surgeon, "Take care of him as if he were my son, for I love him the same"—expressed for him, during this illness, the most tender and paternal anxiety.—(Manuscript No. 1.)

FRAGMENTS EXTRACTED FROM VARIOUS MANUSCRIPTS.~{1}

Endnote:

1. We have already mentioned these manuscripts. The one we term Manuscript No. 1, consists of a rapid sketch of the American life of General Lafayette; the other one, or Manuscript 2, is entitled, Observations on some portion of the American History, by a Friend of General Lafayette. Both appear to have been written about the period of the empire. Fragment A is drawn from the Manuscript No. 2.

A. — DEPARTURE FOR AMERICA IN 1777.

The histories of the American war and revolution are, generally speaking, very favourable to M. de Lafayette; the life of Washington, by Mr. Marshall, is especially so. There is one phrase, however, (page 410 of the third volume of the London edition,) which requires some explanation. "He left France ostensibly in opposition to his sovereign." This circumstance is treated in a more lucid and exact manner in the following works:—The History, etc., by William Gordon, D.D., vol. ii., pages 499 and 500. London, 1788.—The History of the American Revolution, by Dr. Ramsay, vol. ii., page 11. Philadelphia, 1789.

The importance of this step was increased by a peculiar circumstance. The preparations for the purchase and equipment of the vessel had delayed Lafayette's departure until the period which had been long previously fixed upon for an excursion of some weeks into England; this enabled him to conceal his departure; the American commissioners were well pleased to take advantage of this accident. Lafayette refused the proposals which were made him in London to visit the ports, or to do anything which could be construed into an abuse of confidence. He did not conceal his partiality for the American insurgents; but he endeavoured to profit by the parade with which, from political motives, the king and his ministry received at that period all persons coming from the court of France, and the attention which was paid them. The Marquis de Noailles, the ambassador, was his uncle. Lafayette felt no scruple in compromising the diplomatic character of this representation of the King of France, so that the maximum of the favourable effect that his departure could produce was obtained in England.

The same result took place in France. It would be difficult at this period to imagine into what a state of political and military insignificance the nation and government had been reduced during the war of seven years, and, above all, after the partition of Poland. The French ministry had personally, at that period, the reputation of great circumspection; the few indirect relations it permitted itself to hold with the agents of the insurgent colonies were only managed through the medium of unacknowledged agents, and were discovered the moment the ambassador pretended to become acquainted with them, or that the Americans could have drawn any advantage from them. Amongst the departures on which the ministers were kind enough to close their eyes, there were only four engineers for whom this toleration was in truth a secret mission.~{1} One word from Lord Stormont was sufficient to procure the detention, discharge, and sometimes imprisonment of the Americans admitted into our ports: their liberty or property was only restored to them surreptitiously, and as if escaping from the vigilance of a superior.

Amidst this labyrinth of precautions, feebleness, and denials, the effect may be conceived that was produced at Versailles by the bold step taken by a youth of distinguished birth and fortune, allied to one of the first families of the court, by whom the King of England and his ministers would fancy themselves braved and even laughed at, and whose departure would leave no doubt as to the connivance of the ambassador and government of France. The displeasure of the rulers was roused to the highest pitch: a portion of Lafayette's family shared in this displeasure. He had secretly traversed France. Having met near Paris with Carmichael, secretary of the American agents, he had urged the immediate departure of his vessel from Bordeaux, preferring to complete the necessary arrangements at the Spanish port of Passage. He returned himself to Bordeaux, in the hope of obtaining a consent which he considered would be useful to his cause. The return of his courier having informed him that they would not condescend to give an answer to such an indiscreet request, he hastened to quit France himself in the disguise of a courier, and lost no time in setting sail.

The government, to appease as far as possible, the English ambassador, despatched two light vessels to the Leeward and Windward Islands to stop Lafayette. At that period, the French navigators did not risk steering straight towards the American continent; they first repaired to the West Indies, and, taking out papers for France, they ranged as close as possible to the American coast, and endeavoured to seize a favourable moment or pretext to steal into a harbour. Lafayette's vessel had followed the common course of all expeditions; but its youthful owner, who had several officers with him, and had won the affection of the crew, obliged the captain to take a straightforward direction. A lucky gale of wind drove off the frigates that had been cruising on the preceding day before Georgetown, and he sailed into that port, having been protected by fate against the various obstacles which had been opposed to his enterprise.

But whilst the French government thus seconded the views of the English government, the departure of young Lafayette produced, in Paris, in the commercial towns, in all societies, and even at court, a sensation that was very favourable to the American cause. The enthusiasm it excited was in a great measure owing to the state of political stagnation into which the country had so long been plunged, the resentment excited by the arrogance of England, her commissioner at Dunkirk, her naval pretensions, and the love inherent in all mankind of bold and extraordinary deeds, especially when they are in defiance of the powerful, and to protect the weak in their struggle for liberty. To these peculiar circumstances may be imputed the increased interest and attention, the strong national feeling, and the constantly augmenting force of public opinion to which the French government at length yielded, when, in its treaties with the United States, it formed engagements with them, and commenced a war with England, which were both equally opposed to its real character and inclination.

Endnote:

1: MM. de de Gouvion, Duportail, Laradiére, and Laumoy.

B. — FIRST INTERVIEW BETWEEN GENERAL WASHINGTON AND GENERAL LAFAYETTE.

The appearance of the two brothers Howe before the capes of the Delaware had given rise to the supposition that it was upon that side they intended to land. General Washington repaired with his army towards the neighbourhood of Philadelphia. That army had been recruiting during the winter. Washington went to Philadelphia to attend a public dinner given in honour of him. It was then Lafayette was introduced to him. This young foreigner had travelled by land over the southern states, and had made a direct application to the congress, requesting to serve at first as volunteer, and to serve at his own expense. The members were much struck with two requests differing so widely from those of several other officers, and of one in particular, an officer of artillery, who had made great pretensions on his arrival, and had soon afterwards drowned himself in the Schuylkill. The rank of major-general (the highest in the American army) was given to Lafayette. Washington received the young volunteer in the most friendly manner, and invited him to reside in his house as a member of his military family, which offer Lafayette accepted with the same frankness with which it was made.

He remained there until he was appointed to the command of a division. The court of France had required that the American envoys should write to America to prevent Lafayette from being employed in their army. They did not hasten to despatch that letter, and, when its contents became known, the popularity of Lafayette was so great that it could not produce any effect. It is thus evident, that from the first moment of his embracing the American cause every obstacle was thrown in his way; all of which, however, he encountered and surmounted. (Manuscript No. 1.)

C. — ON THE MILITARY COMMANDS DURING THE WINTER OF 1778, AND THE FRENCH IN THE SERVICE OF THE UNITED STATES.

Amongst the various means employed to deprive the general-in-chief of his friends, attempts were made to awaken the ambition of Lafayette, who already enjoyed much popularity in the army and in the country, and who besides appeared to the enemies of Washington, from his relations with Europe, one of the men whom it was most important to draw into their party. They fancied they should gain him over by offering him the government of the north, which Gates had just quitted, and by the hope of an expedition into Canada. General Washington received a packet from the minister of war, enclosing a commission for Lafayette as an independent commander-in-chief, with an order to repair to the congress to receive instructions. The general placed it in his hands, without allowing himself any observation on the subject. Lafayette immediately declared to three commissioners of congress, who happened to be at that moment in the camp, "that he would never accept any command independent of the general, and that the title of his aide-de-camp appeared to him preferable to any other that could be offered him." When General Washington received the order of congress, he only said to his young friend, whilst placing the letter in his hand, "I prefer its being for you rather than for any other person."

The military commands, during the winter of 1777-1778, were distributed in the following manner:—General Washington assembled in some huts at Valley-Forge what was termed the principal army, reduced at that time to four or five thousand half-clothed men. General Mac-Dougal had the direction of a station at Peekskill. Lafayette commanded what was called the northern army, that is to say, a handful of men; his head-quarters were at Albany. The enemy made a few incursions, but of slight importance; and by the exercise of great vigilance, and a judicious choice of stations, the winter passed away tranquilly. Lafayette had under his orders two general officers, who had been engaged in the service of France, namely, General Kalb, a German by birth, who came over in the same vessel with himself; and General Conway, an Irishman, who had been a major in a regiment of that nation, also in the service of France. Besides the four engineers who have been before named, and these two officers, we must also mention, amongst the foreigners employed in the service of the United States, Pulaski, a Polish nobleman, who had taken a conspicuous part in the confederation of his own country, and who, after the success of the Russians, had arrived in America with letters of introduction to the congress, General Washington, and General Lafayette; Kosciuszko, his countryman, who was a colonel of engineers in America, and who afterwards acted such a grand and noble part during the last revolutions in Poland; Ternant, by birth a Frenchman, who has served the United States, Holland, and France with great ability; La Colombe, aide-de-camp to Lafayette, who has been subsequently so usefully employed in the French revolution; the Marquis de la Royerie, whom disappointed love brought to the United States, and who has since taken part in the counter-revolution; Gimat, aide-de-camp to Lafayette, who has since had the command in the French islands; Fleury, who distinguished himself in the defence of Fort Mifflin, and in the attack of the fort of West-Point, and who afterwards died a field-marshal in France; Mauduit-Duplessis, an extremely brave officer of artillery, who has since taken part against the French revolution, and was massacred at Saint Domingo; Touzard, an officer of artillery, who lost his arm at Rhode Island, where he was acting as aide-de-camp to Lafayette; Major Lenfant, employed as engineer; Baron Steuben, a Prussian officer, a good tactician, who arrived at the commencement of 1778, and was of essential service in disciplining the American troops. These officers, and several others, obtained employment in America. The greatest number, however, of those who presented themselves were refused service, and returned to France, with some few exceptions, to bear thither their own prejudices against the Americans. Some of those who remained appear to have written home likewise in the same spirit. General Washington therefore observes very justly in one of his letters, that Lafayette, in his correspondence, by destroying the unfavourable impressions that were given of the Americans, and seeking, on the contrary, to excite the feelings of the French in their favour, rendered a new and very important service to their cause. (Manuscript No. 1.)

D. — RETREAT OF BARREN-HILL.

As the English army was preparing to evacuate Philadelphia, Lafayette was sent, with a detachment of two thousand chosen men, and five pieces of cannon, to a station half-way betwixt that city and Valley-Forge; this was Barren-hill. A corps of militia under General Porter had been placed on Lafayette's left wing; but he retired farther back, and the English took advantage of that movement to surround Lafayette's detachment. General Grant, with seven thousand men and fourteen pieces of cannon, was behind him, and nearer than himself to the only ford by which it was possible for him to pass the Schuylkill. General Grey, with two thousand men, arrived on his left at Barren-hill church; whilst the remainder of the English army, under the command of Generals Clinton and Howe, prepared to attack him in front. It is said that Admiral Lord Howe joined the army as a volunteer. The English generals felt so certain of the capture of Lafayette, that they sent to Philadelphia several invitations to a féte, at which they said Lafayette would be present. If he had not, in truth, manoeuvred rather better than they did, the whole corps must inevitably have been lost. Alarm-guns were fired by the army; General Washington felt additional anxiety from the fact that, those troops being the flower of his army, their defeat would, he knew, have discouraged the rest. Lafayette instantly formed his plan of operation: he threw some troops into the churchyard, to check those of General Grey. He made a false attack upon General Grant, 'shewing him the heads of columns; and whilst the latter halted, and formed his troops to receive him, he caused his detachment to file off. By these manoeuvres he gained the ford, and passed it in presence of the enemy, without losing a single man. Two English lines met, and were on the point of attacking each other, for there was no longer anything between them; the Americans had been for some time in safety at the other side of the Schuylkill. The English then returned to Philadelphia, much fatigued and ashamed, and were laughed at for their ill success. (Manuscript No. 1.)

E. — ARRIVAL OF THE FRENCH FLEET.

The treaty with France became known a short time before the opening of the campaign. The national enthusiasm for the Americans had much increased, but the ministry was afraid of war. Necker, in particular, did all he could to prevent the court of France from espousing the American cause, which may serve as an answer to the accusations of revolutionary ardour that were made against him by the aristocrats in France. Maurepas was very timid, but the news of the taking of Burgoyne inspired him with some courage. The Count de Vergennes flattered himself that he should succeed in avoiding war. The court of France shewed little sincerity in its proceedings with England. The treaty was at length concluded. Dr. Franklin, Silas Deane, and John Adams, accompanied by many other Americans then in Paris, were presented to the King and royal family. They repaired afterwards to the young Madame de Lafayette, who was at Versailles, wishing to testify by that public act how much they thought themselves indebted to Lafayette for the happy direction which their affairs had taken. The news of the treaty excited a great sensation in America, and, above all, in the army. Lafayette had long since returned from his command in the north to the head-quarters of General Washington. The manifesto of the French government to the British cabinet contained this expression: "The Americans having become independent by their declaration of such a day." "That," said Lafayette, smiling, "is a principle of national sovereignty which shall one day be recalled to them." The French revolution, and the part which he took in it, have doubly verified this prediction. (Manuscript No. 1.)

Mr. Marshall's work contains a curious dissertation upon the declaration of war between France and England, and gives also the extract of a memorial of M. Turgot, which it would be interesting to verify. It would then be seen what opinions were supported at that time, concerning the colonies in general, and the quarrel with the English colonies in particular, by one of the most liberal and enlightened men in regard to political and commercial questions. The idea that the queen supported the war party is not correct; her social tastes were rather of the Anglomania kind; her politics were completely Austrian, and the court of Vienna did not wish that France should have any pretext for refusing to fulfil the conditions of the treaty made with it, which were soon afterwards exacted; but the queen, like a true woman of the world, followed the impulse given by Paris, the commercial towns, and the public.

Dr. Ramsay alludes to the happiness which Lafayette must have experienced when, upon learning the happy news of the French alliance, he, with tears of joy, embraced his illustrious general. Several persons present have since recollected that when the message of the court of Versailles to that of London was read aloud, with all the justifications which dwelt upon the right of the American nation to give themselves a government, Lafayette exclaimed,—"That is a great truth which we will recall to them at home." (Manuscript No. 2.)

F. — DISSENSIONS BETWEEN THE FRENCH FLEET AND THE AMERICAN ARMY.

The history of Dr. Gordon, that of Ramsay, and of Mr. Marshall, give a detailed account of the arrival of Count d'Estaing at the entrance of the Delaware, his arrival at Sandyhook, and the expedition against Rhode Island. Lafayette conducted thither, from White Plains, two thousand men of the continental troops. He made that journey (two hundred and forty miles) very rapidly, and arrived before the remainder of the troops under Sullivan were in readiness. It is to be lamented that the latter general persuaded Count d'Estaing to await the cooperation of the Americans, whilst, had he encouraged him to force the passage between, Rhode Island and Cannanicut Island, he would have had time, at the first moment of his arrival, to have captured fifteen hundred Hessians who were upon the last-mentioned island. On the other hand, M. d'Estaing was wrong in being displeased with General Sullivan for effecting his passage and taking possession of the forts on the north of the island, as soon as he learnt that they had been abandoned by the enemy, and without having concerted any plan of operations with the admiral. Everything, however, went on extremely well. The Americans had twelve thousand men upon the island; their right was composed of the half of the continentalists brought by Lafayette from White Plains, and of five thousand militia, and was under the command of General Greene; the left consisted also of five thousand militia, with the other half of the continentalists, and was commanded by M. de Lafayette. On the 8th of August the American army proceeded to Howland's ferry, whilst the squadron forced the passage. The English set fire to three of their own frigates; they had six frigates, and several other vessels, burnt during this expedition. In the afternoon of the day that Sullivan's army landed, they were expecting the battalions of Foix and Hainaut, and the marines, which were to have joined Lafayette's corps, when Admiral Howe suddenly hove in sight, and took possession of the anchorage that Count d'Estaing had quitted, in order to force his passage between the islands. The French sailors feared that the enemy, would take advantage of their situation, enclosed as they were between the islands, or that some reinforcements would at least be thrown upon the southern part of the island; but the wind having changed during the night, Count d'Estaing sailed out gallantly through the fire of the English batteries, and Lord Howe, cutting his cables, fled before him. This skilful admiral would have paid dearly for his bold manoeuvre, if the storm had not come most opportunely to his aid.

Mr. Marshall, who had the letters of Washington and Lafayette before him, states the manner in which Lafayette, on the one side, exposed himself, without reserve, to the loss of his popularity, and on the other, zealously exerted himself in defending the honour of the French from the accusations that the dissatisfaction of the Americans had universally excited, especially at Rhode Island and Boston, against the officers of the squadron; and also to prevent that dissatisfaction from breaking into open disputes. Sullivan, the senior of the three majors-general, was commander-in-chief. It was after an explanation with Lafayette, his friend and comrade, that he softened, by a subsequent order of the day, the expressions which he had imprudently used in the one preceding. General Greene, a man of superior merit, contributed much to the reconciliation. The ex-president, Hancock, who had at first loudly expressed his displeasure, consented to repair to Boston to endeavour to calm the public mind, and to obtain provisions for the squadron. The popularity of Lafayette was usefully employed during his short visit to that town. The congress, and General Washington also, thought that this quarrel could not he too speedily appeased; but they were at a distance, and a proper mixture of firmness and persuasion was required from the first moment. Such a perfect understanding, however, was now established, that it was not even disturbed by the unfortunate event which, some time afterwards, cost M. de Saint Sauveur his life. Much was also due to Dr. Cooper, a distinguished minister of the Presbyterian church. (Manuscript No. 2.)

CORRESPONDENCE. 1777—1778.

TO THE DUKE D'AYEN.~{1}

London, March 9,1777.

You will be astonished, my dear father, at the news I am on the point of giving you: it has cost me far more than I can express not to consult you. My respect and affection for you, as well as my great confidence in you, must convince you of the truth of this assertion; but my word was given, and you would not have esteemed me had I broken it; the step I am now taking will at least prove to you, I hope, the goodness of my intentions. I have found a peculiar opportunity of distinguishing myself, and of learning a soldier's trade: I am a general officer in the army of the United States of America. The frankness of my conduct, and my zeal in their service, have completely won their confidence. I have done, on my side, all I could do for them, and their interest will ever be dearer to me than my own. In short, my dear father, I am at this moment in London, anxiously awaiting letters from my friends; upon receiving them, I shall set off from hence, and, without stopping at Paris, I shall embark in a vessel that I have myself purchased and chartered. My travelling companions are the Baron de Kalb, a very distinguished officer, brigadier in the King's service, and major-general, as well as myself, in the United States' army; and some other excellent officers, who have kindly consented to share the chances of my fate. I rejoice at having found such a glorious opportunity of occupying myself, and of acquiring knowledge. I am conscious that I am making an immense sacrifice, and that to quit my family, my friends, and you, my dearest father, costs me more than it could do any other person,—because I love you all far more tenderly than any other person ever loved his friends. But this voyage will not be a very long one; we see every day far longer journeys taken for amusement only; and I hope also to return more worthy of all those who are kind enough to regret my absence. Adieu, my dear father, I hope I shall soon see you again. Retain your affection for me; I ardently desire to merit it—nay, I do merit it already, from my warm affection towards you, and from the respect that, during the remainder of his life, will be felt for you by,

Your affectionate son,

LAFAYETTE.

I have arrived, for one moment, at Paris, my dear father, and have only time to bid you again farewell. I intended writing to my uncle~{2} and to Madame de Lusignem, but I am in such haste that I must request you to present to them my respectful regards.

Endnotes:

1. Jean Paul Francois de Noailles, Duke d'Ayen, afterwards Duke de Noailles, died a member of the House of Peers, in 1824, and was, as is well known, father-in-law to M. de Lafayette, who had been, we may say, brought up in the hotel de Noailles, and who looked upon all his wife's family as his own. It was at that time divided into two branches. The Marshal de Noailles, governor of Roussillon, and captain of the guards of the Scotch company, was the head of the eldest branch. He bad four children: the Duke d'Ayen, the Marquis de Noailles, and Mesdames de Tesse and de Lesparre. The Duke d'Ayen, a general officer, captain of the guards in reversion, married Henriette Anne Louise Daguesseau, by whom he had daughters only. The eldest, who died in 1794, on the same scaffold as her mother, had married her cousin, the Viscount de Noailles. The second, Marie Adrienne Françoise,—born the 2nd November, 1759, died the 24th December, 1807,—was Madame de Lafayette. The three others, unmarried at the time this letter was written, married afterwards MM. de Thésan, de Montagu, and de Grammont.

The head of the younger branch of the familv of Noailles was the Marshal de Mouchy, brother of the Marshal de Noailles, whose children were, the Prince de Poix, who died peer of France, and captain of the guards under the restoration; the Duchess de Duras; and the same Viscount de Noailles, member of the constituent assembly, who died of his wounds in the expedition to St. Domingo, in 1802.

2. M. de Lusignem, an uncle by marriage of M. de Lafayette.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

On board the Victory, May 30th, 1777.

I am writing to you from a great distance, my dearest love, and, in addition to this painful circumstance, I feel also the still more dreadful uncertainty of the time in which I may receive any news of you. I hope, however, soon to have a letter from you; and, amongst the various reasons which render me so desirous of a speedy arrival, this is the one which excites in me the greatest degree of impatience. How many fears and anxieties enhance the keen anguish I feel at being separated from all that I love most fondly in the world! How have you borne my second departure? have you loved me less? have you pardoned me? have you reflected that, at all events, I must equally have been parted from you,—wandering about in Italy,~{1} dragging on an inglorious life, surrounded by the persons most opposed to my projects, and to my manner of thinking? All these reflections did not prevent my experiencing the most bitter grief when the moment arrived for quitting my native shore. Your sorrow, that of my friends, Henrietta,~{2} all rushed upon my thoughts, and my heart was torn by a thousand painful feelings. I could not at that instant find any excuse for my own conduct. If you could know all that I have suffered, and the melancholy days that I have passed, whilst thus flying from all that I love best in the World! Must I join to this affliction the grief of hearing that you do not pardon me? I should, in truth, my love, be too unhappy. But I am not speaking to you of myself and of my health, and I well know that these details will deeply interest you.

Since writing my last letter, I have been confined to the most dreary of all regions: the sea is so melancholy, that we mutually, I believe, sadden each other. I ought to have landed by this time, but the winds have been most provokingly contrary; I shall not arrive at Charlestown for eight or ten days. It will be a great pleasure to me to land, as I am expecting to do, in that city. When I am once on shore, I shall hope each day to receive news from France; I shall learn so many interesting, things, both concerning the new country I am seeking, and, above all, that home which I have quitted with so much regret! Provided I only learn that you are in good health, that you still love me, and that a certain number of my friends entertain the same feelings towards me, I can become a perfect philosopher with respect to all the rest,—whatever it may be, or whatever land it may concern. But if my heart be attacked in its most vulnerable part, if you were to love me less, I should feel, in truth, too miserable. But I need not fear this—need I, my dearest love? I was very ill during the first part of my voyage, and I might have enjoyed the pleasure of an ill-natured person, that of knowing that I had many fellow sufferers. I treated myself according to my own judgment, and recovered sooner than the other passengers; I am now nearly the same as if I were on shore. I am certain that, on my arrival, I shall be in a perfect state of health, and continue so for a long time. Do not fancy that I shall incur any real dangers by the occupations I am undertaking. The post of general officer has always been considered like a commission for immortality. The service will be very different from the one I must have performed if I had been, for example, a colonel in the French army. My attendance will only be required in the council. Ask the opinion of all general officers,—and these are very numerous, because, having once attained that height, they are no longer exposed to any hazards, and do not therefore yield their places to inferior officers, as is the case in other situations. To prove that I do not wish to deceive you, I will acknowledge that we are at this moment exposed to some danger, from the risk of being attacked by English vessels, and that my ship is not of sufficient force for defence. But when I have once landed, I shall be in perfect safety. You see that I tell you everything, my dearest love; confide therefore in me, and do not, I conjure you, give way to idle fears. I will not write you a journal of my voyage: days succeed each other, and, what is worse, resemble each other. Always sky, always water, and the next day a repetition of the same thing. In truth, those who write volumes upon a sea voyage must be incessant babblers; for my part, I have had contrary winds, as well as other people; I have made a long voyage, like other people; I have encountered storms; I have seen vessels, and they were far more interesting for me than for any other person: well! I have not observed one single event worth the trouble of relating, or that has not been described by many other persons.

Let us speak of more important things: of yourself, of dear Henriette, and of her brother or sister. Henriette is so delightful, that she has made me in love with little girls. To whichever sex our new infant may belong, I shall receive it with unbounded joy. Lose not a moment in hastening my happiness by apprising me of its birth. I know not if it be because I am twice a father, but my parental feelings are stronger than they ever were. Mr. Deane, and my friend Carmichael, will forward your letters, and will, I am sure, neglect nothing to promote my happiness as soon as possible. Write, and even send me a confidential person, it would give me such pleasure to question any one who has seen you: Landrin, for example; in short, whom you please. You do not know the warmth and extent of my affection, if you fancy that you may neglect anything relating to yourself. You will be, at first, a long time without hearing from me; but when I am once established you will receive letters constantly, and of a very recent date. There is no great difference of time between letters from America and letters from Sicily. I own that Sicily weighs heavily on my heart. I fancied myself near seeing you again! But let me break off at the word Sicily. Adieu, my dearest love; I shall write to you from Charlestown, and write to you also before I arrive there. Good night, for the present.

7th June.

I am still floating on this dreary plain, the most wearisome of all human habitations. To console myself a little, I think of you and of my friends: I think of the pleasure of seeing you again. How delightful will be the moment of my arrival! I shall hasten to surprise and embrace you. I shall perhaps find you with your children. To think, only, of that happy moment, is an inexpressible pleasure to me; do not fancy that it is distant; although the time of my absence will appear, I own, very long to me, yet we shall meet sooner than you can expect. Without being able myself to fix the day or the month of our reunion, without being aware even of the cause of our absence, the exile prescribed by the Duke d'Ayen, until the month of January, appeared to me so immeasurably long, that I certainly shall not inflict upon myself one of equal length. You must acknowledge, my love, that the occupation and situation I shall have are very different from those that were intended for me during that useless journey. Whilst defending the liberty I adore, I shall enjoy perfect freedom myself: I but offer my service to that interesting republic from motives of the purest kind, unmixed with ambition or private views; her happiness and my glory are my only incentives to the task. I hope that, for my sake, you will become a good American, for that feeling is worthy of every noble heart. The happiness of America is intimately connected with the happiness of all mankind; she will become the safe and respected asylum of virtue, integrity, toleration, equality, and tranquil happiness.

We have occasionally some slight alarms, but, with a little skill and good luck, I am certain of reaching the port in safety. I am more pleased with this prospect, because I feel that I am becoming, every day, extremely reasonable. You know that the viscount~{3} has the habit of repeating, that "travelling forms young men;" if he said this but once every morning and once every evening, in truth it would not be too much, for I am constantly more strongly impressed with the justice of the observation. I know not where the poor viscount is at this present moment, nor the prince,~{4} nor all my other friends. This state of uncertainty is a very painful one. Whenever you chance to meet any one whom I love, tell him a thousand and ten thousand things from me. Embrace tenderly my three sisters, and tell them that they must remember me, and love me; present my compliments to Mademoiselle Marin;~{5} I recommend, also, poor Abbé Fayon to your care. As to the Marshal de Noailles, tell him that I do not write to him, for fear of tiring him, and because I should have nothing to announce to him but my arrival; that I am expecting his commissions for trees or plants, or whatever else he may desire, and that I should wish my exactness in fulfilling his wishes to be a proof of my affection for him. Present, also, my respects to the Duchess de la Trémoïlle,~{6} and tell her that I make the same offer to her as to the Marshal de Noailles, either for herself or her daughter-in-law, who has such a beautiful garden. Tell my old friend Desplaus,~{7} also, that I am well. As to my aunts, Madame d'Ayen and the viscountess, I am myself writing to them.

These are my little commissions, my love; I have also written to Sicily. We have seen, to-day, several kinds of birds, which announce that we are not far from shore. The hope of arriving is very sweet, for a ship life is a most wearisome one. My health, fortunately, allows me to occupy myself a little; I divide my time between military books and English books. I have made some progress in this language, which will become very necessary to me. Adieu; night obliges me to discontinue my letter, as I forbade some days ago, any candles being used in my vessel: see how prudent I have become! Once more, adieu; if my fingers be at all guided by my heart, it is not necessary to see clearly to tell you that I love you, and that I shall love you all my life.

15th June—At Major Hughes's.~{8}

I have arrived, my dearest love, in perfect health, at the house of an American officer; and, by the most fortunate chance in the world, a French vessel is on the point of sailing; conceive how happy I am. I am going this evening to Charlestown, from whence I will write to you. There is no important news. The campaign is opened, but there is no fighting, or at least, very little. The manners in this part of the world are simple, polite, and worthy in every respect of the country in which the noble name of liberty is constantly repeated. I intended writing to Madame d'Ayen, but I find it is impossible. Adieu, adieu, my love. From Charlestown I shall repair, by land, to Philadelphia, to rejoin the army. Is it not true that you will always love me?

Endnotes:

1. At the moment when M. de Lafayette's project of departure was taking place, he had been desired to join the Duke d'Ayen, and Madame de Tessé, his sister, who were setting out for Italy and Sicily.

2. The first-born of M. de Lafayette, which died during his voyage. (See letter 16th June, 1778.)

3. The Viscount de Noailles, brother-in-law to M. de Lafayette.

4. The Prince de Poix, son of the Marshal de Mouchy, and consequently uncle, according to the mode of Bretagne, to Madame de Lafayette.

5. Mademoiselle Marin was governess to Mesdemoiselles de Noailles; and the Abbé Fayon was tutor to M. de Lafayette.

6. Madame de Lafayette, author of the Princess de Clever, had only one daughter, who became Madame de la Tremoille, and heiress to the property of the Lafayette family; and who cheerfully consented to restore to her cousins, who inhabited the province, those estates which a love of their family might make them wish to conserve to the heritors of the name of Lafayette. Since that period, the members of that branch, of which M. de Lafayette was the last scion, have constantly kept up feelings, not only of relationship, but of friendship, with the family of la Tremoille.

7. An old valet de chambre.

8. The father of him who so generously devoted himself to save Lafayette from the prisons of Olmutz—(Note of M. de Lafayette.)

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

June 19th, 1777, Charlestown.

If my last letter, my dearest love, written five or six days ago, was closed hastily, I hope at least that the American captain, whom I then believed to be a French one, will remit it to you as soon as possible. That letter announced to you that I had landed safely in this country, after having suffered a little from sea-sickness during the first weeks of my voyage; that I was staying with a very kind officer, in whose house I was received upon my arrival; that I had been nearly two months at sea, and was anxious to continue my journey immediately; that letter spoke of everything which interests my heart most deeply, of my regret at having quitted you, of your pregnancy, and of our dear children; it told you, also, that I was in perfect health. I repeat this extract from it, because the English may very possibly amuse themselves by seizing it on its way. I place, however, so much confidence in my lucky star, that I hope it will reach you safely. That same star has protected me to the astonishment of every person; you may, therefore, trust a little to it in future, my love, and let this conviction tranquillize your fears. I landed after having sailed for several days along a coast swarming with hostile vessels. On my arrival here every one told me that my ship must undoubtedly be taken, because two English frigates had blockaded the harbour. I even sent, both by land and sea, orders to the captain to put the men on shore, and burn the vessel, if he had still the power of doing so. Well! by a most extraordinary piece of good fortune, a sudden gale of wind having blown away the frigates for a short time, my vessel arrived at noon-day, without having encountered friend or foe. At Charlestown I have met with General Howe, a general officer, now engaged in service. The governor of the state is expected this evening from the country. All the persons with whom I wished to be acquainted have shewn me the greatest attention and politeness (not European politeness merely); I can only feel gratitude for the reception I have met with, although I have not yet thought proper to enter into any detail respecting my future prospects and arrangements. I wish to see the congress first. I hope to set out in two days for Philadelphia, which is a land journey of more than two hundred and fifty leagues. We shall divide into small parties; I have already purchased horses and light carriages for this purpose. There are some French and American vessels at present here, who are to sail out of the harbour in company to-morrow morning, taking advantage of a moment when the frigates are out of sight: they are numerous and armed, and have promised me to defend themselves stoutly against the small privateers they will undoubtedly meet with. I shall distribute my letters amongst the different ships, in case any accident should happen to either one of them.

I shall now speak to you, my love, about the country and its inhabitants, who are as agreeable as my enthusiasm had led me to imagine. Simplicity of manner, kindness of heart, love of country and of liberty, and a delightful state of equality, are met with universally. The richest and the poorest man are completely on a level; and although there are some immense fortunes in this country, I may challenge any one to point out the slightest difference in their respective manner towards each other. I first saw and judged of a country life at Major Hughes's house: I am at present in the city, where everything somewhat resembles the English customs, except that you find more simplicity here than you would do in England. Charlestown is one of the best built, handsomest, and most agreeable cities that I have ever seen. The American women are very pretty, and have great simplicity of character; and the extreme neatness of their appearance is truly delightful: cleanliness is everywhere even more studiously attended to here than in England. What gives me most pleasure is to see how completely the citizens are all brethren of one family. In America there are none poor, and none even that can be called peasants. Each citizen has some property, and all citizens have the same rights as the richest individual, or landed proprietor, in the country. The inns are very different from those of Europe; the host and hostess sit at table with you, and do the honours of a comfortable meal; and when you depart, you pay your bill without being obliged to tax it. If you should dislike going to inns, you may always find country houses in which you will be received, as a good American, with the same attention that you might expect in a friend's house in Europe.

My own reception has been most peculiarly agreeable. To have been merely my travelling companion, suffices to secure the kindest welcome. I have just passed five hours at a large dinner given in compliment to me by an individual of this town. Generals Howe and Moultrie, and several officers of my suite, were present. We drank each other's health, and endeavoured to talk English, which I am beginning to speak a little. I shall pay a visit to-morrow, with these gentlemen, to the governor of the state, and make the last arrangements for my departure. The next day, the commanding officers here will take me to see the town and its environs, and I shall then set out to join the army. I must close and send my letter immediately, because the vessel goes to-night to the entrance of the harbour, and sails to-morrow at five o'clock. As all the ships are exposed to some risk, I shall divide my letters amongst them. I write to M M. de Coigny, de Poix, de Noailles, de Ségur, and to Madame d'Ayen.~{1} If either of these should not receive my letter, be so kind as to mention this circumstance.

From the agreeable life I lead in this country, from the sympathy which makes me feel as much at ease with the inhabitants as if I had known them for twenty years, the similarity between their manner of thinking and of my own, my love of glory and of liberty, you might imagine that I am very happy: but you are not with me, my dearest love; my friends are not with me; and there is no happiness for me when far from you and them. I often ask you if you still love, but I put that question still more often to myself and my heart ever answers, yes: I trust that heart does not deceive me. I am inexpressibly anxious to hear from you; I hope to find some letters at Philadelphia. My only fear is that the privateer which was to bring them to me should have been captured on her way. Although I can easily imagine that I have excited the especial displeasure of the English, by taking the liberty of coming hither in spite of them, and landing before their very face, yet I must confess that we shall be even more than on a par if they succeed in catching that vessel, the object of my fondest hopes, by which I am expecting to receive your letters. I entreat you to send me both long and frequent letters. You are not sufficiently conscious of the joy with which I shall receive them. Embrace, most tenderly, my Henriette: may I add, embrace our children? The father of those poor children is a wanderer, but he is, nevertheless, a good honest man,—a good father, warmly attached to his family, and a good husband also, for he loves his wife most tenderly. Present my compliments to your friends and to mine; may I not say our friends? with the permission of the Countess Auguste and Madame de Fronsac.~{2} By my friends, you know that I mean my own dear circle, formerly of the court, and which afterwards became the society of the wooden sword;~{3} we republicans like it the better for the change. This letter will be given you by a French captain, who, I think, will deliver it into your own hands; but I must confide to you that I have an agreeable anticipation for to-morrow, which is to write to you by an American, who will sail on the same day, but at a later hour. Adieu, then, my dearest love; I must leave off for want of time and paper; and if I do not repeat ten thousand times that I love you, it is not from want of affection, but from my having the vanity to hope that I have already convinced you of it. The night is far advanced, the heat intense, and I am devoured by gnats; but the best countries, as you perceive, have their inconveniences. Adieu, my love, adieu.

Endnotes:

1. The Viscount de Coigny, son of the last marshal of that name, was the intimate friend of M. de Lafayette in his youth. He died young, perhaps even during this voyage.—(See the letters of January the 6th, and February 13th, 1778.) The Count de Ségur, who had married the sister of the Duchess d'Ayen, and who was, therefore, the uncle of M. de Lafayette, continued, to the last, his friend—(See the memoirs published before his death, which occurred in 1830.)

2. The Countess Auguste d'Aremberg, the wife of Count de Lamark, the friend of Mirabeau, and the Duchess de Fronsac, daughter-in-law to the Marshal de Richelieu.

3. A society of young men, who first assembled at Versailles, and afterwards at an inn at Paris.—(Note by M. de Lafayette.)

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Petersburg, July 17th, 1777.

I am very happy, my dearest love, if the word happiness can truly be applied to me, whilst I am separated from all I love; there is a vessel on the point of sailing for France, and I am enabled to tell you, before setting out for Philadelphia, that I love you, my dearest life, and that you may be perfectly tranquil respecting my health. I bore the fatigue of the journey without suffering from it; although the land expedition was long and wearisome, yet the confinement of my melancholy ship was far more so. I am now eight days' journey from Philadelphia, in the beautiful state of Virginia. All fatigue is over, and I fear that my martial labours will be very light, if it be true that General Howe has left New York, to go I know not whither. But all the accounts I receive are so uncertain, that I cannot form any fixed opinion until I reach my destination; from thence, my love, I shall write you a long letter. You must already have received four letters from me, if they have not fallen into the hands of the English. I have received no news of you, and my impatience to arrive at Philadelphia to hear, from you cannot be compared to any other earthly feeling. Conceive the state of my mind, after having passed such an immense length of time without, having received a line from any friend! I hope all this will soon end, for I cannot live in such a state of uncertainty. I have undertaken a task which is, in truth, beyond my power, for my heart was not formed for so much suffering.

You must have learnt the particulars of the commencement of my journey: you know that I set out in a brilliant manner in a carriage, and I must now tell you that we are all on horseback,—having broken the carriage, according to my usual praiseworthy custom,—and I hope soon to write to you that we have arrived on foot. The journey is somewhat fatiguing; but although several of my comrades have suffered a great deal, I have scarcely myself been conscious of fatigue. The captain who takes charge of this letter will, perhaps, pay you a visit; I beg you in that case to receive him with great kindness.

I scarcely dare think of the time of your confinement, and yet I think of it every moment of the day. I cannot dwell upon it without the most dreadful anxiety. I am, indeed, unfortunate, at being so distant from you; even if you did not love me, you ought to pity me; but you do love me, and we shall mutually render each other happy. This little note will be short in comparison to the volumes I have already sent you, but you shall receive another letter in a few days from me.

The farther I advance to the north, the better pleased am I with the country and inhabitants. There is no attention or kindness that I do not receive, although many scarcely know who I am. But I will write all this to you more in detail from Philadelphia. I have only time to intreat you, my dearest love, not to forget an unhappy man, who pays most dearly for the error he committed in parting from you, and who never felt before how tenderly he loved you.

My respectful compliments to Madame d'Ayen, and my affectionate regards to my sisters. Tell M. de Coigny and M. de Poix that I am in good health, in case some letters should miscarry which I shall send by another opportunity, by which I shall also send a line to you, although I do not consider it so secure as this one.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

July 23rd, 1777.

I am always meeting, my dearest love, with opportunities of sending letters; I have this time only a quarter of an hour to give you. The vessel is on the point of sailing, and I can only announce to you my safe arrival at Annapolis, forty leagues from Philadelphia. I can tell you nothing of the town, for, as I alighted from my horse, I armed myself with a little weapon dipt in invisible ink. You must already have received five letters from me, unless King George should have received some of them. The last one was despatched three days since; in it I announced to you that my health was perfectly good, and had not been even impaired by my anxiety to arrive at Philadelphia. I have received bad news here; Ticonderoga, the strongest American post, has been forced by the enemy; this is very unfortunate, and we must endeavour to repair the evil. Our troops have taken, in retaliation, an English general officer, near New York. I am each day more miserable from having quitted you, my dearest love; I hope to receive news of you at Philadelphia, and this hope adds much to the impatience I feel to arrive in that city. Adieu, my life; I am in such haste that I know not what I write, but I do know that I love you more tenderly than ever; that the pain of this separation were necessary to convince me how very dear you are to me, and that I would give at this moment half my existence for the pleasure of embracing you again, and telling you with my own lips how well I love you. My respects to Madame d'Ayen, my compliments to the viscountess, my sisters, and all my friends: to you only have I time to write. O! if you knew how much I sigh to see you, how much I suffer at being separated from you, and all that my heart has been called on to endure, you would think me somewhat worthy of your love! I have left no space for Henriette; may I say for my children? Give them a hundred thousand embraces; I shall most heartily share them with you.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Philadelphia, September 12th, 1777.

I write you a line, my dearest love, by some French officers, my friends, who embarked with me, but, not having received any appointment in the American army, are returning to France. I must begin by telling you that I am perfectly well, because I must end by telling you that we fought seriously last night, and that we were not the strongest on the field of battle. Our Americans, after having stood their ground for some time, ended at length by being routed: whilst endeavouring to rally them, the English honoured me with a musket ball, which slightly wounded me in the leg,—but it is a trifle, my dearest love; the ball touched neither bone nor nerve, and I have escaped with the obligation of lying on my back for some time, which puts me much out of humour. I hope that you will feel no anxiety; this event ought, on the contrary, rather to reassure you, since I am incapacitated from appearing on the field for some time: I have resolved to take great care of myself; be convinced of this, my love. This affair, will, I fear, be attended with bad consequences for America. We will endeavour, if possible, to repair the evil. You must have received many letters from me, unless the English be equally ill-disposed towards my epistles as towards my legs. I have not yet received one letter, and I am most impatient to hear from you. Adieu; I am forbidden to write longer. For several days I have not had time to sleep. Our retreat, and my journey hither, took up the whole of last night; I am perfectly well taken care of in this place. Tell all my friends that I am in good health. My tender respects to Madame d'Ayen. A thousand compliments to the viscountess and my sisters. The officers will soon set out. They will see you; what pleasure! Good night, my dearest life! I love you better than ever.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

October 1st, 1777.

I wrote to you, my dearest love, the 12th of September; the twelfth was the day after the eleventh, and I have a little tale to relate to you concerning that eleventh day. To render my action more meritorious, I might tell you that prudent reflections induced me to remain for some weeks in my bed, safe sheltered from all danger; but I must acknowledge that I was encouraged to take this measure by a slight wound, which I met with I know not how, for I did not, in truth, expose myself to peril. It was the first conflict at which I had been present; so you see how very rare engagements are. It will be the last of this campaign, or, in all probability, at least, the last great battle; and if anything should occur, you see that I could not myself be present.

You may, therefore, my love, feel perfectly secure. I have much pleasure in thus reassuring you. While I am desiring you not to be alarmed on my account, I repeat to myself that you love me; and this little conversation with my own heart is inexpressibly delightful to me, for I love you more tenderly than I have ever done before.

My first occupation was to write to you the day after that affair: I told you that it was a mere trifle, and I was right; all I fear is that you should not have received my letter. As General Howe is giving, in the meantime, rather pompous details of his American exploits to the king his master, if he should write word that I am wounded, he may also write word that I am killed, which would not cost him anything; but I hope that my friends, and you especially, will not give faith to the reports of those persons who last year dared to publish that General Washington, and all the general officers of his army, being in a boat together, had been upset, and every individual drowned. But let us speak about the wound: it is only a flesh-wound, and has neither touched bone nor nerve. The surgeons are astonished at the rapidity with which it heals; they are in an ecstasy of joy each time they dress it, and pretend it is the finest thing in the world: for my part, I think it most disagreeable, painful, and wearisome; but tastes often differ: if a man, however, wished to be wounded for his amusement only, he should come and examine how I have been struck, that he might be struck precisely in the same manner. This, my dearest love, is what I pompously style my wound, to give myself airs, and render myself interesting.

I must now give you your lesson, as wife of an American general officer. They will say to you, "They have been beaten:" you must answer,—"That is true; but when two armies of equal number meet in the field, old soldiers have naturally the advantage over new ones; they have, besides, had the pleasure of killing a great many of the enemy, many more than they have lost." They will afterwards add: "All that is very well; but Philadelphia is taken, the capital of America, the rampart of liberty!" You must politely answer, "You are all great fools! Philadelphia is a poor forlorn town, exposed on every side, whose harbour was already closed; though the residence of congress lent it, I know not why, some degree of celebrity. This is the famous city which, be it added, we will, sooner or later, make them yield back to us." If they continue to persecute you with questions, you may send them about their business in terms which the Viscount de Noailles will teach you, for I cannot lose time by talking to you of politics.

I have delayed writing your letter till the last, in the hope of receiving one from you, answering it, and giving you the latest intelligence of my health; but I am told, if I do not send immediately to congress, twenty-five leagues from hence, my captain will have set out, and I shall lose the opportunity of writing to you. This is the cause of my scrawl being more unintelligible than usual; however, if I were to send you anything but a hurried scrawl, I ought, in that case, to beg your pardon, from the singularity of the case. Recollect, my dearest love, that I have only once heard of you, from Count Pulaski. I am much provoked, and am very miserable. Imagine how dreadful it is to be far from all I love, in this state of suspense and almost despair; it is impossible to support it; and I feel, at the same time, that I do not deserve to be pitied. Why was I so obstinately bent on coming hither ? I have been well punished for my error; my affections are too strongly rooted for me to be able to perform such deeds. I hope you pity me; if you knew all I suffer, especially at this moment, when everything concerning you is so deeply interesting! I cannot, without shuddering, think of this. I am told that a parcel has arrived from France; I have despatched expresses on every road and in every corner; I have sent an officer to congress; I am expecting him every day, and you may conceive with what feelings of intense anxiety. My surgeon is also very anxious for his arrival, for this suspense keeps my blood in a state of effervescence, and he would fain require that it should flow calmly. O, my dearest life, if I receive good news from you, and all I love,—if those delightful letters arrive to-day, how happy I shall be!—but with what agitation, also, I shall open them!

Be perfectly at ease about my wound; all the faculty in America are engaged in my service. I have a friend, who has spoken to them in such a manner that I am certain of being well attended to; that friend is General Washington. This excellent man, whose talents and virtues I admired, and whom I have learnt to revere as I know him better, has now become my intimate friend: his affectionate interest in me instantly won my heart. I am established in his house, and we live together like two attached brothers, with mutual confidence and cordiality. This friendship renders me as happy as I can possibly be in this country. When he sent his best surgeon to me, he told him to take charge of me as if I were his son, because he loved me with the same affection. Having heard that I wished to rejoin the army too soon, he wrote me a letter full of tenderness, in which he requested me to attend to the perfect restoration of my health. I give you these details, my dearest love, that you may feel quite certain of the care that is taken of me. Amongst the French officers, who have all expressed the warmest interest for me, M. de Gimat, my aide-de-camp, has followed me about like my shadow, both before and since the battle, and has given me every possible proof of attachment. You may thus feel quite secure on this account, both for the present and for the future.

All the foreigners who are in the army,—for I do not speak only of those who have not been employed, and who, on their return to France, will naturally give an unjust account of America, because the discontented, anxious to revenge their fancied injuries, cannot be impartial,—all the foreigners, I say, who have been employed here are dissatisfied, complain, detest others, and are themselves detested: they do not understand why I am the only stranger beloved in America, and I cannot understand why they are so much hated. In the midst of the disputes and dissensions common to all armies, especially when there are officers of various nations, I, for my part, who am an easy and a good-tempered man, am so fortunate as to be loved by all parties, both foreigners and Americans: I love them all—I hope I deserve their esteem; and we are perfectly satisfied the one with the other. I am at present in the solitude of Bethlehem, which the Abbé Raynal has described so minutely. This establishment is a very interesting one; the fraternity lead an agreeable and a very tranquil life: we will talk over all this on my return; and I intend to weary those I love, yourself, of course, in the first place, by the relation of my adventures, for you know that I was always a great prattler. You must become a prattler also, my love, and say many things for me to Henriette—my poor little Henriette! embrace her a thousand times—talk of me to her, but do not tell her all I deserve to suffer; my punishment will be, not to be recognised by her on my arrival; that is the penance Henriette will impose on me. Has she a brother or a sister?—the choice is quite indifferent to me, provided I have a second time the pleasure of being a father, and that I may soon learn that circumstance. If I should have a son, I will tell him to examine his own heart carefully; and if that heart should be a tender one, if he should have a wife whom he loves as I love you, in that case I shall advise him not to give way to feelings of enthusiasm, which would separate him from the object of his affection, for that affection will afterwards give rise to a thousand dreadful fears.

I am writing, by a different opportunity, to various persons, and also to yourself. I think this letter will arrive first; if this vessel should accidentally arrive, and the other one be lost, I have given the viscount a list of the letters I have addressed to him. I forgot to mention my aunts;~{1} give them news of me as soon as this reaches you. I have made no duplicata for you, because I write to you by every opportunity. Give news of me, also, to M. Margelay,~{2} the Abbe Fayon, and Desplaces.

A thousand tender regards to my sisters; I permit them to despise me as an infamous deserter—but they must also love me at the same time. My respects to Madame la Comtesse Auguste, and Madame de Fronsac. If my grandfather's letters should not reach him, present to him my respectful and affectionate regards. Adieu, adieu, my dearest life; continue to love me, for I love you most tenderly.

Present my compliments to Dr. Franklin and Mr. Deane; I wished to write to them, but cannot find time.

Endnotes:

1. Madame de Chavaniac and Madame de Motier, sisters of General Lafayette's father.

2. An ancient officer, to whom M. de Lafayette was confided, on leaving college, as to a governor.

TO M. DE VERGENNES,

MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS.

Whitemarsh Camp, October 24, 1777.

SIR,—You were formerly annoyed, much against my wish, by the part you were called upon to take in my first projects; you will, perhaps, also feel annoyed by the attention I take the liberty of requesting you to give to the objects I have at present in view. They may appear to you as little worthy as the first of occupying your valuable time; but in this case, as in the previous one, my good intentions (even should they be ill-directed) may serve as my apology. My age might also, perhaps, have been one, formerly; I only request now that it may not prevent you from taking into consideration whether my opinions be rational.

I do not permit myself to examine what succour the glorious cause we are defending in America may have received; but my love for my own country makes me observe, with pleasure, under how many points of view the vexations of the family of England may be advantageous to her. There is, above all, one project which, in every case, and at all events, would present, I think, rational hopes of attaining any useful end, in exact proportion to the means employed in its execution; I allude to an expedition of greater or less importance against the East Indies; and I should fear to injure the cause by proposing myself to take charge of it.

Without pretending to the art of prophecy in relation to present events, but convinced in the sincerity of my heart that to injure England would be serving (shall I say revenging?) my country, I believe that this idea would powerfully excite the energy of each individual bearing the honourable name of Frenchman. I came hither without permission; I have obtained no approbation but that which may be implied by silence; I might also undertake another little voyage without having been authorized by government: if the success be uncertain, I should have the advantage of exposing only myself to danger,—and what should, therefore, prevent my being enterprising? If I could but succeed in the slightest degree, a flame kindled on the least important establishment of England, even if part of my own fortune were to be consumed also, would satisfy my heart by awakening hopes for a more propitious hour.

Guided by the slight knowledge which my ignorance has been able to obtain, I shall now state in what manner, Sir, I would undertake this enterprise. An American patent, to render my movements regular, the trifling succours by which it might be sustained, the assistance I might obtain at the French islands, the speculations of some merchants, the voluntary aid of a few of my fellow comrades,—such are the feeble resources which would enable me to land peacefully on the Isle of France. I should there find, I believe, privateers ready to assist me, and men to accompany me in sufficient numbers to lie in wait for the vessels returning from China, which would offer me a fresh supply of force, sufficient perhaps to enable me to fall upon one or two of their factories, and destroy them before they could be protected. With an aid, which I dare scarcely hope would be granted me, and, above all, with talents which I am far from having yet acquired, might not some advantage be taken of the jealousy of the different nabobs, the hatred of the Mahrattas, the venality of the sepoys, and the effeminacy of the English? Might not the crowd of Frenchmen dispersed at present on that coast be employed with advantage in the cause? As to myself personally, in any case, the fear of compromising my own country would prevent my acknowledging the pride I feel in being her son, even as the nobility in some provinces occasionally lay aside their marks of distinction to reassume them at a later period.

Although by no means blind as to the imprudence of the step, I would have hazarded this enterprise alone, if the fear of injuring the interests I wish to serve, by not sufficiently understanding them, or of proving a detriment to some better-concerted expedition, had not arrested my intended movements; for I have the vanity to believe that a project of this kind may one day be executed on a grander scale, and by far abler hands, than mine. Even now it might be executed in a manner that would, I think, insure success, if I could hope to receive from the government, not an order, not succours, not mere indifference,—but I know scarcely what, which I can find no language to express with sufficient delicacy.

In this case, an order from the king, should he deign to restore me for some time to my friends and family, without prohibiting my return hither, would give me a hint to prepare myself with American continental commissions; some preparations and instructions from France might also precede that pretended return, and conduct me straight to the East Indies: the silence which was formerly perhaps an error, would then become a sacred duty, and would serve to conceal my true destination, and above all the sort of approbation it might receive.

Such, Sir, are the ideas that, duly impressed with a sense of my incapacity and youth, I presume to submit to your better judgment, and, if you should think favourably of them, to the various modifications to which you may conceive them liable; I am certain, at least, that they cannot be deemed ridiculous, because they are inspired by a laudable motive—the love of my country. I only ask for the honour of serving her under other colours, and I rejoice at seeing her interest united to that of the republicans for whom I am combating; earnestly hoping, however, that I shall soon be allowed to fight under the French banner. A commission of grenadier in the king's army would, in that case, be more agreeable to me than the highest rank in a foreign army.

I reproach myself too much, Sir, for thus offering you my undigested ideas regarding Asia, to heighten my offence by presumptuously tracing a plan of America, embellished with my own reflections, which you do not require, and have not asked for: the zeal which led me hither, and, above all, the friendship which unites me to the general-in-chief, would render me liable to the accusation of partiality, from which feeling I flatter myself I am wholly free. I reserve till my return the honour of mentioning to you the names of those officers of merit whom the love of their profession has led to this continent. All those who are French, Sir, have a right to feel confidence in you. It is on this ground that I claim your indulgence; I have a second claim upon it from the respect with which I have the honour to be, Sir,

Your very humble and obedient servant,

LAFAYETTE.

If this letter should weary you, Sir, the manner in which it will reach you may be deemed perhaps but too secure. I entrust it to M. de Valfort, captain of the regiment of Aunis, with the commission of colonel in our islands, whom his talents, reputation, and researches, have rendered useful in this country, and whom the wishes of General Washington would have detained here, if his health had not rendered it absolutely necessary for him to return to France. I shall here await your orders, (which cannot, without difficulty, enter an American harbour,) or I shall go myself to receive them, as future circumstances may render proper; for, since my arrival, I have not received one order which could regulate my movements.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

The Camp near Whitemarsh, Oct. 29th, 1777.

I send you an open letter, my dearest love, in the person of M. de Valfort, my friend, whom I entreat you to receive as such. He will tell you at length everything concerning me; but I must tell you myself how well I love you. I have too much pleasure in experiencing this sentiment not to have also pleasure in repeating it to you a thousand times, if that were possible. I have no resource left me, my love, but to write and write again, without even hoping that my letters will ever reach you, and I endeavour to console myself, by the pleasure of conversing with you, for the disappointment and anguish of not receiving one single line from France. It is impossible to describe to you how completely my heart is torn by anxiety and fear; nor should I wish to express all I feel, even if it were in my power to do so; for I would not disturb, by any painful impressions, the happiest moments of my exile—those in which I can speak to you of my tenderness. But do you, at least, pity me? Do you comprehend all that I endure? If I could only know at this moment where you are, and what you are doing! but in the course of time I shall learn all this, for I am not separated from you in reality, as if I were dead. I am expecting your letters with an impatience, from which nothing can for an instant divert my thoughts: every one tells me they must soon arrive; but can I rely on this? Neglect not one opportunity of writing to me, if my happiness be still dear to you. Repeat to me that you love me: the less I merit your affection, the more necessary to me are your consoling assurances of it. You must have received so many accounts of my slight wound, that all repetitions on the subject would be useless; and if you ever believed it was anything serious, M. de Valfort can undeceive you. In a very short time I shall not even be lame.

Is it not dreadful, my love, to reflect that it is by the public, by English papers, by our enemy's gazettes, that I should receive intelligence concerning you? In an unimportant article relating to my arrival here, they ended by speaking of yourself, your situation, and approaching confinement; that source of all my fears, agitations, hopes, and joy. How happy I should feel if I could learn that I had become a second time a father, that you are in good health, that my two children and their mother are likely to constitute the felicity of my future life! This country is delightful for the growth of filial and paternal love: these feelings may even be termed passions, and give rise to the most assiduous and unremitting care. The news of your confinement will be received with joy by the whole army, and above all by its commander.

I shall find my poor little Henriette very amusing on my return. I hope she will deliver a long sermon of reproof, and that she will speak to me with all the frankness of friendship; for my daughter will be always, I trust, my most intimate friend; I will only be a father in affection, and paternal love shall unite in my heart with friendship. Embrace her, my love,—may I say embrace them?—for me! But I will not dwell upon all I suffer from this painful uncertainty. I know that you share all the sorrows of my heart, and I will not afflict you. I wrote by the last opportunity to Madame d'Ayen; since my wound I have written to everybody; but those letters have perhaps been lost. It is not my fault; I wish to return a little evil to those wicked letter-stealers when they are on land, but on the sea I have only the consolation of the weak, that of cursing heartily those of whom I cannot be revenged. A thousand tender respects to your mother; my kind regards to your sisters. Do not forget my compliments to the Marshal de Noailles, and to your paternal and maternal relations. I have received four foolish lines from the Marshal de Mouchy, who does not say one word of you; I swore at him in every language. Adieu, my love, adieu; ask questions of my good, excellent friend, M. de Valfort, for my paper is coming to a close. It is dreadful to be reduced to hold no communication but by letter with a person whom one loves as I love you, and as I shall ever love you, until I draw my latest breath.

I have not missed a single opportunity, not even the most indirect one, without writing to you. Do the same also on your side, my dearest life, if you love me; but I should indeed be unfeeling and ungrateful if I were to doubt your love.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Camp of Whitemarsh, November 6th, 1777.

You will perhaps receive this letter, my dearest love, at the expiration of five or six years, for I am writing to you by an accidental opportunity, in which I do not place great trust. See what a circuit my letter must make. An officer in the army will carry it to Fort Pitt, three hundred miles in the interior of the continent; it will then embark on the great Ohio river, and traverse regions inhabited only by savages; having reached New Orleans, a small vessel will transport it to the Spanish islands; a ship of that nation—God knows when!—will carry it with her on her return to Europe. But it will even then be very distant from you; and it is only after having been soiled by the dirty hands of all the Spanish post-masters that it will be allowed to pass the Pyrenees. It may very possibly be unsealed and resealed five or six times before it be finally placed in your hands; but it will prove to you that I neglect no opportunity, not even the most indirect one, of sending you news of myself, and of repeating how well I love you. It is, however, for my own satisfaction only that I delight to tell you so at present; I hope that I shall have the pleasure of throwing this letter in the fire when it arrives, for be it understood I shall be there also, and my presence will render this piece of paper very insignificant. The idea is most soothing to my heart, and I indulge it with rapture. How enchanting to think of the moments when we shall be together! but how painful also to recollect that my joy is only caused by an illusion, and that I am separated from the reality of my happiness by two thousand leagues, an immense ocean, and villanous English vessels! Those wretched vessels make me very unhappy. One letter, one letter only, have I yet received from you, my love; the others have been lost or taken, and are probably at the bottom of the sea. I must consider our enemy the cause of this dreadful loss; for I am certain you do not neglect to write to me from every port, and by all the despatches sent by Dr. Franklin and Mr. Deane. And yet some ships arrived; I have sent couriers to every corner of the continent; but all my hopes have been frustrated. Perhaps you have not been properly informed. I entreat you, my love, to inquire carefully in what manner you may best send your letters. It is so dreadful for me to be deprived of them, and I am so unhappy at being separated from all I love! I am guilty, it is true, of having caused my own calamity; but you would pity me if you knew all that my heart endured.

But why tell you news in a letter destined to travel about the world for years, which will reach you perhaps in shreds, and will represent antiquity personified? My other despatches must have informed you of the various events of the campaign. The battle of Brandywine, in which I most skilfully lost a small part of my leg; the taking possession of Philadelphia, which will by no means, however, be attended with the ill consequences which have been expected in Europe; the attack of a post at Germantown, at which I was not present, from having received a recent wound, and which did not prove successful; the surrender of General Burgoyne, with five thousand men—that same Burgoyne who wished to devour us all, last spring, but who finds himself this autumn the prisoner of war of our northern army; and finally, our present situation, stationed immediately opposite each other, at four leagues distance, and General Howe established at Philadelphia, making great exertion to take certain forts, and having already lost in the attempt one large and one small vessel. You are now quite as well informed on the subject as if you were general-in-chief of either army. I need only at this moment add, that the wound of the 11th of September, of which I have spoken to you a thousand times, is almost completely healed, although I am still a little lame, but that in a few days there will scarcely remain any traces of this accident. All these details will be given you very circumstantially by my friend Mr. de Valfort, to whom I have given a letter for you, and on whose accounts you may implicitly rely. I have just learnt that he has sailed, not, as I expected, in a packet, but in a good frigate of thirty-five guns: it would be unlucky indeed if he were taken. From his lips, and the epistle which I confided to him five or six days ago, you will learn all that your affection for me may make you wish to know. I wish you also knew the precise day of my return, and I am most impatient to fix that day myself, and to be able to say to you, in the joy of my heart,—upon such a day I set out to rejoin you, and obtain all earthly happiness.

A little gentleman, in a blue coat, with lemon-coloured facings and a white waistcoat, a German, coming hither to solicit an employment, (which he will not obtain,) and speaking wretched French, told me that he quitted Europe in the month of August: he talked to me of politics and of the ministry; he upset all Europe generally, and every court individually; but he knew not a word of what was most interesting to my heart. I examined him in every way; I mentioned fifty names to him; his answer was always, "Me not know them noblemen."

I will not weary you with a long account of the state of my finances. The accident which occurred to my vessel was a source of vexation to me, because that vessel would have been useful to me in the present settlement of my affairs; but it is no longer in being, and I should reproach myself with having sent it back, had I not been obliged to make its return a clause in my engagements, on account of my minority.~{1} Everything here is incredibly dear. We feel the consolation of the malevolent in thinking that the scarcity is still greater in Philadelphia. In time of war, we become reconciled to all we may ourselves endure by making our enemies suffer ten times more. We have here an abundance of provisions, and we learn with pleasure that our English neighbours are not so fortunate.

Do not think at present of being uneasy on my account; all the hard blows are over, and there can be, at most, but some little miniature strokes, which cannot concern me; I am not less secure in this camp than I should be were I in the centre of Paris. If every possible advantage to be attained by serving here; if the friendship of the army in gross and in detail; if a tender union with the most respectable and admirable of men, General Washington, sustained by mutual confidence; if the affection of those Americans by whom I wish to be beloved; if all this were sufficient to constitute my happiness, I should indeed have nothing to desire. But my heart is far from being tranquil. You would compassionate me, if you knew how much that heart suffers, and how well it loves you!

The present season of the year makes me hope to receive some letters. What may they announce to me? what may I hope? O, my dearest love, how cruel it is to endure this painful anxiety, under circumstances which are so all-important to my happiness! Have I two children? have I another infant to share my tender affection with my dearest Henriette? Embrace my dear little girl a thousand times for me; embrace them both tenderly, my dearest life. I trust they will know one day how well I love them.

A thousand respectful compliments to Madame d'Ayen; a thousand tender ones to the viscountess and my sisters; to my friends a million of kind regards; remember me to every one. Adieu! take care of your own health; give me circumstantial details of all things; believe that I love you more than ever, that you are the first object of my affection, and the surest guarantee of my felicity. The sentiments so deeply engraven on a heart which belongs to you alone, shall remain, whilst that heart continues to vibrate. Will you, too, always love me, my dearest life? I dare believe it, and that we shall mutually render each other happy by an affection equally tender and eternal. Adieu, adieu! how delightful would it be to embrace you at this moment, and say to you with my own lips, I love thee better than I have ever loved, and I shall love thee for the remainder of my life.

Endnotes:

1. It will be seen by the memoirs that that vessel was wrecked on the bar of Charlestown.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.~{1}

(ORIGINAL.)

Haddonfield, the 26th November, 1777.

Dear General,—I went down to this place since the day before yesterday, in order to be acquainted of all the roads and grounds around the enemy. I heard at my arrival that their main body was between Great and Little Timber Creek since the same evening. Yesterday morning, in reconnoitering about, I have been told that they were very busy in crossing the Delaware. I saw them myself in their boats, and sent that intelligence to General Greene as soon as possible, as every other thing I heard of. But I want to acquaint your excellency of a little event of last evening, which, though not very considerable in itself, will certainly please you, on account of the bravery and alacrity a small party of ours shewed on that occasion. After having spent the most part of the day to make myself well acquainted with the certainty of their motions, I came pretty late into the Gloucester road, between the two creeks. I had ten light-horse with Mr. Lindsey, almost a hundred and fifty riflemen, under Colonel Buttler, and two piquets of the militia, commanded by Colonels Hite and Ellis: my whole body was not three hundred. Colonel Armand, Colonel Laumoy, the chevaliers Duplessis and Gimat, were the Frenchmen who went with me. A scout of my men, with whom was Mr. Duplessis, to see how near were the first piquets from Gloucester, found at two miles and a half of it a strong post of three hundred and fifty Hessians with field-pieces, (what number I did know, by the unanimous deposition of their prisoners,) and engaged immediately. As my little reconnoitering party was all in fine spirits, I supported them. We pushed the Hessians more than an half mile from the place where was their main body, and we made them run very fast: British reinforcements came twice to them, but, very far from recovering their ground, they went always back. The darkness of the night prevented us then to push that advantage, and, after standing upon the ground we had got, I ordered them to return very slow to Haddonfield. The enemy, knowing perhaps by our drums that we were not so near, came again to fire at us; but the brave Major Moriss, with a part of his riflemen, sent them back, and pushed them very fast. I understand that they have had between twenty-five and thirty wounded, at least that number killed, among whom I am certain, is an officer; some say more, and the prisoners told me they have lost the commandant of that body; we got yet, this day, fourteen prisoners. I sent you the most moderate account I had from themselves. We left one single man killed, a lieutenant of militia, and only five of ours were wounded. Such is the account of our little entertainment, which is indeed much too long for the matter, but I take the greatest pleasure to let you know that the conduct of our soldiers is above all praises: I never saw men so merry, so spirited, so desirous to go on to the enemy, whatever forces they could have, as that small party was in this little fight. I found the riflemen above even their reputation, and the militia above all expectations I could have: I returned to them my very sincere thanks this morning. I wish that this little success of ours may please you, though a very trifling one, I find it very interesting on account of the behaviour of our soldiers.

Some time after I came back, General Varnum arrived here; General Greene is, too, in this place since this morning; he engaged me to give you myself the account of the little advantage of that small part of the troops under his command. I have nothing more to say to your excellency about our business on this side, because he is writing himself: I should have been very glad, if circumstances had permitted me, to be useful to him upon a greater scale. As he is obliged to march slow in order to attend his troops, and as I am here only a volunteer, I will have the honour to wait upon your excellency as soon as possible, and I'll set out to-day: it will be a great pleasure for me to find myself again with you.

With the most tender affection and highest respect I have the honour to be,

LAFAYETTE.

I must tell, too, that the riflemen had been the whole day running before my horse, without eating or taking any rest.

I have just now a certain assurance that two British officers, besides those I spoke you of, have died this morning of their wounds in an house; this, and some other circumstances, let me believe that their lost may be greater than I told to your excellency.

Endnotes:

1. All the letters addressed to General Washington, as well as to other Americans, were written in English. Since the death of General Washington, his family have returned to General Lafayette the original letters he had addressed to him, and these are now in our possession. The originals of Washington's letters were almost all lost in the French revolution; but M. de Lafayette, during his last journey to the United States, had a great number of them copied from minutes preserved by Washington himself: they have been inserted in the collection we have so frequently quoted from, published by Mr. Sparks.

TO THE DUKE D'AYEN.

Camp Gulph, Pennsylvania, Dec. 16th, 1777.

This letter, if it ever reaches you, will find you at least in France; some hazards are averted by this circumstance, but I must not indulge in many hopes. I never write a letter for Europe without deploring before hand the fate most probably awaiting it, and I labour, undoubtedly, more for Lord Howe than for any of my friends. The bad season is fortunately drawing near; the English ships will be obliged to quit their confounded cruising stations; I may then receive letters, and forward them from hence with some degree of security; this will make me very happy, and will prevent my wearying you by a repetition of events which I wish you to be acquainted with, but which I do not wish to remind you of each time I write. I am very anxious for the account of your journey. I depend principally on Madame de Lafayette for its details; she well knows how interesting they will be to me. The Marshall de Noailles tells me, in general terms, that the letters he receives from Italy assure him the travellers are all in good health. From him I have also learnt the confinement of Madame Lafayette; he does not speak of it as if it were the happiest of all possible circumstances; but my anxiety was too keen to be able to make any distinction of sex; and by kindly writing to me, and giving me an account of the event, he rendered me far, far happier than he imagined, when he announced to me that I had only a daughter.~{1} The Rue de St. Honoré has now for ever lost its credit, whilst the other Hotel de Noailles has acquired new lustre by the birth of Adrian.~{2} It is truly an ill-proceeding on my part to throw that disgrace on a family from whom I have received so much kindness. You must now be freezing on the high roads of France; those of Pennsylvania are also very cold, and I endeavour vainly to persuade myself that the difference of latitude betwixt this and Paris ought to give us, comparatively speaking, a delightful winter: I am even told that it will be more severe. We are destined to pass it in huts, twenty miles from Philadelphia, that we may protect the country, be enabled to take advantage of every favourable opportunity, and also have the power of instructing the troops by keeping them together. It would, perhaps, have been better to have entered quietly into real winter quarters; but political reasons induced General Washington to adopt this half-way measure.

I wish I had sufficient skill to give you a satisfactory account of the military events passing in this country; but, in addition to my own incapacity, reasons, of which you will understand the weight, prevent my hazarding in a letter, exposed to the capture of the English fleet, a relation which might explain many things, if I had the happiness of conversing with you in person. I will, however, endeavour to repeat to you, once more, the most important events that have occurred during this campaign. My gazette, which will be more valuable from not containing my own remarks, must be preferable to the gazettes of Europe; because the man who sees with his own eyes, even if he should not see quite correctly, must always merit more attention than the man who has seen nothing. As to the gazettes which the English shower upon us, they appear to me only fit to amuse chairmen over their mugs of ale; and even these men must have indulged in liberal potations, not to perceive the falsehoods they contain. It seems to me that the project of the English ministry was to cut in a line that part of America which extends from the bay of Chesapeak to Ticonderoga. General Howe was ordered to repair to Philadelphia by the Elk river; Burgoyne to descend to Albany, and Clinton to ascend from New York by the North river: the three generals might in this manner have joined hands; they would have received, or pretended to receive, the submission of the alleged conquered provinces; we should only have retained for our winter quarters the interior of the country, and have depended solely for our resources on the four southern states. An attack on Charlestown may also, perhaps, have been intended: in the opinion of the cabinet of the King of England, America was thus almost conquered. Providence fortunately permitted some alterations to take place in the execution of this finely-conceived project—to exercise, probably, for some time, the constancy of the British nation.

When I arrived at the army, in the month of August, I was much astonished at not finding any enemies. After having made some marches into Jersey, where nothing occurred, General Howe embarked at New York. We were encamped, and expecting their descent, on the Chester side, when we learnt that they were at the mouth of the Elk river. General Washington marched to meet them, and after having taken up several stations, resolved to wait their arrival upon some excellent heights on the Brandywine stream. The 11th of September the English marched to attack us; but whilst they were amusing us with their cannon, and several movements in front, they suddenly detached the greater part of their troops, the choicest men of their army, with the grenadiers, under the command of General Howe, and Lord Cornwallis, to pass a ford four miles distant on our right. As soon as General Washington became aware of this movement, he detached his whole right wing to march towards them. Some unfounded reports, which had all the appearance of truth, and which contradicted the first accounts received, arrested for a length of time the progress of that wing, and when it arrived, the enemy had already crossed the ford. Thus it became necessary to engage in an open field with an army superior in numbers to our own. After having for some time sustained a very brisk fire, though many were killed on the side of the English, the Americans were obliged to give way. A portion of them was rallied and brought back: it was then that I received my wound. In a word, to cut the matter short, everything went on badly on both sides, and General Washington was defeated—because he could not gain the first general battle which had been fought during the war. The army reassembled at Chester; but having been carried to a distance from it, I have not been able to follow its different movements. General Howe took advantage of the disorder which a tremendous rain had occasioned in our army to pass the Schuylkill; he repaired to Philadelphia, to take possession of it, and stationed himself between that town and Germantown. General Washington attacked him on the 4th of October; and we may assert that our general beat theirs, although their troops defeated ours, since he surprised him, and even drove back the English for some time; but their experience proved again triumphant over our unpractised officers and soldiers. Some time before this event, an American brigadier, placed in detachment on the other side of the river, had been attacked at night in his camp, and had lost some of his men. These are the only important events which took place on our side during the six weeks that I was absent from the camp, whilst obliged to keep my bed from my unclosed wound: at that time we received good news of General Burgoyne. When I first rejoined the army, whilst General Howe was on the water, I learnt that Ticonderoga had been precipitately abandoned by the Americans, leaving there several cannons and a quantity of ammunition. This success inflamed the pride of General Burgoyne, and he issued a pompous proclamation, for which he has since paid very dearly. His first act was to send a detachment, which was repulsed; he was not, however, discouraged, but marched on, through immense forests, in a country which contained but a single road. General Gates had under his orders fifteen or sixteen thousand men, who distressed the enemy by firing upon them from behind the trees. Whether conqueror or conquered, General Burgoyne's force became gradually weakened, and every quarter of a league cost him many men. At length, surrounded on all sides, and perishing with hunger, he was obliged to enter into a convention, in virtue of which he was conducted by the New England militia into that same state of Massachusets in which it had been asserted in London he was to take up his winter quarters. From thence he is to be conveyed, with whatever troops he may have remaining, to England, at the expense of the king his master. Ticonderoga has been since evacuated by the English.

General Clinton, who had set out rather late from New York, after having taken and destroyed Fort Montgomery, on the north river, endeavoured to reach the rear of Gates; but, hearing of the convention, he returned on the same road by which he had advanced. If he had been more rapid in his march, the affairs of General Gates would not have ended so fortunately.

When my wound permitted me, after the space of six weeks, to rejoin the army, I found it stationed fifteen miles from Philadelphia; our northern reinforcements had arrived; General Howe was much incommoded by two forts, one on the Jersey side, the other on the little Island of Mud, that you will find on your map, below the Schuylkill. These two forts defended the chevaux de frise of the Delaware; they held out for a long time, against all the efforts of the English troops, both by sea and land. Two young Frenchmen, who were acting there as engineers, acquired much glory by their conduct; MM. de Fleury, of the regiment of Rouergue, and Mauduit Duplessis, who had also at the same time the command of the artillery: he is an artillery officer in France. Some Hessians, commanded by Count Donop, attacked the fort in which Mauduit was stationed, and were repulsed with considerable loss. Count Donop was taken and received a mortal wound. These forts, after having made a vigorous resistance, were at length evacuated. Lord Cornwallis then passed into Jersey with five thousand men. The same number of our troops was stationed there, under one of our major-generals. As I was only a volunteer, I went to reconnoitre the ground, and having met, accidentally, with a detachment near the enemy's post, the good conduct of my soldiers rendered an imprudent attack justifiable. We were told that his lordship had been wounded. He then again re-crossed the river, and we also did the same. Some days afterwards our army assembled at Whitemarsh, thirteen miles from Philadelphia. The whole army of General Howe advanced to attack us: but having examined our position on every side, they judged it more prudent to retire during the night, after four days of apparent hesitation. We then executed the project of crossing over on this side of the Schuylkill, and after having been delayed on the opposite side, from finding on this shore a part of the enemy's army, (although they only fired a few cannon balls at us,) they left us a free passage the next day, and we shall all repair unto our huts for the winter.

Whilst remaining there, the American army will endeavour to clothe itself, because it is almost in a state of nudity,—to form itself, because it requires instruction,—and to recruit itself, because it is feeble; but the thirteen states are going to rouse themselves and send us some men. My division will, I trust, be one of the strongest, and I will exert myself to make it one of the best. The actual situation of the enemy is by no means an unpleasant one; the army of Burgoyne is fed at the expense of the republic, and the few men they may obtain back, for many will be lost upon the road, will immediately be replaced by other troops; Clinton is quite at ease in New York, with a numerous garrison; General Howe is paying court to the belles of Philadelphia. The liberty the English take of stealing and pillaging from friends as well as foes, places them completely at their ease. Their ships at present sail up to the town, not, however, without some danger, for, without counting the ship of sixty-four guns and the frigate which were burnt before the forts, and without counting all those that I trust the ice will destroy, several are lost every day on the difficult passage they are obliged to undertake.

The loss of Philadelphia is far from being so important as it is conceived to be in Europe. If the differences of circumstances, of countries, and of proportion between the two armies, were not duly considered, the success of General Gates would appear surprising when compared to the events that have occurred with us,—taking into account the superiority of General Washington over General Gates. Our General is a man formed, in truth, for this revolution, which could not have been accomplished without him. I see him more intimately than any other man, and I see that he is worthy of the adoration of his country. His tender friendship for me, and his complete confidence in me, relating to all military and political subjects, great as well as small, enable me to judge of all the interests he has to conciliate, and all the difficulties he has to conquer. I admire each day more fully the excellence of his character, and the kindness of his heart. Some foreigners are displeased at not having been employed, (although it did not depend on him to employ them)—others, whose ambitious projects he would not serve,—and some intriguing, jealous men, have endeavoured to injure his reputation; but his name will be revered in every age, by all true lovers of liberty and humanity; and although I may appear to be eulogising my friend, I believe that the part he makes me act, gives me the right of avowing publicly how much I admire and respect him. There are many interesting things that I cannot write, but will one day relate to you, on which I entreat you to suspend your judgment, and which will redouble your esteem for him.

America is most impatiently expecting us to declare for her, and France will one day, I hope, determine to humble the pride of England. This hope, and the measures which America appears determined to pursue, give me great hopes for the glorious establishment of her independence. We are not, I confess, so strong as I expected, but we are strong enough to fight; we shall do so, I trust, with some degree of success; and, with the assistance of France, we shall gain, with costs, the cause that I cherish, because it is the cause of justice,—because it honors humanity,—because it is important to my country,—and because my American friends, and myself, are deeply engaged in it. The approaching campaign will be an interesting one. It is said that the English are sending us some Hanoverians; some time ago they threatened us with, what was far worse, the arrival of some Russians. A slight menace from France would lessen the number of these reinforcements. The more I see of the English, the more thoroughly convinced I am, that it is necessary to speak to them in a loud tone.

After having wearied you with public affairs, you must not expect to escape without being wearied also with my private affairs. It is impossible to be more agreeably situated than I am in a foreign country. I have only feelings of pleasure to express, and I have each day more reason to be satisfied with the conduct of the congress towards me, although my military occupations have allowed me to become personally acquainted with but few of its members. Those I do know have especially loaded me with marks of kindness and attention. The new president, Mr. Laurens, one of the most respectable men of America, is my particular friend. As to the army, I have had the happiness of obtaining the friendship of every individual; not one opportunity is lost of giving me proofs of it. I passed the whole summer without accepting a division, which you know had been my previous intention; I passed all that time at General Washington's house, where I felt as if I were with a friend of twenty years' standing. Since my return from Jersey, he has desired me to choose, amongst several brigades, the division which may please me best; but I have chosen one entirely composed of Virginians. It is weak in point of numbers at present, just in proportion, however, to the weakness of the whole army, and almost in a state of nakedness; but I am promised cloth, of which I shall make clothes, and recruits, of which soldiers must be made, about the same period; but, unfortunately, the last is the most difficult task, even for more skilful men than me. The task I am performing here, if I had acquired sufficient experience to perform it well, would improve exceedingly my future knowledge. The major-general replaces the lieutenant-general, and the field-marshal, in their most important functions, and I should have the power of employing to advantage, both my talents and experience, if Providence and my extreme youth allowed me to boast of possessing either. I read, I study, I examine, I listen, I reflect, and the result of all is the endeavour at forming an opinion, into which I infuse as much common sense as possible. I will not talk much, for fear of saying foolish things; I will still less risk acting much, for fear of doing foolish things; for I am not disposed to abuse the confidence which the Americans have kindly placed in me. Such is the plan of conduct which I have followed until now, and which I shall continue to follow; but when some ideas occur to me, which I believe may become useful when properly rectified, I hasten to impart them to a great judge, who is good enough to say that he is pleased with them. On the other hand, when my heart tells me that a favourable opportunity offers, I cannot refuse myself the pleasure of participating in the peril, but I do not think that the vanity of success ought to make us risk the safety of an army, or of any portion of it, which may not be formed or calculated for the offensive. If I could make an axiom, with the certainty of not saying a foolish thing, I should venture to add that, whatever may be our force, we must content ourselves with a completely defensive plan, with the exception, however, of the moment when we may be forced to action, because I think I have perceived that the English troops are more astonished by a brisk attack than by a firm resistance.

This letter will be given you by the celebrated Adams, whose name must undoubtedly be known to you. As I have never allowed myself to quit the army, I have not been able to see him. He wished that I should give him letters of introduction to France, especially to yourself. May I hope that you will have the goodness of receiving him kindly, and even of giving him some information respecting the present state of affairs. I fancied you would not be sorry to converse with a man whose merit is so universally acknowledged. He desires ardently to succeed in obtaining the esteem of our nation. One of his friends himself told me so.

Endnotes:

1. Madame Charles de Latour-Maubourg.

2. A son of the Viscount de Noailles, who was the son of Marshal de Mouchy, and married the eldest daughter of the Duke d'Ayen.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.~{1}

(ORIGINAL)

Camp, 30th December, 1777.

MY DEAR GENERAL,—I went yesterday morning to head-quarters with an intention of speaking to your excellency, but you were too busy, and I shall lay down in this letter what I wished to say.

I don't need to tell you that I am sorry for all that has happened for some time past. It is a necessary dependence of my most tender and respectful friendship for you, which affection is as true and candid as the other sentiments of my heart, and much stronger than so new an acquaintance seems to admit; but another reason, to be concerned in the present circumstances, is my ardent and perhaps enthusiastic wishes for the happiness and liberty of this country. I see plainly that America can defend herself if proper measures are taken, and now I begin to fear lest she should be lost by herself and her own sons.

When I was in Europe I thought that here almost every man was a lover of liberty, and would rather die free than live a slave. You can conceive my astonishment when I saw that toryism was as openly professed as whiggism itself: however, at that time I believed that all good Americans were united together; that the confidence of congress in you was unbounded. Then I entertained the certitude that America would be independent in case she should not lose you. Take away, for an instant, that modest diffidence of yourself, (which, pardon my freedom, my dear General, is sometimes too great, and I wish you could know, as well as myself, what difference there is between you and any other man,) you would see very plainly that if you were lost for America, there is no body who could keep the army and the revolution for six months. There are open dissensions in congress, parties who hate one another as much as the common enemy; stupid men, who, without knowing a single word about war, undertake to judge you, to make ridiculous comparisons; they are infatuated with Gates, without thinking of the different circumstances, and believe that attacking is the only thing necessary to conquer. Those ideas are entertained in their minds by some jealous men, and perhaps secret friends to the British Government, who want to push you in a moment of ill humour to some rash enterprise upon the lines, or against a much stronger army. I should not take the liberty of mentioning these particulars to you if I did not receive a letter about this matter, from a young good-natured gentleman at York, whom Conway has ruined by his cunning, bad advice, but who entertains the greatest respect for you.

I have been surprised at first, to see the few establishments of this board of war, to see the difference made between northern and southern departments, to see resolves from congress about military operations; but the promotion of Conway is beyond all my expectations. I should be glad to have new major-generals, because, as I know, you take some interest in my happiness and reputation it is, perhaps, an occasion for your excellency to give me more agreeable commands in some interesting instances. On the other hand, General Conway says he is entirely a man to be disposed of by me. He calls himself my soldier, and the reason of such behaviour to me is, that he wishes to be well spoken of at the French court, and his protector, the Marquis de Castries, is an intimate acquaintance of mine; but since the letter of Lord Stirling I inquired in his character. I found that he was an ambitious and dangerous man. He has done all in his power, by cunning manoeuvres, to take off my confidence and affection for you. His desire was to engage me to leave this country. Now I see all the general officers of the army against congress; such disputes, if known by the enemy, would be attended with the worst consequences. I am very sorry whenever I perceive troubles raised among the defenders of the same cause, but my concern is much greater when I find officers coming from France, officers of some character in my country, to whom any fault of that kind may be imputed. The reason of my fondness for Conway was his being by all means a very brave and very good officer. However, that talent for manoeuvres, and which seems so extraordinary to congress, is not so very difficult a matter for any man of common sense who applies himself to it. I must pay to General Portail, and some French officers, who came to speak me, the justice to say, that I found them as I could wish upon this occasion; for it has made a great noise among many in the army. I wish, indeed, those matters could be soon pacified. I wish your excellency could let them know how necessary you are to them, and engage them at the same time to keep peace, and simulate love among themselves till the moment when those little disputes shall not be attended with such inconveniences. It would be, too, a great pity that slavery, dishonour, ruin, and unhappiness of a whole world, should issue from some trifling differences between a few men.

You will find, perhaps, this letter very useless, and even inopportune; but I was desirous of having a pretty, long conversation with you upon the present circumstances, to explain you what I think of this matter. As a proper opportunity for it did not occur, I took the liberty of laying down some of my ideas in this letter, because it is for my satisfaction to be convinced that you, my dear general, who have been indulgent enough to permit me to look on you as upon a friend, should know the confession of my sentiments in a matter which I consider as a very important one. I have the warmest love for my country and for every good Frenchman; their success fills my heart with joy; but, sir, besides, Conway is an Irishman, I want countrymen, who deserve, in every point, to do honour to their country. That gentleman had engaged me by entertaining my head with ideas of glory and shining projects, and I must confess, to my shame, that it is a too certain way of deceiving me.

I wished to join to the few theories about war I can have, and the few dispositions nature gave, perhaps, to me, the experience of thirty campaigns, in hope that I should be able to be the more useful in the present circumstances. My desire of deserving your satisfaction is stronger than ever, and everywhere you will employ me you can be certain of my trying every exertion in my power to succeed. I am now fixed to your fate, and I shall follow it and sustain it as well by my sword as by all means in my power. You will pardon my importunity in favour 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.

With the most tender and profound respect, I have the honour to be, &c.

Endnote:

1. This letter was occasioned by the momentary success of an intrigue, known in American history under the name of Conway's cabal. Conway, who wished to oppose Gates to Washington, had written to the former a letter, in which he attacked the general-in-chief. An aide-de-camp of Lord Stirling gained knowledge of that letter, and communicated its contents to Washington, who entered immediately into an explanation with Conway, in consequence of which the latter sent in his resignation, and announced the intention of re-entering the service of France. The resignation was not accepted by congress, and Conway was, on the contrary, named inspector-general of the army, with the rank of major-general, and the formation of the war office in relation to the mercenary troops. We see, by a letter from General Washington, that M. de Lafayette was the only person to whom he shewed General Conway's letter, transmitted by Lord Stirling's aide-de-camp.—(Letter to Horatio Gates, of the 4th of January, 1778, written from Washington. V. 1st, Appendix No. 6.)

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL)

Head-quarters, December 31st, 1777.

MY DEAR MARQUIS,—Your favour 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 colours, and that you possess a mind too exalted to condescend to low arts and intrigues to acquire a reputation. Happy, thrice happy, would it have been for this army and the cause we are embarked in, if the same generous spirit had pervaded all the actors in it. But one gentleman, whose name you have mentioned, had, I am confident, far different views; his ambition and great desire of being puffed off, as one of the first officers of the age, could only be equalled by the means which he used to obtain them. But finding that I was determined not to go beyond the line of my duty to indulge him in the first—nor to exceed the strictest rules of propriety to gratify him in the second—he became my inveterate enemy; and he has, I am persuaded, practised every art to do me an injury, even at the expense of reprobating a measure that did not succeed, that he himself advised to. How far he may have accomplished his ends, I know not; and except for considerations of a public nature, I care not; for, it is well known, that neither ambitious nor lucrative motives, led me to accept my present appointments, in the discharge of which, I have endeavoured to observe one steady and uniform system of conduct, which I shall invariably pursue, while I have the honour to command, regardless of the tongue of slander, or the powers of detraction. The fatal tendency of disunion is so obvious, that I have, in earnest terms, exhorted such officers as have expressed their dissatisfaction at General Conway's promotion, to be cool and dispassionate in their decision about the matter; and I have hopes that they will not suffer any hasty determination to injure the service. At the same time, it must be acknowledged, that officers' feelings upon these occasions are not to be restrained, although you may control their actions.

The other observations contained in your letter have too much truth in them; and, it is much to be lamented, that things are not now as they formerly were. But we must not, in so great a contest, expect to meet with nothing but sunshine. I have no doubt that everything happens for the best, that we shall triumph over all our misfortunes, and, in the end, be happy; when, my dear marquis, if you will give me your company in Virginia, we will laugh at our past difficulties and the folly of others; and I will endeavour, by every civility in my power, to shew you how much, and how sincerely, I am your affectionate and obedient servant.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Valley Forge, December 31st, 1777.

My Dear General,—I should have much reproached myself the liberty I took of writing to your excellency, if I had believed it could engage you in the trouble of answering that letter. But now, as you have written it, I must tell you that I received this favour with the greatest satisfaction and pleasure. Every assurance and proof of your affection fills my heart with joy, because that sentiment of yours is extremely dear and precious to me. A tender and respectful attachment for you, and an invariable frankness, will be found in my mind as you know me better; but, after those merits, I must tell you, that very few others are to be found. I never wished so heartily to be entrusted by nature with an immensity of talents than on this occasion; I could be then of some use to your glory and happiness, as well as to my own.

What man do not join the pure ambition of glory with this other ambitious of advancement, rank, and fortune? As an ardent lover of laurels, I cannot bear the idea that so noble a sentiment should be mixed with any low one. In your preaching moderation to the brigadiers upon such an occasion, I am not surprised to recognise your virtuous character. As I hope my warm interest is known to your excellency, I dare entertain the idea that you will be so indulgent as to let me know everything concerning you, whenever you will not be under the law of secrecy or particular circumstances.

With the most tender and affectionate friendship—with the most profound respect—I have the honour to be, &c.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Camp, near Valley-Forge, January 6th, 1778.

What a date, my dearest love, and from what a region I am now writing, in the month of January! It is in a camp, in the centre of woods, fifteen hundred leagues from you, that I find myself enclosed in the midst of winter. It is not very long since we were only separated from the enemy by a small river; we are at present stationed seven leagues from them, and it is on this spot that the American army will pass the whole winter, in small barracks, which are scarcely more cheerful than dungeons. I know not whether it will be agreeable to General Howe to visit our new city, in which case we would endeavour to receive him with all due honour. The bearer of this letter will describe to you the pleasant residence which I choose in preference to the happiness of being with you, with all my friends, in the midst of all possible enjoyments; in truth, my love, do you not believe that powerful reasons are requisite to induce a person to make such a sacrifice? Everything combined to urge me to depart,—honour alone told me to remain; and when you learn in detail the circumstances in which I am placed, those in which the army, my friend, its commander, and the whole American cause were placed, you will not only forgive me, but you will excuse, and I may almost venture to say, applaud me. What a pleasure I shall feel in explaining to you myself all the reasons of my conduct, and, in asking, whilst embracing you, a pardon, which I am very certain I shall then obtain! But do not condemn me before hearing my defence. In addition to the reasons I have given you, there is one other reason which I would not relate to every one, because it might appear like affecting airs of ridiculous importance. My presence is more necessary at this moment to the American cause, than you can possibly conceive; many foreigners, who have been refused employment, or whose ambitious views have been frustrated, have raised up some powerful cabals; they have endeavoured, by every sort of artifice, to make me discontented with this revolution, and with him who is its chief; they have spread as widely as they could, the report that I was quitting the continent. The English have proclaimed also, loudly, the same intention on my side. I cannot in conscience appear to justify the malice of these people. If I were to depart, many Frenchmen who are useful here would follow my example. General Washington would feel very unhappy if I were to speak of quitting him; his confidence in me is greater than I dare acknowledge, on account of my youth. In the place he occupies, he is liable to be surrounded by flatterers or secret enemies; he finds in me a secure friend, in whose bosom he may always confide his most secret thoughts, and who will always speak the truth. Not one day passes without his holding long conversations with me, writing me long letters, and he has the kindness to consult me on the most important matters. A peculiar circumstance is occurring at this moment which renders my presence of some use to him: this is not the time to speak of my departure. I am also at present engaged in an interesting correspondence with the president of congress. The desire to debase England, to promote the advantage of my own country, and the happiness of humanity, which is strongly interested in the existence of one perfectly free nation, all induces me not to depart at the moment when my absence might prove injurious to the cause I have embraced. The General, also, after a slight success in Jersey, requested me, with the unanimous consent of congress, to accept a division in the army, and to form it according to my own judgment, as well as my feeble resources might permit; I ought not to have replied to such a mark of confidence, by asking what were his commissions for Europe. These are some of the reasons, which I confide to you, with an injunction of secrecy. I will repeat to you many more in person, which I dare not hazard in a letter. This letter will be given you by a good Frenchman, who has come a hundred miles to ask me for my commissions. I wrote to you a few days ago by the celebrated Mr. Adams; he will facilitate your sending me letters. You must have received those I sent you as soon as I heard of your confinement. How very happy that event has rendered me, my dearest love! I delight in speaking of it in all my letters, because I delight in occupying myself with it at every moment of my life! What a pleasure it will give me to embrace my two poor little girls, and make them request their mother to forgive me! You do not believe me so hard hearted, and at the same time so ridiculous, as to suppose that the sex of our new infant can have diminished in any degree my joy at its birth. Our age is not so far advanced, that we may not expect to have another child, without a miracle from Heaven. The next one must absolutely be a boy. However, if it be on account of the name that we are to regret not having a son, I declare that I have formed the project of living long enough to bear it many years myself, before I yield it to any other person. I am indebted to the Marshal de Noailles for the joyful news. I am anxiously expecting a letter from you. I received the other day one from Desplaces, who mentioned having sent a preceding one; but the caprice of the winds, without speaking of English ships, often deranges the order of my correspondence. I was for some days very uneasy about the Viscount de Coigny, who, some of my letters announced, was in a precarious state of health. But that letter from Desplaces, who told me all were well, without mentioning the viscount's name, has quite reassured me. I have also received some other letters which do not speak of his health. When you write, I entreat you to send me many details of all the people whom I love, and even of all my acquaintance. It is very extraordinary that I have not heard of Madame de Fronsac's confinement. Say a thousand tender and respectful things from me to her, as well as to the Countess Auguste. If those ladies do not enter into the reasons which force me to remain here, they must indeed think me a most absurd being, more especially as they have opportunities of seeing clearly what a charming wife I am separated from; but even that may prove to them what powerful motives must guide my conduct. Several general officers have brought their wives to the camp; I envy them—not their wives—but the happiness they enjoy in being able to see them. General Washington has also resolved to send for his wife. As to the English, they have received a reinforcement of three hundred young ladies from New York; and we have captured a vessel filled with chaste officers' wives, who had come to rejoin their husbands: they were in great fear of being kept for the American army.

You will learn by the bearer of this letter that my health is very good, that my wound is healed, and that the change of country has produced no effect upon me. Do you not think that, at my return, we shall be old enough to establish ourselves in our own house, live there happily together, receive our friends, institute a delightful state of freedom, and read foreign newspapers, without feeling any curiosity to judge by ourselves of what may pass in foreign countries? I enjoy thus building, in France, castles of felicity and pleasure: you always share them with me, my dearest love, and when we are once united, nothing shall again separate us, or prevent our experiencing together, and through each other, the joy of mutual affection, and the sweetest and most tranquil happiness. Adieu, my love; I only wish this project could be executed on this present day. Would it not be agreeable to you also? Present my tender respects to Madame d'Ayen: embrace a thousand times the viscountess and my sisters. Adieu, adieu; continue to love me, and forget not for a moment the unhappy exile who thinks incessantly of thee with renewed ardour and tenderness.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

DEAR GENERAL,—I shall make use, in this particular instance, of the liberty you gave me, of telling freely every idea of mine which could strike me as not being useless to a better order of things.

There were two gentlemen, same rank, same duty to perform, and same neglect of it, who have been arrested the same day by me. As I went in the night around the picquets, I found them in fault, and I gave an account of it the next day to your excellency. You answered, that I was much in wrong not to have had them relieved and arrested immediately. I objected that it was then very late for such a changement, and that I did not know which was the rule in this army, but that the gentlemen should be arrested in that very moment. The last answer of your excellency has been, "they are to have a court-martial, and you must give notice of it to the adjutant-general." Therefore, Major Nevil made two letters in order to arrest them, one for having been surprised in his post, and the other, for the same cause, and allowing his sentries to have fires, which he could see in standing before the picquet. I give you my word of honour, that there was not any exaggeration.

Now I see in the orders, the less guilty punished in a manner much too severe indeed, and dismissed from the service, (it is among all the delicate minds deprived of his honour,) when he was only to be severely reprimanded and kept for some time under arrest. But it can be attributed to a very severe discipline.

What must I think of the same court, when they unanimously acquit (it is to say that my accusation is not true) the officer who joins to the same fault, entirely the same this, of allowing his sentries to have fire in his own sight; for in every service being surprised or being found in the middle of his picquet without any challenging or stopping sentry, as Major Nevil, riding before me, found him, is entirely the same thing; and Major Nevil, riding before me, when I was busy to make a sentry pull off his fire, can swear that such was the case with that officer—he can do more than swearing, for he can give his word of honour, and I think that idea honour is the same in every country.

But the préjugés are not the same thing; for giving publicly the best of such a dispute (for here it becomes a trial for both parties) to an officer of the last military stage against one of the first, should be looked on as an affront to the rank, and acquitting a man, whom one other man accuses, looked upon as an affront to the person. It is the same in Poland, for Count de Pulaski was much affronted at the decision of a court-martial entirely acquitting Colonel Molens. However, as I know the English customs, I am nothing else but surprised to see such a partiality in a court-martial.

Your excellency will certainly approve my not arresting any officer for being brought before a court-martial for any neglect of duty; but when they will be robbers or cowards, or when they will assassinate—in all, when they will deserve being cashiered or put to death.

Give me leave to tell your excellency how I am adverse to court-martials. I know it is the English custom, and I believe it is a very bad one. It comes from their love of lawyers, speakers, and of that black apparatus of sentences and judgments; but such is not the American temper, and I think this new army must pick up the good institutions, and leave the bad ones wherever they may be. In France, an officer is arrested by his superior, who gives notice of it to the commanding officer, and then he is punished enough in being deprived of going out of his room in time of peace—of going his duty in time of war. Nobody knows of it but his comrades. When the fault is greater, he is confined in a common room for prisoner officers, and this is much more shameful. Notice of it is immediately given to the general officer who commands there. That goes, too, to the king's minister, who is to be replaced here by the commander-in-chief; in time of war, it goes to the general-in-chief.

Soldiers are punished the same, or next day, by order of proper officers, and the right of punishing is proportionate to their ranks.

But when both officers and soldiers have done something which deserves a more severe punishment; when their honour, or their life, or their liberty for more than a very short time, is concerned, then a court-martial meets, and the sentence is known. How will you let an unhappy soldier be confined several weeks with men who are to be hanged, with spies, with the most horrid sort of people, and in the same time be lost for the duty, when they deserve only some lashes. There is no proportion in the punishments.

How is it possible to carry a gentleman before a parcel of dreadful judges, at the same place where an officer of the same rank has been just now cashiered, for a trifling neglect of his duty; for, I suppose, speaking to his next neighbour, in a manoeuvre for going into a house to speak to a pretty girl, when the army is on its march, and a thousand other things? How is it possible to bring to the certainty of being cashiered or dishonoured, a young lad who has made a considerable fault because he had a light head, a too great vivacity, when that young man would be, perhaps, in some years, the best officer of the army, if he had been friendly reprimanded and arrested for some time, without any dishonour?

The law is always severe; and brings with it an eternal shameful mark. When the judges are partial, as on this occasion, it is much worse, because they have the same inconvenience as law itself.

In court-martial, men are judged by their inferiors. How it is averse to discipline, I don't want to say. The publication exposes men to be despised by the least soldier. When men have been before a court-martial, they should be or acquitted or dismissed. What do you think can be produced by the half condemnation of a general officer? What necessity for all the soldiers, all the officers, to know that General Maxwell has been prevented from doing his duty by his being drunk? Where is the man who will not laugh at him, if he is told by him, you are a drunkard; and is it right to ridiculize a man, respectable by his rank, because he drank two or three gills of rum?

These are my reasons against courts-martial, when there is not some considerable fault to punish. According to my affair, I am sorry in seeing the less guilty being the only one punished. However, I shall send to courts-martial but for such crimes that there will be for the judges no way of indulgence and partiality.

With the most tender respect, I am, &c.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

York, February 3rd, 1778.

I shall never have any cause to reproach myself, my dearest love, with having allowed an opportunity to pass without writing to you, and I have found one by M. du Bouchet, who has the happiness of embarking for France. You must have already received several letters in which I speak of the birth of our new infant, and of the pleasure this joyful event has given me. If I thought that you could imagine the happiness I feel at this event had been at all diminished because our Anastasia is only a daughter, I should be so much displeased with you, that I should but love you a very little for a few moments. O, my love! what an enchanting pleasure it will be for me to embrace you all; what a consolation to be able to weep with my other friends for the dear friend whom I have lost!

I will not give you a long account of the proofs of confidence with which I have been honoured by America. Suffice it to say that Canada is oppressed by the English; the whole of that immense country is in the power of the enemy, who are there in possession of troops, forts, and a fleet. I am to repair thither with the title of General of the Northern Army, at the head of three thousand men, to see if no evil can be done to the English in that country. The idea of rendering the whole of New France free, and of delivering her from a heavy yoke, is too glorious for me to allow myself to dwell upon it. My army would, in that case, increase at an immense rate, and would be increased also by the French. I am undertaking a most difficult task, above all taking into account the few resources I possess. As to those my own merit offers, they are very trifling in comparison to the importance of the place; nor can a man of twenty be fit to command an army, charged with the numerous details to which a general must attend, and having under his direct orders a vast extent of country.

The number of the troops I shall command would appear, I own, trifling in Europe, but it is considerable for America. What gives me most pleasure in all this is, that, under any circumstances, I shall be now sooner able to rejoin you. How delightful it will be to hurry through my affairs with the English there above! I am just setting out for Albany, and from thence to another place, nearly a hundred and fifty leagues from hence, where my labours will commence. I shall go part of the way on sledges; having once reached that spot, I shall have only ice to tread upon.

I do not write to any of my friends by this opportunity. I have an immense deal of business to do; there is an infinite number of military and political affairs to arrange; there are so many things to repair, so many new obstacles to remove, that I should require, in truth, forty years' experience, and very superior talents, to be able to conquer all the difficulties I meet with. I will, at least, do the best I can, and if I only succeed in occupying the enemy's attention in the north, even if I do them no other injury, it would be rendering an important service, and my little army would not be wholly useless. Be so kind as to tell the prince~{1} that his youthful captain, although now a general-in-chief, has not acquired more knowledge than he possessed at Polygone, and that he knows not how, unless chance or his good angel should direct him, to justify the confidence which has been placed in him. A thousand tender respects to Madame d'Ayen. A thousand assurances of my tender affection to the viscountess and all my sisters. Do not forget me to your father, Madame de Tessé, and the Marshal de Noailles. Adieu, adieu, my dearest love; embrace our dear children; I embrace a million of times their beloved mother. When shall I find myself again within her arms?

Endnote:

1. The Prince de Poix, colonel of the regiment de Noailles, in which M. de Lafayette was captain.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Hemingtown, the 9th February, 1778.

Dear General,—I cannot let go my guide without taking this opportunity of writing to your excellency, though I have not yet public business to speak of. I go on very slowly; sometimes drenched by rain, sometimes covered by snow, and not entertaining many handsome thoughts about the projected incursion into Canada; if successes were to be had, it would surprise me in a most agreeable manner by that very reason that I don't expect any shining ones. Lake Champlain is too cold for producing the least bit of laurel, and if I am not starved I shall be as proud as if I had gained three battles.

Mr. Duer had given to me a rendezvous at a tavern, but nobody was to be found there. I fancy that he will be with Mr. Conway sooner than he has told me; they will perhaps conquer Canada before my arrival, and I expect to meet them at the governor's house in Quebec.

Could I believe, for one single instant, that this pompous command of a northern army will let your excellency forget a little us absent friends, then, I would send the project to the place it comes from. But I dare hope that you will remember me sometimes. I wish you, very heartily, the greatest public and private happiness and successes. It is a very melancholy idea for me that I cannot follow your fortunes as near your person as I could wish; but my heart will take, very sincerely, its part of everything which can happen to you, and I am already thinking of the agreeable moment when I may come down to assure your excellency of the most tender affection and highest respect. I have the honour to be, &c.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Albany, the 19th February, 1778.

Dear General,—Why am I so far from you and what business had the board of war to hurry me through the ice and snow without knowing what I should do, neither what they were doing themselves? You have thought, perhaps, that their project would be attended with some difficulty, that some means had been neglected, that I could not obtain all the success and the immensity of laurels which they had promised to me; but I defy your excellency to conceive any idea of what I have seen since I left the place where I was quiet and near my friends, to run myself through all the blunders of madness or treachery (God knows what). Let me begin the journal of my fine and glorious campaign.

According to Lord Stirling's advice, I went by Corich-ferry to Ringo's tavern, where Mr. Duer had given me a rendezvous; but there no Duer was to be found, and they did never hear from him.

From thence I proceeded by the State of New York, and had the pleasure of seeing the friends of America, as warm in their love for the commander-in-chief as his best friend could wish. I spoke to Governor Clinton, and was much satisfied with that gentleman. At length I met Albany, the 17th, though I was not expected before the 25th. General Conway had been here only three days before me, and I must confess I found him very active and looking as if he had good intentions; but we know a great deal upon that subject. His first word has been that the expedition is quite impossible. I was at first very diffident of this report, but have found that he was right. Such is, at least, the idea I can form of this ill-concerted operation within these two days.

General Schuyler, General Lincoln, General Arnold, had written, before my arrival, to General Conway, in the most expressive terms, that, in our present circumstances, there was no possibility to begin, now, an enterprise into Canada. Hay, deputy quarter-master-general; Cuyler, deputy commissary-general; Mearsin, deputy clothier-general, in what they call the northern department, are entirely of the same opinion. Colonel Hazen, who has been appointed to a place which interferes with the three others above mentioned, was the most desirous of going there. The reasons of such an order I think I may attribute to other motives. The same Hazen confesses we are not strong enough to think of the expedition in this moment. As to the troops, they are disgusted, and (if you except some Hazen's Canadians) reluctant, to the utmost degree, to begin a winter incursion in a so cold country. I have consulted everybody, and everybody answers me that it would be madness to undertake this operation.

I have been deceived by the board of war; they have, by the strongest expressions, promised to me one thousand, and (what is more to be depended upon) they have assured to me in writing, two thou-sand and five hundred combatants, at a low estimate. Now, Sir, I do not believe I can find, in all, twelve hundred fit for duty, and most part of those very men are naked, even for a summer's campaign. I was to find General Stark with a large body, and indeed General Gates had told to me, General Stark will have burnt the fleet before your arrival. Well, the first letter I receive in Albany is from General Stark, who wishes to know what number of men, from whence, for what time, for what rendezvous, I desire him to raise. Colonel Biveld, who was to rise too, would have done something had he received money. One asks, what encouragement his people will have, the other has no clothes; not one of them has received a dollar of what was due to them. I have applied to every body, I have begged at every door I could these two days, and I see that I could do something were the expedition to be begun in five weeks. But you know we have not an hour to lose, and indeed it is now rather too late, had we every thing in readiness.

There is a spirit of dissatisfaction prevailing among the soldiers, and even the officers, which is owing to their not being paid for some time since. This department is much indebted, and as near as I can ascertain, for so short a time, I have already discovered near eight hundred thousand dollars due to the continental troops, some militia, the quartermaster's department, &c. &c. &c. It was with four hundred thousand dollars, only the half of which is arrived to day, that I was to undertake the operation, and satisfy the men under my commands. I send to congress the account of those debts. Some clothes, by Colonel Hazen's activity, are arrived from Boston, but not enough by far, and the greatest part is cut off.

We have had intelligence from a deserter, who makes the enemy stronger than I thought. There is no such thing as straw on board the vessels to burn them. I have sent to congress a full account of the matter; I hope it will open their eyes. What they will resolve upon I do not know, but I think I must wait here for their answer. I have inclosed to the president, copies of the most important letters I had received. It would be tedious for your excellency, were I to undertake the minutest detail of everything; it will be sufficient to say that the want of men, clothes, money, and the want of time, deprives me of all hopes as to this excursion. If it may begin again in the month of June, by the east, I cannot venture to assure; but for the present moment such is the idea I conceive of the famous incursion, as far as I may be informed, in a so short time.

Your excellency may judge that I am very distressed by this disappointment. My being appointed to the command of the expedition is known through the continent, it will be soon known in Europe, as I have been desired, by members of congress, to write to my friends; my being at the head of an army, people will be in great expectations, and what shall I answer?

I am afraid it will reflect on my reputation, and I shall be laughed at. My fears upon that subject are so strong, that I would choose to become again only a volunteer, unless congress offers the means of mending this ugly business by some glorious operation; but I am very far from giving to them the least notice upon that matter. General Arnold seems very fond of a diversion against New York, and he is too sick to take the field before four or five months. I should be happy if something was proposed to me in that way, but I will never ask, nor even seem desirous, of anything directly from congress; for you, dear general, I know very well, that you will do everything to procure me the only thing I am ambitious of—glory.

I think your excellency will approve of my staying here till further orders, and of my taking the liberty of sending my despatches to congress by a very quick occasion, without going through the hands of my general; but I was desirous to acquaint them early of my disagreeable and ridiculous situation.

With the greatest affection and respect, I have the honour to be, &c.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON

(ORIGINAL)

The 23rd February, 1778.

DEAR GENERAL,—I have an opportunity of writing to your excellency which I will not miss by any means, even should I be afraid of becoming tedious and troublesome; but if they have sent me far from you, I don't know for what purpose, at least I must make some little use of my pen, to prevent all communication from being cut off between your excellency and myself. I have written lately to you my distressing, ridiculous, foolish, and, indeed, nameless situation. I am sent, with a great noise, at the head of an army for doing great things; the whole continent, France and Europe herself, and what is the worse, the British army, are in great expectations. How far they will be deceived, how far we shall be ridiculed, you may judge by the candid account you have got of the state of our affairs.

There are things, I dare say, in which I am deceived—a certain colonel is not here for nothing: one other gentleman became very popular before I went to this place; Arnold himself is very fond of him. Every part on which I turn to look I am sure a cloud is drawn before my eyes; however, there are points I cannot be deceived upon. The want of money, the dissatisfaction among the soldiers, the disinclination of every one (except the Canadians, who mean to stay at home) for this expedition, are as conspicuous as possible; however, I am sure I will become very ridiculous, and laughed at. My expedition will be as famous as the secret expedition against Rhode Island. I confess, my dear general, that I find myself of very quick feelings whenever my reputation and glory are concerned in anything. It is very hard indeed that such a part of my happiness, without which I cannot live, should depend upon schemes which I never knew of but when there was no time to put them into execution. I assure you, my most dear and respected friend, that I am more unhappy than I ever was.

My desire of doing something was such, that I have thought of doing it by surprise with a detachment, but it seems to me rash and quite impossible. I should be very happy if you were here to give me some advice; but I have nobody to consult with. They have sent to me more than twenty French officers; I do not know what to do with them; I beg you will acquaint me the line of conduct you advise me to follow on every point. I am at a loss how to act, and indeed I do not know what I am here for myself. However, as being the eldest officer, (after General Arnold has desired me to take the command,) I think it is my duty to mind the business of this part of America as well as I can. General Gates holds yet the title and power of commander-in-chief of the Northern department; but, as two hundred thousand dollars are arrived, I have taken upon myself to pay the most necessary part of the debts we are involved in. I am about sending provisions to Fort Schuyller: I will go to see the fort. I will try to get some clothes for the troops, to buy some articles for the next campaign. I have directed some money to be borrowed upon my credit to satisfy the troops, who are much discontented. In all, I endeavour to do for the best, though I have no particular authority or instructions; and I will come as near as I can to General Gates's intentions, but I want much to get an answer to my letters.

I fancy (between us) that the actual scheme is to have me out of this part of the continent, and General Conway in chief, under the immediate direction of General Gates. How they will bring it up I do not know, but you may be sure something of that kind will appear. You are nearer than myself, and every honest man in congress is your friend; therefore you may foresee and prevent, if possible, the evil a hundred times better than I can: I would only give that idea to your excellency.

After having written in Europe (by the desire of the members of congress) so many fine things about my commanding an army, I shall be ashamed if nothing can be done by me in that way. I am told General Putnam is recalled; but your excellency knows better than I do what would be convenient, therefore I don't want to mind these things myself.

Will you be so good as to present my respects to your lady. With the most tender affection and highest respect, I have the honour to be,

LAFAYETTE.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

Head Quarters, 10th March, 1778.

MY DEAR MARQUIS,—I have had the pleasure of receiving your two favours of the 19th and 23rd of February, and hasten to dispel those fears respecting your reputation, which are excited only by an uncommon degree of sensibility. You seem to apprehend that censure, proportioned to the disappointed expectations of the world, will fall on you in consequence of the failure of the Canadian expedition. But, in the first place, it will be no disadvantage to you to have it known in Europe that you had received so manifest a proof of the good opinion and confidence of congress as an important detached command; and I am persuaded that every one will applaud your prudence in renouncing a project, in pursuing which you would vainly have attempted physical impossibilities; indeed, unless you can be chargeable with the invariable effects of natural causes, and be arraigned for not suspending the course of the seasons, to accommodate your march over the lake, the most prompt to slander can have nothing to found blame upon.

However sensibly your ardour for glory may make you feel this disappointment, you may be assured that your character stands as fair as ever it did, and that no new enterprise is necessary to wipe off this imaginary stain. The expedition which you hint at I think unadvisable in our present circumstances. Anything in the way of a formal attack, which would necessarily be announced to the enemy by preparatory measures, would not be likely to succeed. If a stroke is meditated in that quarter, it must be effected by troops stationed at a proper distance for availing themselves of the first favourable opportunity offered by the enemy, and success would principally depend upon the suddenness of the attempt. This, therefore, must rather be the effect of time and chance than premeditation. You undoubtedly have determined judiciously in waiting the further orders of congress. Whether they allow me the pleasure of seeing you shortly, or destine you to a longer absence, you may assure yourself of the sincere good wishes of,

Dear Sir, &c.

P. S. Your directing payment of such debts as appear to be most pressing is certainly right. There is not money enough to answer every demand; and I wish your supplies of clothing had been better. Your ordering a large supply of provisions into Fort Schuyler was a very judicious measure, and I thank you for it.

TO BARON DE STEUBEN.

(ORIGINAL—A FRAGMENT.)

Albany, March 12th.

Permit me to express my satisfaction at your having seen General Washington. No enemies to that great man can be found except among the enemies to his country; nor is it possible for any man of a noble spirit to refrain from loving the excellent qualities of his heart. I think I know him as well as any person, and such is the idea which I have formed of him; his honesty, his frankness, his sensibility, his virtue, to the full extent in which this word can be understood, are above all praise. It is not for me to judge of his military talents; but, according to my imperfect knowledge of these matters, his advice in council has always appeared to me the best, although his modesty prevents him sometimes from sustaining it; and his predictions have generally been fulfilled. I am the more happy in giving you this opinion of my friend with all the sincerity which I feel, because some persons may perhaps attempt to deceive you on this point.

FRAGMENT OF A LETTER TO THE PRESIDENT OF CONGRESS.

(ORIGINAL.)

Albany, 20th March, 1778.

... His Excellency General Washington will, I believe, mention to congress that, at the request of the commissioners of Indian affairs, I send Colonel Gouvion, and have given proper directions for the building of a small fort, which they and myself have thought very necessary to be granted to the Oneydas. The love of the French blood, mixed with the love of some French Louis d'or, have engaged those Indians to promise they would come with me.~{1}

As I am very certain the Congress of the United States will not propose anything to me but consistent with my feelings and the sentiment I flatter myself to have obtained from them, I can assure them, by advance, that any post they will give, any disposition they will make, with such manners, will be cheerfully received and complied to by me with acknowledgment. However, I will beg leave to say, that any command, whatever honourable it may be, where I would not be so near the danger or occasions of doing something, I shall always look upon as not suited to me.

I never mentioned to congress a long letter I have written, four months ago, to France, about a project for the East Indies, to which I expect the answer. Was I to succeed in my expectation, it would bring, soon, that so much desired French war, in spite of some peaceful men, and be of some use to the noble cause of freedom, without bringing the continent in any expense.

With the greatest respect, I have the honour to be, &c.

Endnote:

1. M. de Lafayette, during this journey, some curious relations with the Indian, in a letter of the 27th of February, to General Washington, which, being void of interest in other respects, has been suppressed. It appears that he was solicited by General Schuyler to be present at a numerous meeting of Indians, convoked for a treaty. The traces of those communications will be found further.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Albany, 25th March, 1778.

Dear General,—How happy I have been in receiving your excellency's favour of the tenth present; I hope you will be convinced by the knowledge of my tender affection for you. I am very sensible of that goodness which tries to dissipate my fears about that ridiculous Canadian expedition. At the present time we know which was the aim of the honourable board, and for which project three or four men have rushed the country into a great expense, and risked the reputation of our arms, and the life of many hundred men, had the general, your deceived friend, been as rash and foolish as they seem to have expected. O, American freedom, what shall become of you if you are in such hands?

I have received a letter from the board and a resolve of congress,~{1} by which you are directed to recall me and the Baron de Kalb, whose presence is deemed absolutely necessary to your army. I believe this of General Conway is absolutely necessary to Albany, and he has received orders to stay there, which I have no objection to, as nothing, perhaps, will be done in this quarter but some disputes of Indians and tories. However, you know I have wrote to congress, and as soon as their leave will come, I shall let Conway have the command of these few regiments, and I shall immediately join my respectable friend; but till I have received instructions for leaving that place from yourself, I shall stay, as powerful commander-in-chief, as if congress had never resolved my presence absolutely necessary for the great army.

Since your last letter, I have given up the idea of New York, and my only desire is to join you. The only favour I have asked of your commissioners in France, has been, not to be under any orders but those of General Washington. I seem to have had an anticipation of our future friendship, and what I have done out of esteem and respect for your excellency's name and reputation, I should do now out of mere love for General Washington himself. I am glad to hear General Greene is quarter-master-general; it is very interesting to have there an honest man and a friend of yours. But I feel the greatest pain not to hear anything about reinforcements. What can you do with a handful of men,—and my poor division, whom I was so desirous of instructing, clothing, managing myself in the winter, whom, I was told, I should find six thousand strong at the opening of the campaign? Don't your excellency think that I could recruit a little in General Greene's division now that he is quarter-master-general? By that promotion I find myself very proud to be the third officer of your army.

With the utmost respect and affection, I have the honour to be, &c.

Endnote:

1. That congress entertain a high sense of his prudence, activity, and zeal, and that they are fully persuaded nothing has or would have been wanting on his part, or on the part of his officers who accompanied him, to give the expedition the utmost possible effect.—(Secret Journal, March 2.)

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Valley Forge Camp, in Pennsylvania, April 14th, 1778.

If thirty opportunities were to present themselves at once, my dearest love, you may rest assured that I would write thirty letters; and that, if you do not receive any news from me, I have nothing, at least, to reproach myself with. This letter will be accompanied by others, saying nearly the same things, and having nearly the same date; but accidents are unfortunately very common, and by this means, some letters may reach you safely. Respecting your own, my love, I prefer accusing fate, the waves, Lord Howe, and the devil, to suspecting you for one moment of negligence. I am convinced that you will not allow a single opportunity to escape of writing to me; but I should feel, if possible, still more so, if I could only hope that you knew the degree of happiness your letters give me. I love you more ardently than ever, and repeated assurances of your affection are absolutely necessary to my repose, and to that species of felicity which I can enjoy whilst separated from all I love most fondly—if, however, the word felicity can be applied to my melancholy, exiled state. Endeavour to afford me some consolation, and neglect no opportunity of writing to me. Millions of ages have elapsed since I have received a line from any one. This complete ignorance of the situation of all those who are most dear to me, is, indeed, a dreadful calamity: I have, however, some reason to believe that it cannot last for ever; the scene will soon become interesting; France must take some decisive part, and vessels will then arrive with letters. I can give you no news at present; we are all in a state of repose, and are waiting with impatience for the opening campaign to awaken us from our stupor. In my other letters, I mentioned my journey to Albany, and my visit to an assembly of savages. I am expecting some good Iroquois who have promised to rejoin me here. Either after, or before receiving this letter, Madame d'Ayen, the viscountess, and my grandfather,~{1} will receive letters by an opportunity which, I believe, is more secure than the one I am now writing by; I have written a longer letter to you also at the same time. I write an immense number of epistles; God grant that they may arrive! Present my affectionate respects to your mother, and my grandfather; embrace a thousand times the viscountess and my sisters; recall me to the remembrance of the Countess Auguste, Madame de Fronsac, and all your and my friends. Embrace a thousand times our dearest family. When shall I be able to assure you, my dearest life, that I love you better than any other person in the world, and that I shall love you as long as I live? Adieu; I only look upon this letter as a note.

Present my respects to the Marshal de Noailles, and tell him that I have sent him some trees from Albany; but I will send him others also at various times, that I may feel certain of his receiving a few of them. When you present my compliments to my acquaintance, do not forget the Chevalier de Chastellux.

Endnote:

1. The Count de la Riviere, (Charles-Ives-Thibault), lieutenant-captain of the black musketeers, was grandfather of the mother of M. de Lafayette of whom he had been appointed guardian.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Germantown, April 28th, 1778.

I write to you, my dearest love, by a very strange opportunity, since it is an English officer who has taken charge of my letter. But your wonder will cease, when you hear that that officer is my friend Fitz-Patrick.~{1} He is returning to England, and I could not resist my wish of embracing him before his departure. It was the first time we had met unarmed in America, and that manner of meeting suits us both much better than the hostile appearance which we had, until now, thought proper to affect. It is long since I have received any news from France, and I am very impatiently expecting letters. Write frequently, my love, I need the consolation of hearing often from you during this painful separation. There is no important news; neither would it be proper for Mr. Fitz-Patrick to carry political news from a hand at present engaged in fighting with his army. I am in perfect health; my wound is completely healed, but my heart is far from being tranquil, for I am far from all those I love; and my anxiety about them, as well as my impatience to behold them, increase every hour. Say a thousand things for me to all my friends; present my respects to Madame d'Ayen, and to the Marshal de Noailles. Embrace, above all, our children, my dearest love, and be convinced yourself that every moment that separates me from you and them appears to me an age. Adieu; I must quit you, for the hour is far advanced, and to-morrow will not be an idle day. Adieu, Adieu!

Endnote:

1. M. de Lafayette had become very intimate with him in England: he is the same General Fitz-Patrick, who made two famous motions in the House of Commons; the one March 17th, 1794, for the prisoners of Magdebourg, and the other, December 16th, 1796, for the prisoners of Olmutz.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Valley Forge Camp, the 19th May, 1778.

MY DEAR GENERAL,—Agreeable to your excellency's orders, I have taken the oath of the gentlemen officers in General Woodford's brigade, and their certificates have been sent to the adjutant-general's office. Give me leave, now, to present you with some observations delivered to me by many officers in that brigade, who desire me to submit them to your perusal. I know, sir, (besides I am not of their opinion in the fact itself) that I should not accept for you the objections those gentlemen could have had, as a body, to any order from congress; but I confess the desire of being agreeable to them, of giving them any mark of friendship and affection which is in my power and acknowledging the kind sentiments they honour me with, have been my first and dearest considerations. Besides that, be pleased to consider that they began by obeying orders, and want only to let their beloved general know which were the reasons of their being rather reluctant (as far as reluctance may comply with their duty and honour) to an oath, the meaning and spirit of which was, I believe, misunderstood by them. I may add, sir, with a perfect conviction, that there is not one among them but would be thrice happy were occasions offered to them of distinguishing yet, by new exertions, their love for their country, their zeal for their duty as officers, their consideration for the civil superior power, and their love for your excellency.

With the greatest respect and most tender affection, I have the honour to be, &c.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

Camp, 17th May, 1778.

DEAR SIR,—I received yesterday your favour of the 15th instant, enclosing a paper subscribed by sundry officers of General Woodford's brigade, setting forth the reasons for not taking the oath of abjuration, allegiance, and office; and I thank you much for the cautious delicacy used in communicating the matter to me. As every oath should be a free act of the mind, founded on the conviction of its propriety, I would not wish, in any instance, that there should be the least degree of compulsion exercised; nor to interpose my opinion, in order to induce any to make it of whom it is required. The gentlemen, therefore, who signed the paper, will use their own discretion in the matter, and swear, or not swear, as their conscience and feelings dictate.

At the same time, I cannot but consider it as a circumstance of some singularity, that the scruples against the oath should be peculiar to the officers of one brigade, and so very extensive. The oath in itself is not new. It is substantially the same with that required in all governments, and, therefore, does not imply any indignity; and it is perfectly consistent with the professions, actions, and implied engagements of every officer. The objection founded on the supposed unsettled rank of the officers, is of no validity, rank being only mentioned as a further designation of the party swearing; nor can it be seriously thought that the oath is either intended to prevent, or can prevent, their being promoted, or their resignation.

The fourth objection, stated by the gentlemen, serves as a key to their scruples; and I would willingly persuade myself, that their own reflections will point out to them the impropriety of the whole proceeding, and not suffer them to be betrayed in future into a similar conduct. I have a regard for them all, and cannot but regret that they were ever engaged in the measure. I am certain they will regret it themselves;—sure I am that they ought. I am, my dear marquis, your affectionate friend and servant.

TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL—INSTRUCTION.)~{1}

SIR,—The detachment under your command, with which you will immediately march towards the enemy's lines, is designed to answer the following purposes; namely, to be a security to this camp, and a cover to the country, between the Delaware and the Schuylkill, to interrupt the communication with Philadelphia, to obstruct the incursions of the enemy's parties, and to obtain intelligence of their motions and designs. This last is a matter of very interesting moment, and ought to claim your particular attention. You will endeavour to procure trusty and intelligent spies, who will advise you faithfully of whatever may be passing in the city, and you will, without delay, communicate to me every piece of material information you obtain. A variety of concurring accounts make it probable that the enemy are preparing to evacuate Philadelphia; this is a point of the utmost importance to ascertain, and, if possible, the place of their future destination. Should you be able to gain certain intelligence of the time of their intended embarkation, so that you may be able to take advantage of it, and fall upon the rear of the enemy in the act of withdrawing, it will be a very desirable event; but this will be a matter of no small difficulty, and will require the greatest caution and prudence in the execution. Any deception or precipitation may be attended with the most disastrous consequences. You will remember that your detachment is a very valuable one, and that any accident happening to it would be a severe blow, to this army; you will, therefore, use every possible precaution for its security, and to guard against a surprise. No attempt should be made, nor anything risked, without the greatest prospect of success, and with every reasonable advantage on your side. I shall not point out any precise position to you, but shall leave it to your discretion to take such posts occasionally, as shall appear to you best adapted to the purposes of your detachment. In general, I would observe, that a stationary post is unadvisable, as it gives the enemy an opportunity of knowing your situation, and concerting plans successfully against you. In case of any offensive movement against this army, you will keep yourself in such a state as to have an easy communication with it, and, at the same time, harass the enemy's advance.

Our parties of horse and foot, between the rivers, are to be under your command, and to form part of your detachment. As great complaints have been made of the disorderly conduct of the parties which have been sent towards the enemy's lines, it is expected that you will be very attentive in preventing abuses of the like nature, and will inquire how far complaints already made are founded in justice.

Given under my hand, at head quarters, this 18th May, 1778.

Endnote:

1. This instruction has been inserted as the one which M. de Lafayette received to repair, as a detached body, betwixt the Delaware and Schuylkill. It was after this movement that he made the retreat of Barren Hill, which was praised by General Washington. (See the Memoirs, in Mr. Spark's collection, the letter Of Washington, May 24th, 1778.)

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Valley Forge Camp, June 16, 1778.

Chance has furnished me, my dearest love, with a very uncertain opportunity of writing to you, but, such as it is, I shall take advantage of it, for I cannot resist the wish of saying a few words to you. You must have received many letters from me lately, if my writing unceasingly, at least, may justify this hope. Several vessels have sailed, all laden with my letters. My expressions of heartfelt grief must even have added to your distress. What a dreadful thing is absence! I never experienced before all the horrors of separation. My own deep sorrow is aggravated by the feeling that I am not able to share and sympathize in your anguish. The length of time that elapsed before I heard of this event had also increased my misery. Consider, my love, how dreadful it must be to weep for what I have lost, and tremble for what remains. The distance between Europe and America appears to me more enormous than ever. The loss of our poor child is almost constantly in my thoughts: this sad news followed immediately that of the treaty; and whilst my heart was torn by grief, I was obliged to receive and take part in expressions of public joy. I learnt, at the same time, the loss of our little Adrien, for I always considered that child as my own, and I regretted him as I should have done a son. I have written twice to the viscount and viscountess, to express to them my deep regret, and I hope my letters will reach them safely. I am writing only to you at present, because I neither know when the vessel sails, nor when she will arrive, and I am told that a packet will soon set out which will probably reach Europe first.

I received letters from M. de Cambrai and M. Carmichael. The first one will be employed, I hope, in an advantageous and agreeable manner; the second, whom I am expecting with great impatience, has not yet arrived at the army: how delighted I shall be to see him, and talk to him about you!—he will come to the camp as soon as possible. We are expecting every day news from Europe; they will be deeply interesting, especially to me, who offer up such earnest prayers for the success and glory of my country. The King of Prussia, it is said, has entered into Bohemia, and has forgotten to declare war. If a conflict were to take place between France and England, I should prefer our being left completely to ourselves, and that the rest of Europe should content herself with looking on; we should, in that case, have a glorious war, and our successes would be of a kind to please and gratify the nation.

If the unfortunate news had reached me sooner, I should have set out immediately to rejoin you; but the account of the treaty, which we received the first of May, prevented my leaving this country. The opening campaign does not allow me to retire. I have always been perfectly convinced that by serving the cause of humanity, and that of America, I serve also the interest of France. Another motive for remaining longer is, that the commissioners have arrived, and that I am well pleased to be within reach of the negotiations. To be useful in any way to my country will always be agreeable to me. I do not understand why a minister plenipotentiary, or something of that kind, has not been already sent to America; I am most anxious to see one, provided always it may not be myself, for I am but little disposed to quit the military career to enter into the diplomatic corps.

There is no news here; the only topic of conversation is the news from Europe, and to that many idle tales are always prefixed: there has been little action on either side; the only important affair was the one which fell to my share the 20th of last month, and there was not any blood shed even there.

General Washington had entrusted me to conduct a detachment of two thousand four hundred chosen men to the vicinity of Philadelphia. It would be too long to explain to you the cause, but it will suffice to tell you, that, in spite of all my precautions, I could not prevent the hostile army from making a nocturnal march, and I found myself the next morning with part of the army in front, and seven thousand men in my rear. These gentlemen were so obliging as to take measures for sending to New York those who should not be killed; but they were so kind, also, as to permit us to retire quietly, without doing us any injury. We had about six or seven killed or wounded, and they twenty-five or thirty, which did not make them amends for a march, in which one part of the army had been obliged to make forty miles.

Some days afterwards, our situation having altered, I returned to the camp, and no events of importance have occurred since. We are expecting the evacuation of Philadelphia, which must, we fancy, soon take place. I have been told that on the 10th of April they were thinking of negotiating rather than of fighting, and that England was becoming each day more humble.

If this letter ever reaches you, my dearest love, present my respects to the Duke d'Ayen, the Marshal de Noailles, and Madame de Tessé, to whom I have written by every vessel, although she accuses me of having neglected her, which my heart is incapable of doing. I have also written to Madame d'Ayen by the two last ships, and by several previous ones. Embrace a thousand times the dear viscountess, and tell her how well I love her. A thousand tender regards to my sisters; a thousand affectionate ones to the viscount, M. de Poix, to Coigny,~{1} Segur, his brother, Etienne,~{2} and all my other friends. Embrace, a million of times, our little Anastasia;—alas! she alone remains to us! I feel that she has engrossed the affection that was once divided between my two children: take great care of her. Adieu; I know not when this may reach you, and I even doubt its ever reaching you.

Endnotes:

1. Probably the Marquis de Coigny.

2. The Count Etienne de Durfort, now peer of France.

TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL—INSTRUCTIONS.)

Sir,—You are immediately to proceed with the detachment commanded by General Poor, and form a junction, as expeditiously as possible, with that under the command of General Scott. You are to use the most effectual means for gaining the enemy's left flank and rear, and giving them every degree of annoyance. All continental parties that are already on the lines, will be under your command, and you will take such measures, in concert with General Dickinson, as will cause the enemy the greatest impediment and loss in their march. For these purposes you will attack them, as occasion may require, by detachment, and if a proper opening could be given, by operating against them with the whole force of your command. You will naturally take such precautions as will secure you against surprise, and maintain your communications with this army.

Given at Kingston, this 25th day of June, 1778.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON

(ORIGINAL.)

Ice Town, 26th June, 1778, at a quarter after seven.

Dear General,—I hope you have received my letter from Cranberry, where I acquaint you that I am going to Ice Town, though we are short of provisions. When I got there, I was sorry to hear that Mr. Hamilton, who had been riding all the night, had not been able to find anybody who could give him certain intelligence; but by a party who came back, I hear the enemy are in motion, and their rear about one mile off the place they had occupied last night, which is seven or eight miles from here. I immediately put Generals Maxwell and Wayne's brigades in motion, and I will fall lower down, with General Scott's, with Jackson's regiment, and some militia. I should be very happy if we could attack them before they halt, for I have no notion of taking one other moment but this of the march. If I cannot overtake them, we could lay at some distance, and attack tomorrow morning, provided they don't escape in the night, which I much fear, as our intelligences are not the best ones. I have sent some parties out, and I will get some more light by them.

I fancy your excellency will move down with the army, and if we are at a convenient distance from you, I have nothing to fear in striking a blow if opportunity is offered. I believe that, in our present strength, provided they do not escape, we may do something.

General Forman says that, on account of the nature of the country, it is impossible for me to be turned by the right or left, but that I shall not quite depend upon.

An officer just from the lines confirms the account of the enemy moving. An intelligence from General Dickinson says that they hear a very heavy fire in the front of the enemy's column. I apprehend it is Morgan, who had not received my letter, but it will have the good effect of stopping them, and if we attack, he may begin again.

Sir, I want to repeat you in writing what I have told to you, which is, that if you believe it, or if it is believed necessary or useful to the good of the service and the honour of General Lee, to send him down with a couple of thousand men, or any greater force; I will cheerfully obey and serve him, not only out of duty, but out of what I owe to that gentleman's character.

I hope to receive, soon, your orders as to what I am to do this day or to-morrow, to know where you are and what you intend, and would be very happy to furnish you with the opportunity of completing some little advantage of ours.

LAFAYETTE.

The road I understand the enemy are moving by, is the straight road to Monmouth.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

Cranberry, 26th June, 1778.

My Dear Marquis,—General Lee's uneasiness, on accouut of yesterday's transaction, rather increasing than abating, and your politeness in wishing to ease him of it, have induced me to detach him from this army with a part of it, to reinforce, or at least cover, the several detachments at present under your command. At the same time, that I felt for General Lee's distress of mind, I have had an eye to your wishes and the delicacy of your situation; and have, therefore, obtained a promise from him, that when he gives you notice of his approach and command, he will request you to prosecute any plan you may have already concerted for the purpose of attacking, or otherwise annoying the enemy; this is the only expedient I could think of to answer the views of both. General Lee seems satisfied with the measure, and I wish it may prove agreeable to you, as I am, with the warmest wishes for your honour and glory, and with the sincerest esteem and affection, yours, &c.~{1}

Endnote:

1. The combination offered by M. de Lafayette, and desired by General Washington, did not prove successful. In spite of the happy issue of the battle of Monmouth, the results were not such as might have been expected, on account of the conduct of General Lee, who was summoned before a court martial, and condemned to be suspended for one year. (See on this subject the Memoirs of the Life of Washington, by Marshall, and the Appendix No. 8, of the 5th vol. of the Letters of Washington.)

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.~{1}

(ORIGINAL.)

White Plains, 22nd July, 1778.

Sir,—You are to have the immediate command of that detachment from this army, which consists of Glover's and Varnum's brigades, and the detachment under the command of Colonel Henry Jackson. You are to march them, with all convenient expedition, and by the best routes, to Providence, in the state of Rhode Island. When there, you are to subject yourself to the orders of Major-General Sullivan, who will have the command of the expedition against Newport, and the British and other troops in their pay, on that and the Islands adjacent.

If, on your march, you should receive certain intelligence of the evacuation of Rhode Island, by the enemy, you are immediately to counter march for this place, giving me the earliest advice thereof. Having the most perfect reliance on your activity and zeal, and wishing you all the success, honour, and glory, that your heart can wish, I am, with the most perfect regard, yours, &c.

Endnote:

1. Order for the expedition of Rhode Island.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE

(ORIGINAL.)

Head Quarters, White Plains, 27th July, 1778.

DEAR MARQUIS,—This will be delivered to you by Major-General Greene, whose thorough knowledge of Rhode Island, of which he is a native, and the influence he will have with the people, put it in his power to be particularly useful in the expedition against that place, as well in providing necessaries for carrying it on, as in assisting to form and execute a plan of operations proper for the occasion. The honour and interest of the common cause are so deeply concerned in the success of this enterprise, that it appears to me of the greatest importance to omit no step which may conduce to it; and General Greene, on several accounts, will be able to render very essential service.

These considerations have determined me to send him on the expedition, in which, as he could not with propriety act, nor be equally useful merely in his official capacity as quartermaster-general, I have concluded to give him a command in the troops to be employed in the descent. I have, therefore, directed General Sullivan to throw all the American troops, both continental, state, and militia, into two divisions, making an equal distribution of each, to be under the immediate command of General Greene and yourself. The continental troops being divided in this manner, with the militia, will serve to give them confidence, and probably make them act better than they would alone. Though this arrangement will diminish the number of continental troops under you, yet this diminution will be more than compensated by the addition of militia; and I persuade myself your command will not be less agreeable, or less honourable, from this change in the disposition. I am, with great esteem and affection, dear marquis, your most obedient servant.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Providence, 6th August, 1778.

DEAR GENERAL,—I have received your excellency's favour 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 the half of my detachment, though I had a great dependence upon them, as you find it convenient to the good of the service. Any thing, my dear General, you will order, or even wish, shall always be infinitely agreeable to me, and I will always feel happy in doing any thing 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.

You will receive, by General Sullivan, an account of his dispositions, preparations, &c.; I, therefore, have nothing to add, but that I have been on board of the Admiral~{1} the day before yesterday. I saw among the fleet an ardour and a desire of doing something, which would soon turn into impatience, if we don't give them a speedy occasion of fighting. The officers cannot contain their soldiers and sailors, who are complaining that they have been these four months running after the British, without getting at them; but I hope they will be soon satisfied.

The Count d'Estaing was very glad of my arrival, as he could open freely his mind to me. He expressed the greatest anxiety on account of his wants of every kind, provisions, water, &c.; he hopes the taking of Rhode Island will enable him to get some of the two above mentioned articles. The admiral wants me to join the French troops to these I command, as soon as possible. I confess I feel very happy to think of my co-operating with them, and, had I contrived in my mind an agreeable dream, I could not have wished a more pleasing event than my joining my countrymen with my brothers of America, under my command, and the same standards. When I left Europe, I was very far from hoping such an agreeable turn of our business in the American glorious revolution.

Though I have no account, neither observations, to give to your excellency, as I am here a man of war of the third rate, I will, after the expedition, scribble some lines to you, and join to the account of General Sullivan, the assurance that I have all my limbs, and that I am, with the most tender affection, and entire confidence, yours, with high respect.

Endnote:

1. Admiral d'Estaing. It was the 8th July that the French fleet appeared at the entrance of the Delaware. It was at this period stationed before Newport, below the passage, betwixt Rhode Island and Long Island.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

White Plains, 10th August, 1778.

My Dear Marquis,—Your favour of the 6th instant, which came to my hands yesterday, afforded a fresh proof of the noble principles on which you act, and has a just claim to my sincere and hearty thanks. The common cause, of which you have been a zealous supporter, would, I knew, be benefitted by General Greene's presence at Rhode Island, as he is a native of that state, has an interest with the people, and a thorough knowledge of the country, and, therefore, I accepted his proffered services; but I was a little uneasy, lest you should conceive that it was intended to lessen your command. General Greene did not incline to act in a detached part of the army, merely as quartermaster-general; nor was it to be expected. It became necessary, therefore, to give him a detached command, and consequently to divide the continental troops. Your cheerful acquiescence in the measure, after being appointed to the command of the brigades which marched from this army, obviated every difficulty, and gave me singular pleasure.

I am very happy to find that the standards of France and America are likely to be united under your command, at Rhode Island. I am persuaded, that the supporters of each will be emulous to acquire honour, and promote your glory upon this occasion. The courier to Count d'Estaing is waiting. I have only time, therefore, to assure you, that, with most perfect esteem, and exalted regard, I have the honour to be, my dear marquis, your obedient and affectionate servant.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.~{1}

(ORIGINAL.)

Camp before Newport, 25th August, 1778.

MY DEAR GENERAL,—I had expected in answering your first letter that something interesting would have happened that I might communicate to your excellency. Every day was going to terminate our uncertainties; nay, every day was going to bring the hope of a success which I did promise myself to acquaint you of. Such was the reason of my deferring what my duty and inclination did urge me to do much sooner. I am now indebted for two favours of yours, which I beg leave to offer here my thanks for. The first letter reached me in the time we expected to hear again from the French fleet; the second I have just received. My reason for not writing the same day the French fleet went to Boston was, that I did not choose to trouble your friendship with the sentiments of an afflicted, injured heart, and injured by that very people I came from so far to love and support. Don't be surprised, my dear general; the generosity of your honest mind would be offended at the shocking sight I have under my eyes.

So far am I from a critical disposition that I will not give you the journal of our operations, neither of several instances during our staying here, which, however, might occupy some room in this letter. I will not even say to you, how contracted was the French fleet when they wanted to come in at their arrival; which, according to the report of the advertors, would have had the greatest effect. How surprised was the admiral, when, after a formal and agreed convention, one hour after the American general had given a new written assurance, our troops made the landing a day before it was expected. How mortified the French officers were to find out that there was not a gun left in these very forts to whose protection they were recommended. All these things, and many others, I would not take notice of, if they were not at this moment the supposed ground upon which, it is said, that the Count d'Estaing is gone on to Boston. Believe me, my dear sir, upon my honour, the admirals, though a little astonished by some instances of conduct on our part, did consider them in the same light as you and myself would have done, and if he is gone off, it is because he thought himself obliged by necessity.

Let us consider, my dear general, the motions of that fleet since it was proposed by the Count d'Estaing himself, and granted by the king in behalf of the United States. I will not go so far up as to remember other instances of the affection the French nation have for the Americans. The news of that fleet have occasioned the evacuation of Philadelphia. Its arrival has opened all the harbours, secured all the coasts, obliged the British navy to be together. Six of those frigates, two of them I have seen, sufficient for terrifying all the trading people of the two Carolinas, are taken or burnt. The Count d'Estaing went to offer battle, and act as a check to the British navy for a long time. At New York, it was agreed he should go to Rhode Island, and there he went. They prevented him from going in at first; afterwards, he was desired to come in, and so he did. The same day we landed without his knowledge; an English fleet appears in sight. His being divided into three parts by our directions, for, though he is a lieutenant-general, he never availed himself of that title, made him uneasy about his situation. But finding the next morning that the wind was northerly, being also convinced that it was his duty to prevent any reinforcement at Newport, he goes out under the hottest fire of the British land batteries, he puts the British navy to flight, and pursues them, and they were all in his hands when that horrid storm arrives to ruin all our hopes. Both fleets are divided, scattered; the Caesar, a 74 gun ship, is lost; the Marseillais, of the same size, loses her masts, and after that accident is obliged to send back an enemy's ship of 64; the Languedoç having lost her masts, unable to be governed and make any motions, separated from the others, is attacked by a ship of the line against which she could only bring six guns.

When the storm was over, they met again in a shattered condition, and the Caesar was not to be found. All the captains represented to their general that, after a so long navigation, in such a want of victuals, water, &c., which they had not been yet supplied with, after the intelligence given by General Sullivan that there was a British fleet coming, they should go to Boston; but the Count d'Estaing had promised to come here again, and so he did at all events. The news of his arrival and situation came by the Senegal, a frigate taken from the enemy. General Greene and myself went on board. The count expressed to me not so much as to the envoy from General Sullivan, than as to his friend, the unhappy circumstances he was in. Bound by express orders from the King to go to Boston in case of an accident or a superior fleet, engaged by the common sentiment of all the officers, even of some American pilots, that he would ruin all his squadron in deferring his going to Boston, he called a new council of war, and finding every body of the same opinion, he did not think himself justifiable in staying here any longer, and took leave of me with true affliction not being able to assist America for some days, which has been rewarded with the most horrid ungratefulness; but no matter. I am only speaking of facts. The count said to me these last words: after many months of sufferings, my men will rest some days; I will man my ships, and, if I am assisted in getting masts, &c., three weeks after my arrival I shall go out again, and then we shall fight for the glory of the French name, and the interests of America.

The day the count went off, the general American officers drew a protestation, which, as I had been very strangely called there, I refused to sign, but I wrote a letter to the admiral. The protestation and the letter did not arrive in time.

Now, my dear general, I am going to hurt your generous feelings by an imperfect picture of what I am forced to see. Forgive me for it; it is not to the commander-in-chief, it is to my most dearest friend, General Washington, that I am speaking. I want to lament with him the ungenerous sentiments I have been forced to see in many American breasts.

Could you believe, that forgetting any national obligation, forgetting what they were owing to that same fleet, what they were yet to expect from them, and instead of resenting their accidents as these, of allies and brothers, the people turned mad at their departure, and wishing them all the evils in the world, did treat them as a generous one would be ashamed to treat the most inveterate enemies. You cannot have any idea of the horrors which were to be heard in that occasion. Many leaders themselves finding they were disappointed, abandoned their minds to illiberality and ungratefulness. Frenchmen of the highest character have been exposed to the most disagreeable circumstances, and yet, myself, the friend of America—the friend of General Washington. I am more upon a warlike footing in the American lines, than when I come near the British lines at Newport.

Such is, my dear general, the true state of matters. I am sure it will infinitely displease and hurt your feelings. I am also sure you will approve the part I have taken in it, which was to stay much at home with all the French gentlemen who are here, and declare, at the same time, that anything thrown before me against my nation I would take as the most particular affront.

Inclosed I send you the general orders of the 24th, upon which I thought I was obliged to pay a visit to General Sullivan, who has agreed to alter them in the following manner. Remember, my dear general, that I don't speak to the commander-in-chief, but to my friend, that I am far from complaining of anybody. I have no complaints at all to make you against any one; but I lament with you that I have had an occasion of seeing so ungenerous sentiments in American hearts.

I will tell you the true reason. The leaders of the expedition are, most of them, ashamed to return after having spoken of their Rhode Island success in proud terms before their family, their friends, their internal enemies. The others, regardless of the expense France has been put to by that fleet, of the tedious, tiresome voyage, which so many men have had for their service, though they are angry that the fleet takes three weeks, upon the whole campaign, to refit themselves, they cannot bear the idea of being brought to a small expense, to the loss of a little time, to the fatigue of staying some few days more in a camp at some few miles off their houses; for I am very far from looking upon the expedition as having miscarried, and there I see even a certainty of success.

If, as soon as the fleet is repaired, which (in case they are treated as one is in a country one is not at war with,) would be done in three weeks from this time, the Count d'Estaing was to come around, the expedition seems to offer a very good prospect. If the enemy evacuates New York, we have the whole continental army, if not, we might perhaps have some more men, what number, however, I cannot pretend to judge. All that I know is, that I shall be very happy to see the fleet cooperating with General Washington himself.

I think I shall be forced, by the board of general officers, to go soon to Boston. That I will do as soon as required, though with reluctance, for I do not believe that our position on this part of the island is without danger; but my principle is to do everything which is thought good for the service. I have very often rode express to the fleet, to the frigates, and that, I assure you, with the greatest pleasure; on the other hand, I may perhaps be useful to the fleet. Perhaps, too, it will be in the power of the count to do something which might satisfy them. I wish, my dear general, you could know as well as myself, how desirous the Count d'Estaing is to forward the public good, to help your success, and to serve the cause of America.

I earnestly beg you will recommend to the several chief persons of Boston to do everything they can to put the French fleet in a situation for sailing soon. Give me leave to add, that I wish many people, by the declaration of your sentiments in that affair, could learn how to regulate theirs, and blush at the sight of your generosity.

You will find my letter immense. I began it one day and finished it the next, as my time was swallowed up by those eternal councils of war. I shall have the pleasure of writing you from Boston. I am afraid the Count d'Estaing will have felt to the quick the behaviour of the people on this occasion. You cannot conceive how distressed he was to be prevented from serving this country for some time. I do assure you his circumstances were very critical and distressing.

For my part, my sentiments are known to the world. My tender affection for General Washington is added to them; therefore I want no apologies for writing upon what has afflicted me both as an American and as a Frenchman.

I am much obliged to you for the care you are so kind as to take of that poor horse of mine; had he not found such a good stable as this at headquarters, he would have cut a pitiful figure at the end of his travels, and I should have been too happy if there had remained so much of the horse as the bones, the skin, and the four shoes.

Farewell, my dear general; whenever I quit you, I meet with some disappointment and misfortune. I did not need it to desire seeing you as much as possible. With the most tender affection and high regard, I have the honour to be, &c.

Dear General,—I must add to my letter, that I have received one from General Greene, very different, from the expressions I have to complain of, he seems there very sensible of what I feel. I am very happy when placed in a situation to do justice to any one.

Endnote:

1. The circumstances which gave rise to this letter are mentioned in the memoirs. The following details will still further explain them:—

When the storm had dispersed his fleet, M. de Estaing wrote a very remarkable letter to General Sullivan, in which he explained to him the impossibility of remaining in sight of Rhode Island without danger, and without disobeying the precise orders of the king. He expressed his regret that the landing of the Americans in the island, which had been effected one day before the day agreed upon, should not have been protected by the vessels; and he rejected strongly the imputation of having blamed him under these circumstances for having operated so early, and with only two thousand men. To his great regret, his situation obliged him to answer the proposal of a combined attack, by a refusal. This answer excited much dissatisfaction amongst the Americans. Their officers signed a protestation, which appears to have been considered by some of them as the means of seconding the secret inclination of the admiral by forcing him to fight. The report was spread, in truth, that a cabal in the naval force alone obliged him to make a retreat, from a feeling of jealousy of the glory which he might have acquired, as he had belonged formerly to the land forces. This protestation was carried to him by Colonel Laurens; after a recapitulation of all the arguments which might be used against the departure of the fleet, it terminated by the solemn declaration that that measure was derogatory to the honour of France, contrary to the intentions of his V. C. Majesty, and to the interests of the American nation, &c. When this protestation was submitted to congress, they immediately ordered that it should be kept secret, and that M. Gérard should be informed of this order, which General Washington was charged with executing by every means in his power.

General Sullivan issued the following order at the same time:—

"It having been supposed, by some persons, that by the orders of the 21st instant, the commander-in-chief meant to insinuate that the departure of the French fleet was owing to a fixed determination not to assist in the present enterprise, and that, as the general did not wish to give the least colour to ungenerous and illiberal minds to make such an unfair interpretation, he thinks it necessary to say, that as he could not possibly be acquainted with the orders of the French admiral, he could not determine whether the removal of the fleet was absolutely necessary or not; and, therefore, did not mean to censure an act which those orders might render absolutely necessary." These details, borrowed from the edition of the writings of Washington, will explain some passages of this letter, and the sense of the following letters.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

White Plains, September 1778.

MY DEAR MARQUIS,—I have been honoured with your favour of the 25th ultimo by Monsieur Pontgibaud, and I wish my time, which at present is taken up by a committee at congress, would permit me to go fully into the contents of it; this, however, it is not in my power to do; but in one word let me say, I feel everything that hurts the sensibility of a gentleman, and consequently, upon the present occasion, I feel for you and for our good and great allies the French. I feel myself hurt, also, at every illiberal and unthinking reflection which may have been cast upon the Count d'Estaing, or the conduct of the fleet under his command; and, lastly, I feel for my country. Let me entreat you, therefore, my dear marquis, to take no exception at unmeaning expressions, uttered, perhaps, without consideration, and in the first transport of disappointed hope. Every body, sir, who reasons, will acknowledge the advantages which we have derived from the French fleet, and the zeal of the commander of it; but, in a free and republican government, you cannot restrain the voice of the multitude; every man will speak as he thinks, or, more properly, without thinking, and consequently will judge at effects without attending to the causes. The censures which have been levelled at the officers of the French fleet would, more than probably, have fallen in a much higher degree upon a fleet of our own if we had one in the same situation. It is the nature of man to be displeased with everything that disappoints a favourite hope or flattering project; and it is the folly of too many of them to condemn without investigating circumstances.

Let me beseech you, therefore, my good sir, to afford a healing hand to the wound that, unintentionally, has been made. America esteems your virtues and your services, and admires the principles upon which you act; your countrymen, in our army, look up to you as their patron; the count and his officers consider you as a man high in rank, and high in estimation here and also in France; and I, your friend, have no doubt but you will use your utmost endeavours to restore harmony, that the honour, the glory, and mutual interest of the two nations maybe promoted and cemented in the firmest manner. I would say more on the subject, but am restrained for the want of time, and therefore shall only add, that with every sentiment of esteem and regard, I am, my dear marquis, &c.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO MAJOR-GENERAL SULLIVAN.

(ORIGINAL.)

Head Quarters, White Plains, 1st September, 1778.

Dear Sir,—The disagreement between the army under your command and the fleet, has given me very singular uneasiness: the continent at large is concerned in our cordiality, and it should be kept up, by all possible means, consistent with our honour and policy. First impressions, you know, are generally longest remembered, and will serve to fix, in a great degree, our national character among the French. In our conduct towards them we should remember that they are people old in war, very strict in military etiquette, and apt to take fire, where others scarcely seem warmed. Permit me to recommend, in the most particular manner, the cultivation of harmony and good agreement, and your endeavours to destroy that ill-humour which may have got into the officers. It is of the greatest importance, also, that the soldiers and the people should know nothing of the misunderstanding, or, if it has reached them, that ways may be used to stop its progress and prevent its effects.

I have received from congress the enclosed, by which you will perceive their opinion with regard to keeping secret the protest of the general officers: I need add nothing on this head. I have one thing, however, more to say: I make no doubt but you will do all in your power to forward the repair of the count's fleet, and render it fit for service, by your recommendations for that purpose to those who can be immediately instrumental.

I am, dear Sir, &c.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO MAJOR-GENERAL GREENE.

(ORIGINAL.)

Head-quarters, White Plains, 1st September, 1778.

DEAR SIR,—I have had the pleasure of receiving your several letters, the last of which was of the 22nd of August. I have not now time to take notice of the arguments that were made use of for and against the count's quitting the harbour of Newport and sailing for Boston: right or wrong, it will probably disappoint our sanguine expectations of success; and, what I esteem a still worse consequence, I fear it will sow the seeds of dissension and distrust between us and our new allies, unless the most prudent measures are taken to suppress the feuds and jealousies that have already arisen. I depend much upon your aid and influence to conciliate that animosity which I plainly perceive, by a letter from the marquis, subsists between the American officers and the French in our service; this, you may depend, will extend itself to the count, and to the officers and men of his whole fleet, should they return to Rhode Island, unless, upon their arrival there, they find a reconciliation has taken place. The marquis speaks kindly of a letter from you to him on the subject; he will therefore take any advice coming from you in a friendly light; and, if he can be pacified, the other French gentlemen will of course be satisfied, as they look up to him as their head. The marquis grounds his complaint upon a general order of the 24th of August, the latter part of which is certainly very impolitic, especially considering the universal clamour that prevailed against the French nation.

I beg you will take every measure to keep the protest entered into by the general officers from being made public. The congress, sensible of the ill consequences that will flow from the world's knowing our differences, have passed a resolve to that purpose. Upon the whole, my dear sir, you can conceive my meaning better than I can express it; and I therefore fully depend upon your exerting yourself to heal all private animosities between our principal officers and the French, and to prevent all illiberal expressions and reflections that may fall from the army at large.

I have this moment received a letter from General Sullivan of the 29th of August, in which he barely informs me of an action upon that day, in which he says we had the better, but does not mention particulars.

I am, &c.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Tyvertown, 1st September, 1778.

MY DEAR GENERAL,—That there has been an action fought where I could have been, and where I was not, is a thing which will seem as extraordinary to you as it seems so to myself. After along journey and a longer stay from home, (I mean from head-quarters,) the only satisfactory day I have, finds me in the middle of a town. There I had been sent, pushed, hurried, by the board of general officers, and principally by Generals Sullivan and Greene, who thought I should be of great use to the common cause, and to whom I foretold the disagreeable event which would happen to me; I felt, on that occasion, the impression of that bad star which, some days ago, has influenced the French undertakings, and which, I hope, will soon be removed. People say that I don't want an action; but if it is not necessary to my reputation as a tolerable private soldier, it would at least add to my satisfaction and pleasure. However, I was happy enough to arrive before the second retreat: it was not attended with such trouble and danger as it would have been had not the enemy been so sleepy, I was thus once more deprived of my fighting expectations.

From what I have heard from sensible and candid French gentlemen, the action does great honour to General Sullivan: he retreated in good order; he opposed, very properly, every effort of the enemy; he never sent troops but well supported, and displayed great coolness during the whole day. The evacuation I have seen extremely well performed, and my private opinion is, that if both events are satisfactory to us, they are very shameful to the British generals and troops; they had, indeed, so many fine chances to cut us to pieces; but they are very good people.

Now, my dear general, I must give you an account of that journey for which I have paid so dear. The Count d'Estaing arrived the day before in Boston. I found him much displeased at a protest of which you have heard, and many other circumstances which I have reported to you: I did what I could on the occasion; but I must do the admiral the justice to say that it has not at all diminished his warm desire of serving America. We waited together on the council, General Heath, General Hancock, and were very well satisfied with them; the last one distinguished himself very much by his zeal on the occasion. Some people in Boston were rather dissatisfied; but when they saw the behaviour of the council, Generals Heath and Hancock, they, I hope, will do the same; I, therefore, fear nothing but delays. The marts are very far off, provisions difficult to be provided. The Count d'Estaing was ready to come with his land forces and put himself under General Sullivan's orders, though dissatisfied with the latter; but our new circumstances will alter that design.

I beg you will pardon me once more, my dear general, for having troubled and afflicted you with the account of what I had seen after the departure of the French fleet. My confidence in you is such, that I could not feel so warmly upon this point without communicating it to your excellency. I have now the pleasure to inform you that the discontent does not appear so great. The French hospital is arrived at Boston, though under difficulties, which, however, I think I have diminished a good deal by sending part of my family, with orders to some persons, and entreaties to others, to give them all the assistance in their power. Now, everything will be right provided the Count d'Estaing is enabled to sail soon. Every exertion, I think, ought to be employed for that purpose in all the several parts of the continent: marts, biscuit, water, and provisions are his wants. I long to see that we have again the command, or at least an equal force, upon the American seas.

By your letters to General Sullivan, I apprehend that there is some general move in the British army, and that your excellency is going to send us reinforcements. God grant you may send us as many as with the militia will make a larger army, that you might command them yourself. I long, my dear general, to be again with you, and to have the pleasure of co-operating with the French fleet, under your immediate orders, this will be the greatest I can feel; I am sure everything will then be right. The Count d'Estaing (if Rhode Island is again to be taken, which I ardently wish,) would be extremely happy to take it in conjunction with General Washington, and it would remove the other inconveniences. I am now entrusted, by General Sullivan, with the care of Warren, Bristol, and the eastern shore. I am to defend a country with very few troops who are not able to defend more than a single point. I cannot answer that the enemy won't go and do what they please, for I am not able to prevent them, only with a part of their army, and yet this part must not land far from me; but I answer, that if they come with equal or not very superior forces to those I may collect, we shall flog them pretty well; at least, I hope so. My situation seems to be uncertain, for we expect to hear soon from your excellency. You know Mr. Touzard, a gentleman of my family—he met with a terrible accident in the last action; running before all the others, to take a piece of cannon in the midst of the enemy, with the greatest excess of bravery, he was immediately covered with their shots, had his horse killed, and his right arm shattered to pieces. He was happy enough not to fall into their hands: his life is not despaired of. Congress was going to send him a commission of major.

Give me joy, my dear general, I intend to have your picture, and Mr. Hancock has promised me a copy of that he has in Boston. He gave one to Count d'Estaing, and I never saw a man so glad at possessing his sweetheart's picture, as the admiral was to receive yours.

In expecting, with the greatest impatience, to hear from your excellency as to what are to be the general plans, and your private movements, I have the honour to be, with the highest respect, the warmest and most endless affection, dear general, &c.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Camp, near Bristol, the 7th September, 1778.

My Dear General,—I cannot let M. de la Neuville go to head-quarters without recalling to your excellency's memory an inhabitant of the eastern Rhode Island, those who long much to be again reunited to you, and conceive now great hopes, from Sir Henry Clinton's movement to New York, that you will come to oppose him in person. I think if we meet to oppose the enemy in this quarter, that more troops are absolutely necessary, for we are not able to do anything in our scattered situation. I confess I am myself very uneasy in this quarter, and fear that these people will put it in their heads to take some of our batteries, &c., which, if properly attacked, it will be difficult to prevent. I am upon a little advance of land, where, in case of an alarm, a long stay might be very dangerous; but we will do the best.

I am told that the enemy is going to evacuate New York. My policy leads me to believe that some troops will be sent to Halifax, to the West Indies, and to Canada; that Canada, I apprehend, will be your occupation next winter and spring. This idea, my dear general, alters a plan I had to make a voyage home some months hence, however, as long as you fight I want to fight along with you, and I much desire to see your excellency in Quebec next summer.

With the most tender affection and highest respect, I have the honour to be, &c.

TO THE DUKE D'AYEN.

Bristol, near Rhode Island, September 11th, 1778,

I have already endeavoured to describe to you some part of the pleasure your last letter gave me; but I cannot write again without repeating my assurance of the delight I derived from its perusal. I have blessed, a thousand times, the vessel that brought that letter, and the favourable winds that blew it, to the American shore. The kindness and affection you express have sunk deeply into a heart which is fully sensible of all their value. Your partiality has far over-rated my slight merit; but your approbation is so precious to me, my desire of obtaining it is so very strong, that I experience the same pleasure as if I were conscious of meriting your good opinion. I love you too well not to be enchanted and overjoyed when I receive any proof of your affection. You may find many persons more worthy of it, but I may take the liberty of challenging you to find one human being who either values it more highly, or is more desirous of obtaining it. I place full reliance on your kindness, and even if I were unhappy enough to fall under your displeasure, I hope I should not forfeit your affection. I think I may promise that that last misfortune shall never occur through any fault of mine, and I wish I could feel as certain of never erring from my head as from my heart. The goodness of my friends imposes a weight of obligation upon me. My greatest pleasure will be to hear you say, whilst I embrace you, that you do not disapprove of my conduct, and that you retain for me that friendship which renders me so happy. It is impossible for me to describe to you the joy your letter, and the kind feeling which dictated it, have inspired me with. How delighted I shall be to thank you for it, and to find myself again in your society! If you should ever amuse yourself by looking at the American campaigns, or following them on your maps, I shall ask permission to insert a small river or a mountain: this would give me an opportunity of describing to you the little I have seen, of confiding to you my own trifling ideas, and of endeavouring so to combine them as to render them more military: for there is so great a difference between what I behold here, and those large, fine, well-organised armies of Germany, that, in truth, when I recur from them to our American armies, I scarcely dare say that we are making war. If the French war should terminate before that of the rest of Europe, and you were disposed to see how things were going on, and permitted me to accompany you, I should feel perfectly happy; in the meantime, I have great pleasure in thinking that I shall pass some mornings with you at your own house, and I promise myself as much improvement as amusement from conversing with you, if you are so kind as to grant me some portion of your time.

I received, with heartfelt gratitude, the advice you gave me to remain here during this campaign; it was inspired by true friendship and a thorough knowledge of my interest: such is the species of advice we give to those we really love, and this idea has rendered it still dearer to me. I will be guided by it in proportion as events may follow the direction you appear to have expected. A change of circumstances renders a change of conduct sometimes necessary. I had intended, as soon as war was declared, to range myself under the French banner: I was induced to take this resolution from the fear that the ambition of obtaining higher rank, or the wish of retaining the one I actually enjoy, should appear to be my only motives for remaining here. Such unworthy sentiments have never found entrance into my heart. But your letter, advising me to remain, and assuring me there would be no land campaign, induced me to change my determination, and I now rejoice that I have done so. The arrival of the French fleet upon this coast, has offered me the agreeable prospect of acting in concert with it, and of being a happy spectator of the glory of the French banner. Although the elements, until now, have declared themselves against us, I have not lost the sanguine hopes of the future, which the great talents of M. d'Estaing have inspired us with. You will be astonished to hear that the English still retain all their posts, and have contented themselves with merely evacuating Philadelphia. I expected, and General Washington also expected, to see them abandon everything for Canada, Halifax, and their islands; but these gentlemen are apparently in no great haste. The fleet, it is true, may hitherto have rendered such a division of their troops rather difficult; but now that it is removed to Boston, they might easily begin to make a move: they appear to me, instead of moving off, to intend fighting a little in this part of the country. I thought I ought to consult M. d'Estaing, and even M. Gérard on this subject. Both agreed that I was right to remain, and even said, that my presence here would not prove wholly useless to my own country. That I might have nothing to reproach myself with, I wrote to M. de Montbarrey a short letter, which apprised him of my being still in existence, and of the resolution I had taken not to return to France in the midst of this campaign.

The kind manner in which you received the gazette which John Adams conveyed to you, induced me to send you a second, which must have made you acquainted with the few events that have taken place during this campaign. The visit that the English army designed to pay to a detachment which I commanded the 28th of May, and which escaped their hands owing to their own dilatory movements; the arrival of the treaty, subsequently that of the commissioners, the letter they addressed to congress, the firm answer they received, the evacuation of Philadelphia, and the retreat of General Clinton through Jersey, are the only articles worthy of attention. I have also described to you in what manner we followed the English army, and how General Lee, after my detachment had joined him, allowed himself to be beaten. The arrival of General Washington arrested the disorder, and determined the victory on our side. It is the battle, or rather affair, of Monmouth. General Lee has since been suspended for a year by a council of war, for his conduct on this occasion.

I must now relate to you what has occurred since the arrival of the fleet, which has experienced contrary winds ever since it sailed; after a voyage of three months it reached the Delaware, which the English had then quitted; from thence it proceeded to Sandyhook, the same place General Clinton sailed from after the check he encountered at Monmouth. Our army repaired to White Plains, that former battle-field of the Americans. M. d'Estaing blockaded New York, and we were thus neighbours of the English both by land and sea. Lord Howe, enclosed in the harbour, and separated from our fleet only by the Sandy-hook bar, did not accept the combat which the French admiral ardently desired, and offered him for several days. A noble project was conceived—that of entering into the harbour; but our ships drew too much water, and the English seventy fours could not enter with their guns. Some pilots gave no hopes on this subject; but, when we examined the case more narrowly, all agreed as to its impossibility, and soundings proved the truth of the latter opinion; we were therefore obliged to have recourse to other measures.

General Washington, wishing to make a diversion on Rhode Island, ordered General Sullivan, who commanded in that state, to assemble his troops. The fleet stationed itself in the channel which leads to Newport, and I was ordered to conduct a detachment of the great army to General Sullivan, who is my senior in command. After many delays, which were very annoying to the fleet, and many circumstances, which it would be too long to relate, all our preparations were made, and we landed on the island with twelve thousand men, many of them militia, of whom I commanded one half upon the left side. M. d'Estaing had entered the channel the day before, in spite of the English batteries. General Pigot had enclosed himself in the respectable fortifications of Newport. The evening of our arrival, the English fleet appeared before the channel with all the vessels that Lord Howe had been able to collect, and a reinforcement of four thousand men for the enemy, who had already from five to six thousand men.

A north wind blew most fortunately for us the next day, and the French fleet passing gallantly under a sharp fire from the batteries, to which they replied with broadside shot, prepared themselves to accept the conflict which Lord Howe was apparently proposing to them. The English admiral suddenly cut his cables, and fled at full sail, warmly pursued by all our vessels, with the admiral at their head. This spectacle was given during the finest weather possible, and within sight of the English, and American armies. I never felt so proud as on that day.

The next day, when the victory was on the point of being completed, and the guns of the Languedoc were directed towards the English fleet, at the most glorious moment for the French navy, a sudden gale, followed by a dreadful storm, separated and dispersed the French vessels, Howe's vessels, and those of Biron, which, by a singular accident, had just arrived there. The Languedoc and the Marseillais were dismasted, and the Cesar was afterwards unheard of for some time. To find the English fleet was impossible. M. d'Estaing returned to Rhode Island, remained there two days, to ascertain whether General Sullivan wished to retire, and then entered the Boston harbour. During these various cruises, the fleet took or burnt six English frigates, and a large number of vessels, of which several were armed; they also cleared the coast and opened the harbours. Their commander appeared to me to have been formed for great exploits; his talents, which all men must acknowledge, the qualities of his heart, his love of discipline and of the honour of his country, and his indefatigable activity, excite my admiration, and make me consider him, as a man created for great actions.

As to ourselves, we remained some time at Rhode Island, and spent several days firing cannon shot at each other, which produced no great result on either side; but General Clinton having led himself a reinforcement of five thousand men, and a part of our militia having returned to their own homes, we thought of retiring; the harbour was no longer blockaded, and the English were resuming their naval advantage. Our retreat at that period was preceded by a trifling skirmish, at which I was not present, having repaired to Boston respecting an affair which I dare not write for fear of accidents. I returned in great haste, as you may imagine, and, after my arrival, we completed the evacuation of the Island. As the English were gone out, we were such near neighbours, that our picquets touched each other; they allowed us, however, to re-embark without perceiving it, and this want of activity appeared to me more fortunate, as they would have incommoded me exceedingly had they attacked the rear.

I am at present on the continent, and have the command of the troops stationed nearest Rhode Island; General Sullivan is at Providence; M. d'Estaing is taking in, at Providence, masts and provisions; General Washington is at White Plains, with three brigades, stationed some miles in advance on that side, in case of need. As to the English, they occupy New York and the adjacent Islands, and are better defended by their vessels than by their troops. They possess the same number of troops at Rhode Island that they did formerly, and General Grey, at the head of about five thousand men, marches along the coast, with the intention of burning the towns and ransoming the small Islands. It is thought, however, that the scene will soon become more animated; there are great movements in New York; Lord Howe has gone out with all his fleet, strengthened with the greatest part of Biron's squadron; M. d'Estaing has taken possession of the harbour, and has established some formidable batteries. On the other side, Mr. Grey may form and execute more serious projects; he is at present in my neighbourhood, and I am obliged to keep myself still more on the alert, because the stations which I occupy extend from Seconnet Point, which you may see on the map, to Bristol. I hope all this will soon end, for we are now in a very tiresome state of inaction.

I am becoming extremely prolix, but I perceive that I have forgotten dates, and two lines more or less will not add much to your fatigue. The evacuation of Philadelphia took place the 18th June; the affair of Monmouth the 28th; we arrived on Rhode Island, I think, the 10th August, and evacuated it the 30th of the same month: my gazette is now completed.

An accident has occurred on this Island which has affected me deeply. Several French officers, in the service of America, have the kindness to pass much of their time with me, especially when I am engaged firing musket balls. M. Touzard, an artillery officer in the regiment of La Fère, has been, during the last months, one of my constant associates. Finding a good opportunity on the Island of snatching a piece of cannon from the enemy, he threw himself in the midst of them, with the greatest gallantry and courage; but his temerity drew upon himself a hot fire from the enemy, which killed his horse, and carried away his right arm. His action has been admired, even by the English; it would be indeed unfortunate if distance should prevent its being known in France; I could not refrain from giving an account of it to M. de Montbarrey, although I have not any right to do so; but I am very anxious to be of use to this brave officer. If any opportunity offers of serving him, I recommend him earnestly to your love of noble actions. I confide my letters to M. d'Estaing, who will send them to France. If you should have the kindness to write to me, and any packet ships be sent out to the fleet, I beg you to take advantage of them. The admiration I feel for him who commands it, and my firm conviction that he will not let an opportunity escape of performing glorious deeds, will always make me desirous of being employed in unison with him; and the friendship of General Washington gives me the assurance that I need not even make such a request; I often also receive letters from M. d'Estaing, and he will send me yours as soon as he receives them. You must feel how impossible it is for me to ascertain when I can return to you. I shall be guided entirely by circumstances. My great object in wishing to return was the idea of a descent upon England. I should consider myself as almost dishonoured if I were not present at such a moment. I should feel so much regret and shame, that I should be tempted to drown or hang myself, according to the English mode. My greatest happiness would be to drive them from this country, and then to repair to England, serving under your command. This is a very delightful project; God grant it may be realized! It is the one which would be most peculiarly agreeable to me. I entreat you to send me your advice as soon as possible; if I but receive it in time, it shall regulate my conduct. Adieu, I dare not begin another page; I beg you to accept the assurance of my tender respect, and of all the sentiments that I shall ever feel for you during the remainder of my life.

I shall add this soiled bit of paper, which might have suited Harpagon himself, to my long epistle, to tell you that I am become very reasonable as relates to expenses. Now that I have my own establishment, I shall spend still less, and I really act very prudently, when you consider the exorbitant price of every thing, principally with paper money.

I shall write by another opportunity, perhaps a more speedy one, to Madame de Tessé. I entreat you to present her with my tender respects. If M. de Tessé, M. de Mun, M. de Neiailly, M. Senac~{1} retain a kind remembrance of me, deign to present my compliments to them. If M. de Comte le Broglie does not receive news from this country, as he has always expressed great interest in me, be so good as to give him an account of our proceedings when you see him.

May I flatter myself that I still possess your good opinion? I should not doubt it, if I could but convince you how much I value it; I will do everything in my power to deserve it, and I should be miserable if you doubted for an instant how very deeply this feeling is engraven in my breast. If I have ever erred in the path I am pursuing, forgive the illusions of my head in favour of the good intentions and rectitude of my heart, which is filled with feelings of the deepest, gratitude, affection, and respect for you; and these it will ever retain, in all countries, and under all circumstances, until my latest breath.

LAFAYETTE,

Endnote:

1. M. de Tesse, first squire to the Queen, had married Mademoiselle de Noailles, daughter of the Marshal, and aunt to Madame de Lafayette; M. de Neuilly was attached, under the Marshal's orders, to the stables of the Queen; M. de Mun, father to M. de Mun, peer of France, was intimate with the whole family; M. Senac de Meilhan has been named comptroller general.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Bristol, near Rhode Island, Sept. 13th, 1778.

If any thing could lessen my pleasure in writing to you, my dearest love, it would be the painful idea that I am writing to you from a corner of America, and that all I love is two thousand leagues from me. But I have reason to hope that the actual state of things cannot subsist for any length of time, and that the moment appointed for our meeting is not very far removed. War, which so often causes separation, must reunite us; it even secures my return by bringing French vessels here, and the fear of being taken will soon completely vanish; we shall be at least two to play at the game, and if the English attempt to interrupt my course, we shall be able to answer them. How delightful it would be for me to congratulate myself upon having heard from you; but that happiness has not been granted me. Your last letter arrived at the same time as the fleet; since that very distant day, since two months, I have been expecting letters, and none have reached me. It is true that the admiral, and the King's minister, have not been better treated by fortune; it is true that several vessels are expected, one in particular, every day: this gives me hope; and it is upon hope, that void and meagre food, that I must even subsist. Do not leave me in such a painful state of uncertainty, and although I do not expect to be here to receive an answer to the letter I am now writing, yet I entreat you to send me a very long one immediately, as if I were only waiting for your letter to depart; when you read this, therefore, call instantly for pen and ink, and write to me by every opportunity that you love me, and that you will be glad to see me again, not but that I am well convinced of this; my affection does not permit me to make use of any compliments with you, and there would be more vanity in telling you that I doubt your love, than in assuring you that I depend fully upon it, and for the remainder of my life. But every repetition of this truth always gives me pleasure. The feeling itself is so dear to me, and is so very necessary to my happiness, that I cannot but rejoice in your sweet expressions of it. It is not my reason (for I do not doubt your love) but my heart that you delight by repeating a thousand times what gives me more pleasure, if possible, each time you utter it. O, when shall I be with you, my love; when shall I embrace you a hundred times?

I flattered myself that the declaration of war would recall me immediately to France: independent of the ties which draw my heart towards those most dear to me, the love of my country, and my wish to serve her, are powerful motives for my return. I feared even that people, who did not know me, might imagine that ambition, a taste for the command I am entrusted with, and the confidence with which I am honoured, would induce me to remain here some time longer. I own that I felt some satisfaction in making these sacrifices to my country, and in quitting everything to fly to her assistance, without saying one word about the service I was giving up. This would have been a source of the purest gratification to me, and I had resolved to set out the moment the news of war arrived. You shall now learn what has delayed me, and I may venture to say you will approve of my conduct.

The news was brought by a French fleet, who came to co-operate with the American troops; new operations were just commencing; it was in the midst of a campaign; this was not a moment to quit the army. I was also assured, from good authority, that nothing would take place this year in France, and that I lost, therefore, nothing by remaining here. I ran the risk, on the contrary, of passing the whole autumn in a vessel, and with a strong desire to fight everywhere, to fight in truth nowhere, I was flattered in this country with the hope of undertaking some enterprise in concert with M. d'Estaing; and persons like himself charged with the affairs of France, told me my quitting America would be prejudicial, and my remaining in it useful, to my country. I was forced to sacrifice my delightful hopes, and delay the execution of my most agreeable projects. But at length the happy moment of rejoining you will arrive, and next winter will see me united to all I love best in the world.

You will hear so much said about war, naval combats, projected expeditions, and military operations, made and to be made, in America, that I will spare you the ennui of a gazette. I have, besides, related to you the few events that have taken place since the commencement of the campaign. I have been so fortunate as to be constantly employed, and I have never made an unlucky encounter with balls or bullets, to arrest me in my path. It is now more than a year since I dragged about, at Brandywine, a leg that had been somewhat rudely handled, but since that time it has quite recovered, and my left leg is now almost as strong as the other one. This is the only scratch I have received, or ever shall receive, I can safely promise you, my love. I had a presentiment that I should be wounded at the first affair, and I have now a presentiment that I shall not be wounded again. I wrote to you after our success at Monmouth, and I scrawled my letter almost on the field of battle, and still surrounded with slashed faces. Since that period, the only events that have taken place, are the arrival and operations of the French fleet, joined to our enterprise on Rhode Island. I have sent a full detail of them to your father. Half the Americans say that I am passionately fond of my country, and the other half say that since the arrival of the French ships, I have become mad, and that I neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep, but according to the winds that blow. Betwixt ourselves, they are a little in the right; I never felt so strongly what may be called national pride. Conceive the joy I experienced on beholding the whole English fleet flying full sail before ours, in presence of the English and American armies, stationed upon Rhode Island. M. d'Estaing having unfortunately lost some masts, has been obliged to put into the Boston harbour. He is a man whose talents, genius, and great qualities of the heart I admire as much as I love his virtues, patriotism, and agreeable manners. He has experienced every possible difficulty; he has not been able to do all he wished to do; but he appears to me a man formed to advance the interests of such a nation as ours. Whatever may be the private feeling of friendship that unites me to him, I separate all partiality from the high opinion I entertain of our admiral. The Americans place great confidence in him, and the English fear him. As to the Rhode Island expedition, I shall content myself with saying that General Washington was not there, and that he sent me to conduct a reinforcement to the commanding officer, my senior in service. We exchanged, for several days, some cannon balls, which did no great harm on either side, and General Clinton having brought succours to his party, we evacuated the island, not without danger, but without any accident. We are all in a state of inaction, from which we shall soon awaken.

Whilst we were on the Island, an officer, who has passed the winter with me, named Touzard, of the regiment of La Fère, seeing an opportunity of snatching a piece of cannon from the enemy, threw himself amongst them with the utmost bravery. This action attracted the fire of his antagonists, which killed his horse, and carried off part of his right arm, which has since been amputated. If he were in France, such an action, followed by such an accident, would have been the means of his receiving the cross of St. Louis and a pension. I should feel the greatest pleasure if, through you and my friends, I could obtain for him any recompence.

I entreat you to present my respectful and affectionate compliments to the Marshal de Noailles; he must have received the trees I sent him. I will take advantage of the month of September, the most favourable time, to send him a still larger quantity. Do not forget me to Madame la Maréchale de Noailles; embrace my sisters a thousand and a thousand times. If you see the Chevalier de Chastellux, present to him my compliments and assurances of affection.

But what shall I say to you, my love? What expressions can my tenderness find sufficiently strong for our dear Anastasia? You will find them but in your own heart, and in mine, which is equally open to you. Cover her with kisses; teach her to love me by loving you. We are so completely united, that it is impossible to love one without loving also the other. That poor little child must supply all we have lost; she has two places to occupy in my heart, and this heavy task our misfortune has imposed on her. I love her most fondly, and the misery of trembling for her life does not prevent my feeling for her the warmest affection. Adieu; when shall I be permitted to see thee, to part from thee no more; to make thy happiness as thou makest mine, and kneel before thee to implore thy pardon. Adieu, adieu; we shall not be very long divided.

PRESIDENT LAURENS TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.~{1}

Philadelphia, 13th September, 1777.

Sir,—I am sensible of a particular degree of pleasure in executing the order of congress, signified in their act of the 9th instant, which will be enclosed with this, expressing the sentiments of the representatives of the United States of America, of your high merit on the late expedition against Rhode Island. You will do congress justice, Sir, in receiving the present acknowledgment as a tribute of the respect and gratitude of a free people. I have the honour to be, with very great respect and esteem, Sir, your obedient and most humble servant,

HENRY LAURENS, President.

Endnote:

1. This letter, as well as all those that follow to that of the 11th of January, 1779, with the exception of the letter to Lord Carlisle, was written originally in English.

RESOLUTION OF CONGRESS.

Resolved:—The president is charged with writing to the Marquis de Lafayette; that congress conceives that the sacrifice he made of his personal feelings, when, for the interest of the United States, he repaired to Boston, at the moment when the opportunity of acquiring glory on the field of battle could present itself; his military zeal in returning to Rhode Island, when the greatest part of the army had quitted it, and his measures to secure a retreat, have a right to this present expression of the approbation of congress.

September 9th, 1778.

MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE TO PRESIDENT LAURENS.

Camp, 23rd September, 1778.

Sir,—I have just received your favour of the 13th instant, acquainting me with the honour congress have been pleased to confer on me by their most gracious resolve. Whatever pride such an approbation may justly give me, I am not less affected by the feelings of gratefulness, and the satisfaction of thinking my endeavours were ever looked on as useful to a cause, in which my heart is so deeply interested. Be so good, Sir, as to present to congress my plain and hearty thanks, with a frank assurance of a candid attachment, the only one worth being offered to the representatives of a free people. The moment I heard of America, I loved her; the moment I knew she was fighting for freedom, I burnt with a desire of bleeding for her; and the moment I shall be able to serve her at any time, or in any part of the world, will be the happiest one of my life. I never so much wished for occasions of deserving those obliging sentiments with which I am honoured by these states and their representatives, and that flattering confidence they have been pleased to put in me, has filled my heart with the warmest acknowledgments and eternal affection.

I am, &c.,

LAFAYETTE.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Warren, 24th September, 1778.

MY DEAR GENERAL,—I am to acknowledge the reception of your late favour. Your excellency's sentiments were already known to me, and my heart had anticipated your answer. I, however, confess it gave me a new pleasure when I received it. My love for you is such, my dear general, that I should enjoy it better, if possible, in a private sentimental light than in a political one. Nothing makes me happier than to see a conformity of sentiments between you and me, upon any matter whatsoever; and the opinion of your heart is so precious to me, that I will ever expect it to fix mine. I don't know how to make out a fine expression of my sentiments, my most respected friend; but you know, I hope, my heart, and I beg you will read in it.

Agreeably to your advices and my own feelings, I made every effort that I could for preventing any bad measures being taken on either side; which conduct I also closely kept in the late affair of Boston concerning M. de St. Sauveur. I wished to have been of some use on both occasions, and I hope we have pretty well succeeded. The Count d'Estaing is entirely ours; so, at least, I apprehend by his confidential letters to me; and it affords me great pleasure. I have found by him an occasion of writing to France; and you will better conceive than I may describe, how I have acted on the occasion. I thought the best way of speaking of those internal affairs was not to speak of them, or at least very indifferently, so as to give any such report which might arrive as groundless and insignificant. I daresay my scheme will have the desired effect, and nothing will be thought of it in France. I thought it would be well to let the admiral know that you do not lay any blame upon him, and that you entertained the sentiments any honest Frenchman might wish upon this matter.

Agreeably to a very useful article of a letter to General Sullivan, I have removed my station from Bristol, and am in a safer place, behind Warren, The few spies I have been able to procure upon the island seem rather to think of an evacuation than of any enterprise; but, you know, New York is the fountain-head. I long much, my dear general, to be again with you; our separation has been long enough, and I am here as inactive as anywhere else. My wish, and that you will easily conceive, had been to co-operate with the French fleet; I don't know now what they will do. The admiral has written to me upon many plans, and does not seem well fixed on any scheme: he burns with the desire of striking a blow, and is not yet determined how to accomplish it. He wrote me that he wanted to see me, but I cannot leave my post, lest something might happen: it has already cost dear enough to me. However, if you give me leave, I'll ask this of General Sullivan, and will do what I think best for both countries.

I have heard of a pistolade between two gentlemen, which lasted very long without much effect; it looks like our too much spoken of cannonade at Newport, while the siege was continued. I have not yet been able to find out what your excellency desires me to inquire into, on account of the French queen:~{1} but the people of the navy are too remote from Versailles to have any knowledge of it, and the Count d'Estaing himself has not any intimacy with her. I'll get that intelligence from a better source, and more agreeable to your feelings on the matter, in order that you may do what you think fit to be done if the report is true.

I beg, my dear general, when you write to your lady, that you would present my respects to her; and I beg also the liberty to make here a thousand compliments to your family. With the highest respect and most tender friendship, I have the honour to be, dear general.

Endnote:

1. Several ladies had lately come out from New York, who reported that a vessel had been captured and brought to that city, in which was contained a present from the Queen of France to Mrs. Washington, as "an elegant testimonial of her approbation of the general's conduct," and that it had been sold at auction for the benefit of the captors. This intelligence was so confidently affirmed from such a respectable source, that General Washington had requested the Marquis de Lafayette to make inquiry as to the truth of it through the medium of Madame de Lafayette.—Writings of Washington, vol. vi p. 74.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

Fredericksburg, 25th September, 1778.

MY DEAR MARQUIS,—The sentiments of affection and attachment, which breathe so conspicuously in all your letters to me, are at once pleasing and honourable, and afford me abundant cause to rejoice at the happiness of my acquaintance with you. Your love of liberty, the just sense you entertain of this valuable blessing, and your noble and disinterested exertions in the cause of it, added to the innate goodness of your heart, conspire to render you dear to me; and I think myself happy in being linked with you in bonds of the strictest friendship.

The ardent zeal which you have displayed during the whole course of the campaign to the eastward, and your endeavours to cherish harmony among the officers of the allied powers, and to dispel those unfavourable impressions which had begun to take place in the minds of the unthinking, from misfortunes, which the utmost stretch of human foresight could not avert, deserved, and now receives, my particular and warmest thanks. I am sorry for Monsieur Touzard's loss of an arm in the action on Rhode Island; and offer my thanks to him, through you, for his gallant behaviour on that day.

Could I have conceived that my picture had been an object of your wishes, or in the smallest degree worthy of your attention, I should, while M. Peale was in the camp at Valley Forge, have got him to take the best portrait of me he could, and presented it to you; but I really had not so good an opinion of my own worth, as to suppose that such a compliment would not have been considered as a greater instance of my vanity, than means of your gratification; and therefore, when you requested me to sit to Monsieur Lanfang, I thought it was only to obtain the outlines and a few shades of my features, to have some prints struck from.

If you have entertained thoughts, my dear marquis, of paying a visit to your court, to your lady, and to your friends this winter, but waver on account of an expedition into Canada, friendship induces me to tell you, that I do not conceive that the prospect of such an operation is so favourable at this time, as to cause you to change your views. Many circumstances and events must conspire to render an enterprise of this kind practicable and advisable. The enemy, in the first place, must either withdraw wholly, or in part, from their present posts, to leave us at liberty to detach largely from this army. In the next place, if considerable reinforcements should be thrown into that country, a winter's expedition would become impracticable, on account of the difficulties which would attend the march of a large body of men, with the necessary apparatus, provisions, forage, and stores, at that inclement season. In a word, the chances are so much against the undertaking, that they ought not to induce you to lay aside your other purpose, in the prosecution of which you shall have every aid, and carry with you every honourable testimony of my regard and entire approbation of your conduct, that you can wish. But it is a compliment, which is due, so am I persuaded you would not wish to dispense with the form of signifying your desires to congress on the subject of your voyage and absence.

I come now, in a more especial manner, to acknowledge the receipt of your obliging favour of the 21st, by Major Dubois, and to thank you for the important intelligence therein contained.

I do most cordially congratulate you on the glorious defeat of the British squadron under Admiral Keppel, an event which reflects the highest honour on the good conduct and bravery of Monsieur d'Orrilliers and the officers of the fleet under his command; at the same time that it is to be considered, I hope, as the happy presage, of a fortunate and glorious war to his most Christian Majesty. A confirmation of the account I shall impatiently wait and devoutly wish for. If the Spaniards, under this favourable beginning, would unite their fleet to that of France, together they would soon humble the pride of haughty Britain, and no long suffer her to reign sovereign of the seas, and claim the privilege of giving laws to the main.

You have my free consent to make the Count d'Estaing a visit, and may signify my entire approbation of it to General Sullivan, who, I am glad to find, has moved you out of a cul de sac. It was my advice to him long ago, to have no detachments in that situation, let particular places be ever so much unguarded and exposed from the want of troops. Immediately upon my removal from White Plains to this ground, the enemy threw a body of troops into the Jerseys; but for what purpose, unless to make a grand forage, I have not been able yet to learn. They advanced some troops at the same time from their lines at Kingsbridge towards our old encampment at the plains, stripping the inhabitants not only of their provisions and forage, but even the clothes on their backs, and without discrimination.

The information, my dear marquis, which I begged the favour of you to obtain, was not, I am persuaded, to be had through the channel of the officers of the French fleet, but by application to your fair lady, to whom I should be happy in an opportunity of paying my homage in Virginia, when the war is ended, if she could be prevailed upon to quit, for a few months, the gaieties and splendour of a court, for the rural amusements of a humble cottage.

I shall not fail to inform Mrs. Washington of your polite attention to her. The gentlemen of my family are sensible of the honour you do them by your kind inquiries, and join with me in a tender of best regards; and none can offer them with more sincerity and affection than I do. With every sentiment you can wish, I am, my dear marquis, &c.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.~{1}

(ORIGINAL.)

Camp, near Warren, 24th September, 1778.

MY DEAR GENERAL,—I am going to consult your excellency upon a point in which I not only want your leave and opinion, as the commander-in-chief, but also your candid advice, as the man whom I have the happiness to call my friend. In an address from the British commissaries to congress, the first after Johnstone was excluded, they speak in the most disrespectful terms of my nation and country. The whole is undersigned by them, and more particularly by the president, Lord Carlisle. I am the first French officer, in rank, of the American army; I am not unknown to the British, and if somebody must take notice of such expressions, that advantage does, I believe, belong to me. Don't you think, my dear general, that I should do well to write a letter ont he subject to Lord Carlisle, wherein I should notice his expressions conveyed in an unfriendly manner? I have mentioned something of this design to the Count d'Estaing, but wish entirely to fix my opinion by yours, which I instantly beg, as soon as you may find it convenient.

As everyting is perfectly quiet, and General Sullivan is persuaded that I may, with all safety, go to Boston, I am going to undertake a short journey towards that place. The admiral has several times expressed a desire of conversing with me; he has also thrown out some wishes that something might be done towards securing Boston, but it seems he always refers to a conversation for further explanation. My stay will be short, as I don't like towns in time of war, when I may be about a camp. If your excellency answers me immediately, I may soon receive your letter.

I want much to see you, my dear general, and consult you about many points, part of them are respecting myself. If you approve of my writing to Lord Carlisle, it would be a reason for coming near you for a short time, in case the gentleman is displeased with my mission.

With the most perfect respect, confidence, and affection, I have the honour to be, &c.

Endnote:

1. In the preceding session, the English parliament had passed bills called conciliatory, and in the month of June, conciliatory commissioners had presented themselves to negotiate an arrangement. These were, Lord Carlisle, Governor George Johnstone, and William Eden. Dr. Adam Ferguson, professor of moral philosophy at the University of Edinburgh, was secretary of the commission. They addressed a letter to Mr. Laurens which was to be communicated to congress. To that letter were joined private letters from Mr. Johnstone to several members of the assembly, whom he endeavoured to seduce by exciting interested hopes. The letters were given up to the congress, who declared "that it was incompatible with their own honour to hold any sort of correspondence or relation with the said George Johnstone."—(See the Letters of General Washington, vol. v., p. 397, and vol. vi., p. 31; and the History of the American Revolution, by David Ramsay, vol. ii., chap. 16.)

TO LORD CARLISLE.~{1}

I expected, until the present moment, my lord, to have only affairs to settle with your generals, and I hoped to see them at the head only of the armies which are respectively confided to us; your letter to the Congress of the United States, the insulting phrase to my country, which you yourself have signed, could alone bring me into direct communication with you. I do not, my lord, deign to refute your assertion, but I do wish to punish it. It is to you, as chief of the commission, that I now appeal, to give me a reparation as public as has been the offence, and as shall be the denial which arises from it; nor would that denial have been so long delayed if the letters had reached me sooner. As I am obliged to absent myself for some days, I hope to find your answer on my return. M. de Gimat, a French officer, will make all the arrangements for me which may be agreeable to you; I doubt not but that General Clinton, for the honour of his countryman, will consent to the measure I propose. As to myself, my lord, I shall consider all measures good, if, to the glory of being a Frenchman, I can add that of proving to one of your nation that my nation can never be attacked with impunity.

LAFAYETTE.

Endnote:

1. This letter was written in French.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Boston, 28th September, 1778.

DEAR GENERAL,—The news I have got from France, the reflections I have made by myself, and those which have been suggested to me by many people, particularly by the admiral, increases more than ever the desire I had of seeing again your excellency. I want to communicate to you my sentiments, and take your opinion upon my present circumstances—I look upon this as of high moment to my private interests. On the other hand, I have some ideas, and some intelligence in reference to public interests, which I am very desirous of disclosing to your excellency. I am sure, my dear general, that your sentiments upon my private concerns are such, that you will have no objection to my spending some hours with you.~{1}

The moment at which the fleet will be ready is not very far, and I think it of importance to have settled my affair with you before that time. I am going to write to General Sullivan on the subject, and if he has no objection, I'll go immediately to head-quarters; but should he make difficulties, I beg you will send me that leave. I intend to ride express, in order that I may have time enough. You may think, my dear general, that I don't ask, what I never asked in my life—a leave to quit the post I am sent to—without strong reasons for it; but the letters I have received from home make me very anxious to see you.

With the most tender affection and highest respect, &c.

Endnote:

1. In spite of the obstacles which had arrested M. de Lafayette at the commencement of the projected northern campaign, he had embraced with ardour the idea of a diversion which was to be operated in Canada, with the combined forces of France and America; and it was partly to converse on this plan with Washington, and later with the cabinet of Versailles, that he insisted upon having a conference with the general-in-chief, and returning to France before the winter. He was even summoned to explain himself on this subject with a committee from the congress, who adopted the plan in principle, but decided that General Washington should be first consulted. The latter expressed his objections in a public letter addressed to the congress, and in a private letter addressed to Laurens, (14th November, 1778.) It was long before the final decision of congress became known. M. de Lafayette was still ignorant of it when he embarked for Europe. The 29th December, only, a letter was addressed to him from President John Jay, who was charged by congress to express to him that the difficulties of execution—the want of men and materials, and, above all, the exhausted state of the finances, did not permit the accomplishment of this project; that if, however, France would first enter into it, the United States would make every effort to second her. But France, from various motives, did not shew herself disposed to snatch Canada from the English. (See the Correspondence of Washington, vol. vi., and his Life by Marshal, vol. iii)

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

Fishkill, 4th October, 1778.

MY DEAR MARQUIS,—I have had the pleasure of receiving, by the hands of Monsieur de la Colombe, your favour of the 28th ultimo, accompanied by one of the 24th, which he overtook somewhere on the road. The leave requested in the former, I am as much interested to grant, as to refuse my approbation of the challenge proposed in the latter. The generous spirit of chivalry, exploded by the rest of the world, finds a refuge, my dear friend, in the sensibility of your nation only. But it is in vain to cherish it, unless you can find antagonists to support it; and, however well adapted it might have been to the times in which it existed, in our days, it is to be feared, that your opponent, sheltering himself behind modern opinions, and under his present public character of commissioner, would turn a virtue of such ancient date into ridicule. Besides, supposing his lordship accepted your terms, experience has proved that chance is often as much concerned in deciding these matters as bravery, and always more than the justice of the cause. I would not, therefore, have your life, by the remotest possibility, exposed, when it may be reserved for so many greater occasions. His excellency, the admiral, I flatter myself, will be in sentiment with me; and, as soon as he can spare you, will send you to head-quarters, where I anticipate the pleasure of seeing you.

Having written very fully to you a few days ago, and put the letter under cover to General Sullivan, I have nothing to add at this time, but to assure you that, with the most perfect regard—I am, dear sir, &c.

MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE TO PRESIDENT LAURENS.

(ORIGINAL.)

Philadelphia, 13th October, 1778.

SIR,—Whatever care I should take not to employ the precious time at congress in private considerations, I beg leave to lay before them my present circumstances, with that confidence which naturally springs from affection and gratitude. The sentiments which bind me to my country, can never be more properly spoken of than in the presence of men who have done so much for their own. As long as I thought I could dispose of myself, I made it my pride and pleasure to fight under American colours, in defence of a cause, which I dare more particularly call ours, because I had the good fortune to bleed for it. Now, sir, that France is involved in a war, I am urged by a sense of duty, as well as by patriotic love, to present myself before the king, to know in what manner he may judge proper to employ my services. The most agreeable of all will be such as may enable me always to serve the common cause among those whose friendship I have the happiness to obtain, and whose fortune I have had the honour to follow in less smiling times. That reason, and others, which I leave to the feelings of congress, engage me to beg from them the liberty of going home for the next winter.

As long as there were any hopes of an active campaign, I did not think of leaving the field. Now that I see a very peaceable and undisturbed moment, I take this opportunity of waiting on congress. In case my request is granted, I shall so manage my departure as to be certain before going off that the campaign is really over. Inclosed you will find a letter from his excellency General Washington, where he expresses his assent to my getting leave of absence. I dare flatter myself, that I shall be looked upon as a soldier on furlough, who most heartily wants to join again his colours, and his most esteemed and beloved fellow-soldiers. In case it is thought that I can be in any way useful to the service of America, when I shall find myself among my countrymen, and in case any exertion of mine is deemed serviceable, I hope, sir, I shall always be considered as a man who is deeply interested in the welfare of the United States, and who has the most perfect affection, regard, and confidence for representatives. With the highest regard, I have the honour to be, &c.

LAFAYETTE.

PRESIDENT LAURENS TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

Philadelphia, 24th October, 1778.

SIR,—I had the honour of presenting to congress your letter, soliciting leave of absence, and I am directed by the house to express their thanks for your zeal in promoting that just cause in which they are engaged, and for the disinterested services you have rendered to the United States of America. In testimony of the high esteem and affection in which you are held by the good people of these states, as well as in acknowledgment of your gallantry and military talents, displayed on many signal occasions, their representatives in congress assembled have ordered an elegant sword to be presented to you by the American minister at the court of Versailles.

Enclosed within the present cover will be found an act of congress, of the 21st instant, authorizing these declarations, and granting a furlough for your return to France, to be extended at your own pleasure. I pray God to bless and protect you, Sir; to conduct you in safety to the presence of your prince, and to the re-enjoyment of your noble family and friends. I have the honour to be, with the highest respect, and with the most sincere affection, Sir, your most obedient and most humble servant,

HENRY LAURENS, President.

1778. In Congress, October 21st.—Resolved, That the Marquis de Lafayette, major-general in the service of the United States, have leave to go to France, and that he return at such time as shall be most convenient to him.

Resolved, That the president write a letter to the Marquis de Lafayette, returning him the thanks of congress for that disinterested zeal which led him to America, and for the services he has rendered to the United States by the exertion of his courage and abilities on many signal occasions.

Resolved, That the minister plenipotentiary of the United States of America at the court of Versailles be directed to cause an elegant sword, with proper devices, to be made, and presented in the name of the United States to the Marquis de Lafayette.

October 22nd.—Resolved, That the following letter of recommendation of the Marquis de Lafayette be written to the King of France:—

To our great, faithful, and beloved friend and ally, Louis the Sixteenth, king of France and Navarre:—

The Marquis de Lafayette having obtained our leave to return to his native country, we could not suffer him to depart without testifying our deep sense of his zeal, courage, and attachment. We have advanced him to the rank of major-general in our armies, which, as well by his prudent as spirited conduct, he has manifestly merited. We recommend this young nobleman to your majesty's notice, as one whom we know to be wise in council, gallant in the field, and patient under the hardships of war. His devotion to his sovereign has led him in all things to demean himself as an American, acquiring thereby the confidence of these United States, your good and faithful friends and allies, and the affection of their citizens. We pray God to keep your majesty in his holy protection.

Done at Philadelphia, the 22nd day of October, 1778, by the congress of the United States of North America, your good friends and allies.

HENRY LAURENS, President.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Philadelphia, the 24th of October, 1778.

My Dear General,—You will be surprised to hear that I am yet in this city, and that I could never get out this time. My own business was immediately done, and I received from congress all possible marks of kindness and affection; but public affairs do not go on quite so fast, and I am detained for the expedition of projects, instructions, and many papers which I am to carry with me. The zeal for the common cause prevents my leaving this place before I am dismissed. However, I will certainly set out to-morrow afternoon at farthest.

Congress have been pleased to grant me an undetermined furlough by the most polite and honourable resolves, to which they have added a letter for the king in my behalf. I will shew the whole to your excellency as soon as I have the pleasure to see you; and as I hope to arrive two days after this letter, I think it is useless to trouble you with copies.

I have received an answer from Lord Carlisle, in which he conceals himself behind his dignity, and, by a prudent foresight, he objects to entering into any explanation in any change of situation.

There is a plan going on which I think you will approve. The idea was not suggested by me, and I acted in the affair a passive part. I will speak to your excellency of it more at length, and with more freedom, at our first interview. May I hope, my dear general, that you will order the enclosed letters to be sent immediately to Boston, as some of them contain orders for a frigate to put herself in readiness.

With the highest respect and most tender affection, I have the honour to be.

LORD CARLISLE TO M. DE LAFAYETTE.

Sir,—I have received your letter by M. de Gimat; I own it appears to me difficult to make a serious answer to it; the only one that can be expected from me in my capacity of commissioner of the king, and which is one you should have foreseen, is, that I look upon myself, and shall always look upon myself, as not obliged to be responsible to any individual for my public conduct and mode of expression. I am only responsible to my king and country. In respect to the opinions or expressions contained in one of the public documents published by the authority of the commission to which I have the honour of belonging, unless they should be publicly retracted, you may feel certain that, whatever change may take place in my situation, I shall never be disposed to give any account of them, still less to disown them privately. I must recall to you that the insult you allude to as occurring in the correspondence between the king's commissioners and the congress is not of a private nature. I think, therefore, that all national disputes will be best decided when Admiral Biron and Count d'Estaing shall have met.

MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE TO PRESIDENT LAURENS.

(ORIGINAL.)

Philadelphia, 26th October, 1778.

SIR,—I have received your excellency's obliging letter, enclosing the several resolutions congress have honoured me with, and the leave of absence they have been pleased to grant. Nothing can make me happier than the reflection that my services have met with their approbation; the glorious testimonial of confidence and satisfaction repeatedly bestowed on me by the representatives of America, though superior to my merit, cannot exceed the grateful sentiments they have excited. I consider the noble present offered to me in the name of the United States as the most flattering honour; it is my most fervent desire soon to employ that sword in their service against the common enemy of my country, and of their faithful and beloved allies.

That liberty, safety, wealth, and concord may ever extend to the United States, is the ardent wish of a heart glowing with a devoted zeal and unbounded love, and the highest regard and the most sincere affection for their representatives. Be pleased, Sir, to present my thanks to them, and to accept, yourself, the assurance of my respectful attachment. I have the honour to be, with profound veneration, your excellency's most obedient servant,

LAFAYETTE.

FRAGMENT OF A LETTER FROM THE FRENCH MINISTER, M. GERARD, TO COUNT DE VERGENNES.

October, 1778. —I ought not to terminate this long despatch, without rendering to the wisdom and dexterity of the Marquis de Lafayette, in the part he has taken in these discussions, the justice which is due to his merits. He has given most salutary counsels, authorized by his friendship and experience. The Americans have strongly solicited his return with the troops which the king may send. He has replied with a due sensibility, but with an entire resignation to the will of the king. I cannot forbear saying, that the conduct, equally prudent, courageous, and amiable, of the Marquis de Lafayette, has made him the idol of the congress, the army, and the people of America. A high opinion is entertained of his military talents. You know how little I am inclined to adulation; but I should be wanting in justice, if I did not transmit to you these testimonials, which are here in the mouth of the whole world.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

Philadelphia, 29th December, 1778.

MY DEAR MARQUIS,—This will be accompanied by a letter from congress, which will inform you, that a certain expedition, after a full consideration of all circumstances, has been laid aside. I am sorry, however, for the delay it has occasioned you, by remaining so long undecided.

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 merits. Yet, as you are on the point of returning to your native country, I cannot forbear indulging my friendship, by adding to the honourable testimonies you have received from congress, the enclosed letter from myself to our minister at your court. I have therein endeavoured to give him an idea of the value this country sets upon you; and the interest I take in your happiness cannot but make me desire you may be equally dear to your own. Adieu, my dear marquis; my best wishes will ever attend you. May you have a safe and agreeable passage, and a happy meeting with your lady and friends. I ate, &c.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, AMERICAN MINISTER IN FRANCE.

(ORIGINAL)

Philadelphia, 28th December, 1788

SIR,—The Marquis de Lafayette, having served with distinction as major-general in the army of the United States for two campaigns, has been determined, by the prospect of a European war, to return to his native country. It is with pleasure that I embrace the opportunity of introducing to your personal acquaintance a gentleman, whose merit cannot have left him unknown to you by reputation. The generous motives which first induced him to cross the Atlantic; the tribute which he paid to gallantry at the Brandywine; his success in Jersey, before he had recovered from his wound, in an affair where he commanded militia against British grenadiers; the brilliant retreat, by which he eluded a combined manoeuvre of the British forces in the last campaign; his services in the enterprise against Rhode Island; are such proofs of his zeal, military order, and talents, as have endeared him to America, and must greatly recommend him to his prince.

Coming with so many titles to claim your esteem, it were needless, for any other purpose than to indulge my own feelings, to add, that I have a very particular friendship for him; and that, whatever services you may have it in your power to render him, will confer an obligation on one who has the honour to be—with the greatest esteem, regard, and respect, sir, &c.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

Boston, 5th January, 1779.

DEAR GENERAL,—In my difficult situation, at such a distance from you, I am obliged to take a determination by myself, which, I hope, will meet with your approbation. You remember, that in making full allowance for deliberations, the answer from congress was to reach me before the 15th of last month, and I have long since waited without even hearing from them. Nay, many gentlemen from Philadelphia assure me, congress believe that I am gone long ago. Though my affairs call me home, private interests would, however, induce me to wait for your excellency's letters, for the decision of congress about an exchange in case I should be taken, and for the last determinations concerning the plans of the next campaign.

But I think the importance of the despatches I am the bearer of; the uncertainty and improbability of receiving any others here; my giving intelligence at Versailles may be for the advantage of both nations; the inconvenience of detaining the fine frigate, on board which I return, and the danger of losing all the men, who desert very fast, are reasons so important as oblige me not to delay any longer. I am the more of that opinion from congress having resolved to send about this time three fast sailing vessels to France, and the marine committee having promised me to give the despatches to such officers as I would recommend; it is a very good way of forwarding their letters, and sending such as your excellency may be pleased to write me. I beg you will send copies of them by the several vessels.

To hear from you, my most respected friend, will be the greatest happiness I can feel. The longer the letters you write, the more blessed with satisfaction I shall think myself. I hope you will not refuse me that pleasure as often as you can. I hope you will ever preserve that affection which I return by the tenderest sentiments.

How happy, my dear general, I should be to come next spring, principally, as it might yet be proposed, I need not to say. Your first letter will let me know what I am to depend upon on that head, and, I flatter myself, the first from me will confirm to you that I am at liberty, and that most certainly I intend to come next campaign.

My health is now in the best condition, and I would not remember I ever was sick, were it not for the marks of friendship you gave me on that occasion. My good doctor has attended me with his usual care and tenderness. He will see me on board and then return to head-quarters; but the charge of your friend was intrusted to him till I was on board the frigate. I have met with the most kind hospitality in this city, and, drinking water excepted, the doctor has done everything he could to live happy; he dances and sings at the assemblies most charmingly.

The gentlemen who, I hope, will go to France, have orders to go to head-quarters; and I flatter myself, my dear general, that you will write me by them. I beg you will let the bearer of this, Captain la Colombe, know that I recommend him to your excellency for the commission of major.

Be so kind, my dear general, as to present my best respects to your lady and the gentlemen of your family. I hope you will quietly enjoy the pleasure of being with Mrs. Washington, without any disturbance from the enemy, till I join you again; I also hope you will approve of my sailing, which, indeed, was urged by necessity, after waiting so long.

Farewell, my most beloved general; it is not without emotion, I bid you this last adieu, before so long a separation. Don't forget an absent friend, and believe me for ever and ever, with the highest respect and tenderest affection.

On board the Alliance, 10th January, 1779.

I open again my letter, my dear general, to let you know that I am not yet gone, but if the wind proves fair, I shall sail to-morrow. Nothing from Philadelphia; nothing from head-quarters. So that everybody, as well as myself, is of opinion that I should be wrong to wait any longer. I hope I am right, and I hope to hear soon from you. Adieu, my dear, and for ever beloved friend,—adieu!

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

On board the Alliance, off Boston, 11th Jan., 1779

The sails are just going to be hoisted, my dear general, and I have but time to take my last leave of you. I may now be certain that congress did not intend to send anything more by me. The navy board and Mr. Nevil write me this very morning from Boston, that the North River is passable; that a gentleman from camp says, he did not hear of anything like an express for me. All agree for certain that congress think I am gone, and that the sooner I go the better.

Farewell, my dear general; 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 for ever, my dear general, your respectful and sincere friend.

SECOND VOYAGE TO AMERICA, AND CAMPAIGNS OF 1780 & 1781.

HISTORICAL MEMOIRS OF 1779, 1780, & 1781.~{1}

Lafayette, who quitted France as a rebel and fugitive, returned there triumphant and in favour. He was scarcely punished by a week's arrest for his disobedience to the King, and that was only after he had had a conversation with the first minister, Maurepas. Lafayette found himself the connecting link between the United States and France; he enjoyed the confidence of both countries and both governments. His favour at court and in society was employed in serving the cause of the Americans, in destroying the false impressions that were endeavoured to be raised against them, and in obtaining for them succours of every kind. He experienced, however, many difficulties; the friends of the Austrian alliance saw, with displeasure, that that war would cause the refusal of the forty thousand auxiliaries stipulated by the treaty of Vienna; the French ministry already feared the too great aggrandisement of the United States, and decidedly refused the conquest of Canada, on pretence that before a fourteenth state was added to those that had already declared themselves independent, it was necessary first to deliver the thirteen from the yoke of the English. M. Neckar feared everything that could either increase the expense of the war or prolong it. Maurepas himself, who had been reluctantly led into it, was completely weary of it; he hoped to obtain peace by making an attempt on England. Lafayette, taking advantage of this idea, had organized an expedition, in which the celebrated Paul Jones was to command the marines, and of which the object was to transport a body of troops, bearing the American banner, upon the coast of England, and levy contributions to supply the Americans with the money that could not be drawn from the treasury of France. Liverpool and some other towns would have been justly punished for the part they had taken in the vexations exercised against the colonies, to whom they were indebted for their prosperity; but the economy and timidity of the French ministers made this undertaking fail. Lafayette, despairing of the success of the Canada expedition, took a step that was undoubtedly a bold one, but which was quite justified by the issue. He had been enjoined not to ask for French auxiliary troops for the United States, because the popular feeling of jealousy against foreigners, and especially against Frenchmen, not only rendered the congress itself averse to this project, but made them believe it would excite general anxiety and discontent. Lafayette foresaw that before the succour could be ready, the United States would feel its necessity, and that it might arrive, as did actually occur, in a decisive moment for the safety of the cause. He took, therefore, upon himself, not being able to obtain troops for Canada, to solicit, in the name of the congress, what he had been positively forbidden to ask, a succour of auxiliary troops sent to a port of the United States, and he made choice of that of Rhode Island which, having been evacuated by the English, and being in an Island suitable for defence, was more likely than any other to obviate all kinds of difficulties. He obtained the promise of six thousand men, but four thousand only were afterwards sent, under Count Rochambeau: however trifling that number might appear, Lafayette knew that, by employing young officers of the court, and drawing the attention of the French upon that little corps, the ministers would sooner or later be obliged to render it of use by obtaining a decided naval superiority upon the American coast, which was Lafayette's principal object, and which it was very difficult to obtain, owing to other plans of operation; in fact, that naval superiority was never established until 1781, and then lasted but for a few weeks: events have since proved how right Lafayette was to speak every day of its necessity. The corps which had been granted were not in readiness to sail until the beginning of the year 1780. Lafayette in the meantime was employed in the staff of the army which was preparing for a descent on England, under the orders of the Marshal de Vaux. It was then that Dr. Franklin's grandson presented him officially with the sword that congress had decreed to him. Upon that sword were represented Monmouth, Barren Hill, Gloucester, and Rhode Island; America, delivered from her chains, was offering a branch of laurel to a youthful warrior; the same warrior was represented inflicting a mortal wound upon the British lion. Franklin had placed in another part an ingenious device for America; it was a crescent, with these words: Crescam ut prosim; on the other side was the device, Cur non? which the youth himself had adopted when he first set out for America.

Lafayette, at the end of the campaign, renewed his efforts to obtain the fulfilment of the hopes which had been given him; he succeeded in gaining pecuniary succours, which were placed at the disposal of General Washington, for it was upon that general that reposed the whole confidence of the government, and the hopes of the French nation. Clothing for the army had been promised also, but that remained behind with the two thousand men which were to have completed the corps of Rochambeau; and Admiral Ternay, instead of bringing, as he ought to have done, a stronger naval force than the enemy had brought, set sail for Rhode Island with seven vessels. This expedition was kept very secret;~{2} Lafayette had preceded it on board the French frigate the Hermione; he arrived at Boston before the Americans and English had the least knowledge of that auxiliary reinforcement.

(1780.) The arrival of Lafayette at Boston produced the liveliest sensation, which was entirely owing to his own popularity, for no one yet knew what he had obtained for the United States. Every person ran to the shore; he was received with the loudest acclamations, and carried in triumph to the house of Governor Hancock, from whence he set out for head-quarters. Washington learnt, with great emotion, of the arrival of his young friend. It was observed that on receiving the despatch which announced to him this event, his eyes filled with tears of joy, and those who are acquainted with the disposition of Washington, will consider this as a certain proof of a truly paternal love. Lafayette was welcomed with the greatest joy by the army; he was beloved both by officers and soldiers, and felt the sincerest affection for them in return. After the first pleasure of their meeting was over, General Washington and he retired into a private room to talk over the present state of affairs. The situation of the army was a very bad one; it was in want of money, and it was become almost impossible to raise recruits; in short, some event was necessary to restore the energy of the different states, and give the army an opportunity of displaying its vigour. It was then that Lafayette announced to the commander-in-chief what had been done, and the succours which might soon be expected to arrive. General Washington felt the importance of this good news, and considered it as deciding the successful issue of their affairs. All the necessary preparations were made: the secret was well kept, although steps were obliged to be taken for the arrival of the troops, who landed safely at Rhode Island, and who, in spite of their long inaction, formed a necessary and powerful force to oppose to the English army.

During the campaign of 1780, the French corps remained at Rhode Island. After the defeat of Gates, Greene went to command in Carolina; Arnold was placed at West Point; the principal army, under the immediate orders of Washington, had for its front guard the light infantry of Lafayette, to which was joined the corps of the excellent partisan, Colonel Lee. This is the proper time to speak of that light infantry. The American troops had no grenadiers; their chasseurs, or riflemen, formed a distinct regiment, under the orders of the colonel, since Brigadier-General Morgan, and had been taken, not from different corps, but from parts of the country on the frontiers of the savage tribes, and from amongst men whose mode of life, and skill in firing their long carabines, rendered them peculiarly useful in that service. But the regiments of the line supplied some chosen men, whose officers were also all picked men, and who formed a select band of about two thousand, under the orders of Lafayette. The mutual attachment of that corps and its head had become even a proverb in America. As a traveller brings from distant countries presents to his family and friends, he had brought from France the value of a large sum of money in ornaments for the soldiers, swords for the officers and under officers, and banners~{3} for the battalions. This troop of chosen men, well exercised and disciplined, although badly clothed, were easily recognised by their red and black plumes, and had an excellent and a very pleasing appearance. But, except the few things which M. de Lafayette himself supplied, none of the things France had promised to send arrived: the money she lent proved, however, of essential service to the army.

During that year, a conference took place at Hartford, in Connecticut, between the French generals and General Washington, accompanied by General Lafayette and General Knox; they resolved to send the American Colonel Laurens, charged to solicit new succours, and above all, a superiority of force in the navy. On their return from this conference, the conspiracy of Arnold was discovered. General Washington would still have found that general in his quarters; if chance, or rather the desire of showing Lafayette the fort of West Point, constructed during his absence, had not induced him to repair thither before proceeding to Robinson's house, in which General Arnold then resided.~{4}

It is impossible to express too much respect or too deep regret for Major André. The fourteen general officers who had the painful task of Historians have rendered a detailed account of the treachery of Arnold. When, at his own request, the command of West Point was confided to him, he urged General Washington to inform him what means of information he possessed at New York. He made the same request to Lafayette, who accidentally had several upon his own account, and to the other officers who commanded near the enemy's lines. All these generals fortunately considered themselves bound by the promise of secrecy they had made, especially as several of the correspondents acted from a feeling of patriotism only. If Arnold had succeeded in discovering them, those unfortunate persons would have been ruined, and all means of communication cut off.

Arnold was very near receiving the letter of Lieutenant-Colonel Jameson in the presence of the commander-in-chief: he had turned aside, with Lafayette and Knox, to look at a redoubt; Hamilton pronouncing his sentence, the commander-in-chief, and the whole American army; were filled with sentiments of admiration and compassion for him. The conduct of the English in a preceding circumstance had been far from, being similar. Captain Hale, of Connecticut, a distinguished young man, beloved by his family and friends, had been taken on Long Island, under circumstances of the same kind as those that occasioned the death of Major André; but, instead of being treated with the like respect, to which Major André himself bore testimony, Captain Hale was insulted to the last moment of his life. "This is a fine death for a soldier!" said one of the English officers who were surrounding the cart of execution. "Sir," replied Hale lifting up his cap, "there is no death which would not be rendered noble in such a glorious cause." He calmly replaced his cap, and the fatal cart moving on, he died with the most perfect composure.

During the winter, there was a revolt in the Pennsylvanian line. Lafayette was at Philadelphia; the congress, and the executive power of the state, knowing his influence over the troops, induced him to proceed thither with General Saint Clair. They were received by the troops with marked respect, and they listened to their complaints, which were but too well grounded. General Wayne was in the midst of them, and had undertaken a negotiation in concert with the state of Pennsylvania. Lafayette had only, therefore, to repair to head quarters. The discontent of the Pennsylvanians was appeased by the measures of conciliation which had been already begun; but the same kind of revolt in a Jersey brigade was suppressed with more vigour by the general-in-chief, who, setting out with some battalions of Lafayette's light infantry, brought the mutineers to reason, and the generals, no longer restrained by the interference of the civil authority, re-established immediately that military discipline which was on the point of being lost.~{6}

(1781.) General Arnold was at Portsmouth in Virginia; Washington formed the project of combining with the French to attack him, and take the garrison. Lafayette set out from the head quarters with twelve hundred of the light infantry; he pretended to make an attack on Staten Island, and marching rapidly by Philadelphia to Head-of-Elk, he embarked with his men in some small boats, and arrived safely at Annapolis. He set out from thence in a canoe, with some officers, and, in spite of the English frigates that were stationed in the bay, he repaired to Williamsburg, to assemble the militia, whilst his detachment was still waiting for the escort which the French were to send him. Lafayette had already blockaded Portsmouth, and driven back the enemy's picquets, when the issue of the combat between Admiral Arbuthnot and M. Destouches, the commander of the French squadron, left the English complete masters of the Chesapeake. Lafayette could only then return to Annapolis, to re-conduct his detachment to the camp. He found himself blockaded by small English frigates, which were much too considerable in point of force for his boats; but having placed cannon on some merchant ships, and embarked troops in them, he, by that manoeuvre, made the English frigates retreat, and taking advantage of a favourable wind, he reached with his men the Head-of-Elk, where he received some very important despatches from General Washington: The enemy's plan of campaign was just at that time become known: Virginia was to be its object. General Phillips had left New York with a corps of troops to reinforce Arnold. The general wrote to Lafayette to go to the succour of Virginia. The task was not an easy one; the men whom he commanded had engaged themselves for a short expedition: they belonged to the northern states, which still retained strong prejudices as to the unhealthiness of the southern states; they had neither shirts nor shoes. Some Baltimore merchants lent Lafayette, on his bill, two thousand guineas, which sufficed to buy some linen. The ladies of Baltimore, whom he met with at a ball given in his honour when he passed through the town, undertook to make the shirts themselves. The young men of the same city formed themselves into a company of volunteer dragoons. His corps were beginning to desert. Lafayette issued an order, declaring that he was setting out for a difficult and dangerous expedition; that he hoped that the soldiers would not abandon him, but that whoever wished to go away might do so instantly; and he sent away two soldiers who had just been punished for some serious offences. From that hour all desertions ceased, and not one man would leave him: this feeling was so strong, that an under officer, who was prevented by a diseased leg from following the detachment, hired, at his own expense, a cart, rather than separate from it. This anecdote is honourable to the American troops, and deserves to become publicly known.

Lafayette had conceived that the capital of Virginia would be the principal object of the enemy's attack. Richmond was filled with magazines; its pillage would have proved fatal to the cause. Lafayette marched thither with such rapidity, that when General Phillips, arriving before Richmond, learnt that Lafayette had arrived there the night before, he would not believe it. Having ascertained, however, the truth of the report, he dared not attack the heights of Richmond. Lafayette had a convoy to send to the southern states; he reconnoitred Petersburg carefully. This threatened attack assembled the English, and whilst the removing of cannon, and other preparations for an assault, amused them, the convoy was sent off rapidly with the munition and clothes which General Greene required. After the death of General Phillips, who died that same day, Arnold wrote, by a flag of truce, to Lafayette, who refused to receive his letter. He sent for the English officer, and, with many expressions of respect for the British army, told him that he could not consent to hold any correspondence with its present general. This refusal gave great pleasure to General Washington and the public, and placed Arnold in an awkward situation with his own army.

Lord Cornwallis, on entering Virginia by Carolina, got rid of all his equipage, and did the same also respecting the heavy baggage of the army under his orders. Lafayette placed himself under the same regimen, and, during the whole of that campaign, the two armies slept without any shelter, and only carried absolute necessaries with them. Upon that active and decisive conflict the issue of the war was to depend; for if the English, who bore all the force of the campaign on that point, became masters of Virginia, not only the army of Lafayette, but also that of Greene, who drew from thence all his resources,—and not only Virginia, but all the states south of the Chesapeake, would inevitably be lost. Thus the letters of the commander-in-chief, whilst telling Lafayette that he did not deceive himself as to the difficulties of the undertaking, merely requested him to prolong as much as possible the defence of the state. The result was far more successful than any person had dared to hope, at a period when all eyes and all thoughts were directed towards that one decisive point.

The military scene in Virginia was soon to become more interesting. General Greene had marched to the right, to attack the posts of South Carolina, whilst Lord Cornwallis was in North Carolina. Cornwallis allowed him to depart, and, marching also to the right, burnt his own equipage and tents, to be enabled to remove more easily; he then advanced rapidly towards Petersburg, and made Virginia the principal seat of war. General Washington wrote to Lafayette that he could send him no other reinforcement than eight hundred of the mutinous Pennsylvanians, who had been formed again into a corps on the side of Lancaster. Lord Cornwallis had obtained, and generally by the aid of negroes, the best horses in Virginia. His Tarleton front guard, mounted on race horses, stopped, like birds of prey, all they met with. The active corps of Cornwallis was composed of more than four thousand men, of which eight hundred were supplied with horses. The command was divided in the following manner: General Rochambeau remained at Rhode Island with his French corps; Washington commanded in person the American troops before New York; he summoned, some time after, the corps of Rochambeau to join him. That French lieutenant-general was under his orders the same as the American major-generals, for when Lafayette asked for the succour of troops, he took care to stipulate, in the most positive manner, that it was to be placed entirely under Washington's orders. The Americans were to have the right side; the American officer, when rank and age were equal, was to command the French officer. Lafayette had wished to give the rising republic all the advantages and all the consequence of the greatest and longest established powers. Washington had sent, the preceding year, General Greene to command in the southern states; Virginia was nominally comprised in that command, and had not yet become the theatre of war, but the distance between the operations of Carolina and those of Virginia was so great, and the communications were so difficult, that it was impossible for Greene to direct what was passing in Virginia. Lafayette took, therefore, the chief command, corresponding in a direct manner with General Washington, and occasionally with the congress. But he wished that Greene should retain his title of supremacy, and he only sent to the head quarters copies of General Greene's letters, who was his intimate friend, in the same way that both he and Greene had always been on the most intimate footing with General Washington. During the whole of this campaign the most perfect harmony always subsisted between the generals, and contributed much to the success of the enterprise.

Lafayette, after having saved the magazines of Richmond, hastened to have them evacuated; he had taken his station at Osborn, and wrote to General Washington that he would remain there, as long as his weakest point, which was the left, should not be threatened with an attack. Lord Cornwallis did not fail soon to perceive the weakness of that point, and Lafayette retreated with his little corps, which, including recruits and the militia, did not exceed two thousand five hundred men. The richest young men of Virginia and Maryland had come to join him as volunteer dragoons, and from their intelligence, as well as from the superiority of their horses, they had been of essential service to him. The Americans retreated in such a manner that the front guard of the enemy arrived on the spot just as they had quitted it, and, without running any risk themselves, they retarded as much as possible its progress. Wayne was advancing with the reinforcement of Pennsylvanians. Lafayette made all his calculations so as to be able to effect a junction with that corps, without being prevented from covering the military magazines of the southern states, which were at the foot of the mountains on the height of Fluvana. But the Pennsylvanians had delayed their movements, and Lafayette was thus obliged to make a choice. He went to rejoin his reinforcement at Raccoon-Ford, and hastened, by forced marches, to come into contact with Lord Cornwallis, who had had time to make one detachment at Charlottesville, and another at the James River Fork. The first had dispersed the Virginian assembly; the second had done no material injury; but the principal blow was to be struck: Lord Cornwallis was established in a good position, within one march of the magazines, when Lafayette arrived close to him on a road leading towards those magazines. It was necessary for him to pass before the English army, presenting them his flank, and exposing himself to a certain defeat: he fortunately found out a shorter road which had remained for a long time undiscovered, which he repaired during the night; and the next day, to the great surprise of the English general, he was established in an impregnable station, between the English and the magazines, whose loss must have occasioned that of the whole southern army, of whom they were the sole resource; for there was a road behind the mountains that the English never intercepted, and by which the wants of General Greene's army were supplied. Lord Cornwallis, when he commenced the pursuit of Lafayette, had written a letter, which was intercepted, in which he made use of this expression: The boy cannot escape me. He flattered himself with terminating, by that one blow, the war in the whole southern part of the United States, for it would have been easy for him afterwards to take possession of Baltimore, and march towards Philadelphia. He beheld in this manner the failure of the principal part of his plan, and retreated towards Richmond, whilst Lafayette, who had been joined in his new station by a corps of riflemen, as well as by some militia, received notice beforehand to proceed forward on a certain day, and followed, step by step, the English general, without, however, risking an engagement with a force so superior to his own. His corps gradually increased. Lord Cornwallis thought proper to evacuate Richmond; Lafayette followed him, and ordered Colonel Butler to attack his rear guard near Williamsburg. Some manoeuvre took place on that side, of which the principal object on Lafayette's part was, to convince Lord Cornwallis that his force was more considerable than it was in reality. The English evacuated Williamsburg, and passed over James River to James Island. A warm action took place between the English army and the advance guard, whom Lafayette had ordered to the attack whilst they were crossing the river. Lord Cornwallis had stationed the first troops on the other side, to give the appearance as if the greatest number of the troops had already passed over the river. Although all were unanimous in asserting that this was the case, Lafayette himself suspected the deception, and quitted his detachment to make observations upon a tongue of land, from whence he could more easily view the passage of the enemy. During that time, a piece of cannon, exposed, doubtless, intentionally, tempted General Wayne, a brave and very enterprising officer.

Lafayette found, on his return, the advance guard engaged in action with a very superior force; he withdrew it, however (after a short but extremely warm conflict), in good order, and without receiving a check. The report was spread that he had had a horse killed under him, but it was merely the one that was led by his side.~{7}

The English army pursued its route to Portsmouth; it then returned by water to take its station at Yorktown and Gloucester, upon the York River. A garrison still remained at Portsmouth. Lafayette made some demonstrations of attack, and that garrison united itself to the body of the army at Yorktown.

Lafayette was extremely desirous that the English army should unite at that very spot. Such had been the aim of all his movements, ever since a slight increase of force had permitted him to think of any other thing than of retiring without being destroyed and of saving the magazines. He knew that a French fleet was to arrive from the islands upon the American coast. His principal object had been to force Lord Cornwallis to withdraw towards the sea-shore, and then entangle him in such a manner in the rivers, that there should remain no possibility of a retreat. The English, on the contrary, fancied themselves in a very good position, as they were possessors of a sea-port by which they could receive succours from New York, and communicate with the different parts of the coast. An accidental, but a very fortunate circumstance, increased their security. Whilst Lafayette, full of hope, was writing to General Washington that he foresaw he could push Lord Cornwallis into a situation in which it would be easy for him, with some assistance from the navy, to cut off his retreat, the general, who had always thought that Lafayette would be very fortunate if he could save Virginia without being cut up himself, spoke to him of his project of attack against New York, granting him permission to come and take part in it, if he wished it, but representing how useful it was to the Virginian army that he should remain at its head. The two letters passed each other; the one written by Lafayette arrived safely, and Washington prepared beforehand to take advantage of the situation of Lord Cornwallis. Gen. Washington's letter was intercepted, and the English, upon seeing that confidential communication, never doubted for a moment but the real intention of the Americans was to attack New York: their own security at Yorktown was therefore complete.~{8}

The Count de Grasse, however, arrived with a naval force, and three thousand troops~{9} for the land service. He was met at the landing place of Cape Henry by Colonel Gimat, a Frenchman by birth, commander of the American battalion, who was charged with despatches from Lafayette; which explained fully to the admiral his own military position, and that of the enemy, and conjured him to sail immediately into the Chesapeake; to drive the frigates into the James River, that the passage might be kept clear; to blockade the York River; to send two vessels above the position of Lord Cornwallis, before the batteries on the water-side, at Yorktown and Gloucester could be put in a proper state. The Count de Grasse adhered to these proposals, with the exception of not forcing the batteries with two vessels, which manoeuvre would have made the blockade of Cornwallis by the land troops still more easy of achievement. The Marquis de St. Simon landed with three thousand men at James Island. Lafayette assembled a small corps in the county of Gloucester, led, himself, the American forces on Williamsburg, where he was met by the corps of the Marquis de St. Simon, who came to range themselves under his orders, so that Lord Cornwallis found himself suddenly, as if by enchantment, blockaded both by sea and land. The combined army, under the orders of Lafayette, was placed in an excellent situation at Williamsburg. It was impossible to arrive there except by two difficult and well-defended passages. Lord Cornwallis presented himself before them in the hope of escaping, by making a forcible attack; but having ascertained the impossibility of forcing them, he only occupied himself with finishing speedily the fortifications of Yorktown; his hopes, however, declined, when the Count de Grasse, having only left the ships necessary for the blockade, and having gone out of the harbour to attack Admiral Graves, forced the English to retire, and returned to his former station in the bay. The French admiral was, however, impatient to return to the islands; he wished that Yorktown should be taken by force of arms. The Marquis de St. Simon was of the same opinion; they both represented strongly to Lafayette that it was just, after such a long, fatiguing, and fortunate campaign, that the glory of making Cornwallis lay down his arms should belong to him who had reduced him to that situation. The admiral offered to send to the attack not only the garrisons from the ships, but all the sailors he should ask for. Lafayette was deaf to this proposal, and answered, that General Washington and the corps of General Rochambeau would soon arrive, and that it was far better to hasten their movements than act without them; and, by making a murderous attack, shed a great deal of blood from a feeling of vanity and a selfish love of glory; that they were certain, after the arrival of the succours, of taking the hostile army by a regular attack, and thus spare the lives of the soldiers; which a good general ought always to respect as much as possible, especially in a country where it was so difficult to obtain others to replace those who fell. General Washington and Count Rochambeau were the first to arrive; they were soon followed by their troops; but, at the same moment, the Admiral de Grasse wrote word that he was obliged to return to the islands. The whole expedition seemed on the point of failing, and General Washington begged Lafayette to go on board the admiral's ship in the bay, and endeavour to persuade him to change his mind: he succeeded, and the siege of Yorktown was begun. The Count de Rochambeau commanded the French, including the corps of St. Simon; the Americans were divided in two parts; one, under Major-general Lincoln, who had come from the north with some troops; the other, under General Lafayette, who had been joined by two more battalions of light infantry, under the orders of Colonel Hamilton. It became necessary to attack two redoubts. One of these attacks was confided to the Baron de Viomenil, the other to General Lafayette. The former had expressed, in a somewhat boasting manner, the idea he had of the superiority of the French in an attack of that kind; Lafayette, a little offended, answered, "We are but young soldiers, and we have but one sort of tactic on such occasions, which is, to discharge our muskets, and push on straight with our bayonets." He led on the American troops, of whom he gave the command to Colonel Hamilton, with the Colonels Laurens and Gimat under him. The American troops took the redoubt with the bayonet. As the firing was still continued on the French side, Lafayette sent an aide-de-camp to the Baron de Viomenil, to ask whether he did not require some succour from the Americans;~{10} but the French were not long in taking possession also of the other redoubt, and that success decided soon after the capitulation of Lord Cornwallis, (19th October, 1781.) Nor must the mention of an action be omitted here which was honourable to the humanity of the Americans. The English had disgraced themselves several times, and again recently at New London, by the murder of some imprisoned garrisons. The detachment of Colonel Hamilton did not for an instant make an ill use of their victory; as soon as the enemy deposed their arms, they no longer received the slightest injury. Colonel Hamilton distinguished himself very much in that attack.~{11}

Lord Cornwallis had demanded, in the capitulation, the permission of marching out with drums beating and colours flying; the Count de Rochambeau and the French officers were of opinion that this request ought to be granted; the American generals did not oppose this idea; Lafayette, recollecting that the same enemy had required General Lincoln, at the capitulation of Charlestown, to furl the American colours and not to play an English march, insisted strongly on using the same measures with them in retaliation, and obtained that these two precise conditions should be inserted in the capitulation. Lord Cornwallis did not himself file out with the detachment. The Generals, Washington, Rochambeau, and Lafayette, sent to present him their compliments by their aides-de-camp. He retained Lafayette's aide-de-camp, young George Washington, and told him that having made this long campaign against General Lafayette, he wished, from the value he annexed to that general's esteem, to give him a private account of the motives which had obliged him to surrender. He told him several things which have since been found in his discussion with General Clinton. Lafayette went the next day to see him. "I know," said Lord Cornwallis, "your humanity towards prisoners, and I recommend my poor army to you." This recommendation was made in a tone which implied that in Lafayette alone he felt real confidence, and placed but little in the Americans. Lafayette therefore replied, "You know, my lord, that the Americans have always been humane towards imprisoned armies;" in allusion to the taking of General Burgoyne at Saratoga.~{12} The English army was in fact treated with every possible mark of attention.

Although the French troops held in every respect the place of auxiliary troops, yet the Americans always yielded them every preference in their power relating to food or any other comfort. It is a singular circumstance that when the troops of the~{13} the young general, although a Frenchman, took upon himself to order that no flour should be delivered to the American troops until the French had received their full provision for three days. The Americans had therefore seldom any thing but the flour of Indian corn. He gave the horses of the gentlemen of that country to the French hussars, and the superior officers themselves were obliged to give up theirs: yet not one murmur escaped as to that preference, which the Americans felt ought to be shewn to foreigners who came from such a distance to fight in their cause.~{14}

The news of the capture of Yorktown was carried to France by a French frigate, who made the voyage in eighteen days. The English were thrown into consternation at that news, which occasioned the downfall of the ministry of Lord North. It was felt in London, as in the rest of all Europe, that the decisive check the English had received, had completely settled the final issue of the conflict, and from that period nothing was thought of but to acknowledge the independence of the United States on favourable terms for Great Britain.

Generals Washington and Lafayette wished to take advantage of the superiority of the Count de Grasse in order to attack Charlestown, and the English who remained in the southern states. Lafayette was to take his light infantry, as well as the corps of St. Simon, and land on the Charlestown side, to co-operate with General Greene, who still commanded in Carolina. It is evident that this project would have been successful. It has since become known that Lord Cornwallis, when he saw Lafayette enter into a canoe to go on board the fleet of the Count de Grasse, said to some English officers, "He is going to decide the loss of Charlestown." But the admiral refused obstinately to make any operation upon the coast of North America.~{15}

General Lafayette afterwards repaired to congress. To him, who was then but four-and-twenty, the happy issue of that campaign was as flattering a success as it had been decisive to the American cause. He received the instructions of congress, in relation to the affairs of the United States in Europe; and embarked at Boston in the frigate the Alliance. He reached France in twenty-three days. The reception he met with, and the credit he enjoyed both at court and in society were constantly and usefully employed in the service of the cause he had embraced.

Endnotes:

1. These Memoirs are extracted from the American Biography of M. de Lafayette, written by himself, which we have designated under the name of Manuscript, No. 1. We have completed them by extracts of Manuscript, No. 2, which contains observations on the historians of America.

2. It was settled that that corps of six thousand men, commanded by Lieutenant-General Rochambeau, was to be completely under the orders of the American commander-in-chief, and was only to form a division of his army. The order of service was regulated in such a manner that the French were only to be looked upon as auxiliaries, keeping the left of the American troops, and the command belonging, when there was equality, of rank and age, to the American officers. In a word, the advantages to be derived by the government, the general, and the American soldiers, were stipulated beforehand in such a manner as to prevent all future discussions. (Manuscript, No. 2.)

3. Upon one of these banners a cannon was painted, with this device: Ultima ratio, suppressing the word regum, which is used in Europe; upon another, a crown of laurel united to a civic crown, with the device—No other. And thus with the other emblems.—(Note de M. de Lafayette.)

4. West Point, a fort on a tongue of land which advances upon the Hudson, and governs its whole navigation, is such an important position that it is called by an historian the Gibraltar of America. Arnold had been entrusted with its command, and his treachery, if it had proved successful, and been even attended with no other result but that of yielding up this fort to the enemy, would have inflicted a deadly wound upon the cause of the United States. He had entered, during eighteen months, into a secret relation with Sir Henry Clinton, who confided the whole charge of that affair to an aide-de-camp, Major André. Arnold failed at an appointment for the first interview with André the 11th September, at Dobb's Ferry. A second one was proposed on board the sloop of war the Vulture, which Clinton sent for that purpose, on the 16th, to Teller's Point, about fifteen or twenty miles below West Point. General Washington, who was repairing, with M. de Lafayette, to the Hartford conference, crossed the Hudson the 18th, and saw Arnold, who shewed him a letter from Colonel Robinson, on board the Vulture, which stated that that officer requested a rendezvous with him to converse upon some private affairs. Washington told him to refuse the rendezvous. Arnold then made arrangements for a private interview. Major André quitted New York, came on board the sloop, and from thence proceeded, with a false passport, to Long Clove, where he saw Arnold, the night of the 21st. They separated the next morning. André, on his return to New York, was taken at Tarry Town, by three of the militia, and conducted to the post of North Castle, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Jameson, who gave notice of this event, on the 23d, to his superior officer, General Arnold. The latter received the letter on the 25th, the same day on which he expected General Washington on his return from Hartford. He fled immediately; a few minutes after the general-in-chief arrived, and he received, only four hours later, the despatches which apprised him of the plot—(Washington's, Writings, vol. vii. Appendix No. 7.) and Mac-Henry, lieutenant-colonels, the one aid-de-camp to Washington, the other to Lafayette, had gone on before to request Mrs. Arnold not to wait breakfast for them. They were still there, and Arnold with them, when he received the note: he turned pale, retired to his own room, and sent for his wife, who fainted. In that state he left her, without any one perceiving it: he did not return into the drawing room, but got upon his aide-de-camp's horse, which was ready saddled at the door, and desiring him to inform the general that he would wait for him at West Point, hurried to the bank of the river, got into his canoe, and was rowed to the Vulture. The general, when he learnt on his arrival that Arnold was at West Point, fancied that he had gone to prepare for his reception there, and without entering into the house, stepped into a boat with the two generals who accompanied him. When they arrived at the opposite shore, they were astonished at finding they were not expected: the mystery was only explained on their return, because the despatches of Lieutenant-Colonel Jameson had arrived in the interim.

An historian has spoken of the generosity with which Mrs. Arnold was treated. It is, in truth, highly honourable to the American character that, during the first effervescence of indignation against her husband, she was able to go to Philadelphia, take her effects, and proceed with a flag of truce to New York, without meeting with the slightest insult. The same historian (Mr. Marshall) might have added that, the very evening of Arnold's evasion, the general, having received from him a very insolent letter, dated on board the Vulture, ordered one of his aides-de-camp to tell Mrs. Arnold, who was in an agony of terror, that he had done everything he could to seize her husband, but that, not having been able to do so, he felt pleasure in informing her that her husband was safe.~{5}

5. General Arnold is the only American officer who ever thought of making use of his command to increase the fortune. The disinterestedness of those soldiers, during a period of revolution, which facilitates abuses, forms a singular contrast with the reproach of avidity that other governments, who have not shown the same moderation themselves, have thought proper to make against the citizens of the United States. The generals and American officers have almost all of them fought at their own expense; the affairs of many of them have been ruined by their absence. Those who had professions lost the power of exercising them. It has been proved, by accounts exacted in France during times of terror and proscription, that Lafayette had spent in the service of the American revolution, independent of his income, more than seven hundred thousand francs of his capital. The conduct of Washington was even more simple, and according to our opinion, more praiseworthy: he would neither accept the profit of emolument, nor the pride of sacrifice; he was paid for all necessary expenses, and, without increasing his fortune, only lessened it, from the injury it unavoidably received from his absence. Whilst all the American officers conducted themselves with the most patriotic disinterestedness, and all the pretensions of the army were satisfied with the compensation of seven years pay, we can only quote the single example of the traitor Arnold, who endeavoured to draw the slightest pecuniary advantage from circumstances. Some grants of lands have been made by the southern states to Generals Greene and Wayne, and Colonel Washington, but only since the revolution. The shares of the Potomac, given also since the revolution to General Washington, were left by him in his will for the foundation of a college: in a word, we may affirm, that delicacy and disinterestedness have been universal in the American army. (Note of M. de Lafayette.)

6. The writings of that period give an account of the revolt of the soldiers of Pennsvlvania; the complaints of most of them were well founded. When General Saint Clair, Lafayette, and Laurens, repairing from Philadelphia to head quarters, stopped at Princetown, as they had been desired to do by the council of state of Pennsylvania, they found a negotiation begun by General Wayne, and Colonels Stewart and Butler, who were all three much beloved by the Pennsylvanian soldiers; committees arrived from the congress and state, to arrange the affair, not in a military, but in a civil manner: they remained but a few hours at Princetown, and the business was soon settled in the same manner in which it was commenced. But when the soldiers of the Jersey line wished to imitate the revolt of the Pennsylvanians, General Washington stifled it in its birth by vigorous measures. But it should be added that the sufferings and disappointments of that brave and virtuous army were sufficient to weary the patience of any human being: the conduct of the continental troops, during the revolution, has been, in truth, most admirable.

7. Mr. Marshall relates the affair of Jamestown. There were no militia present, except the riflemen, who were placed in advance in the wood. They threw down successively three commandants of the advance post, placed there by Cornwallis, that what was passing behind might not be seen. This obstinacy in covering the position excited the suspicion of Lafayette, in spite of the unanimous opinion that a rear guard was alone remaining there. As soon as he saw, from the projecting tongue of land, that those who had crossed over were placed in such a manner as to appear numerous, he returned with all possible haste; but General Wayne had yielded to the temptation. He fortunately perceived his error, and being a good and brave officer, came forward with much gallantry; fortunately, also, Lafayette had only placed the Pennsylvanians in advance, and had left the light infantry in a situation to offer them some assistance. The first half of his continental troops retired upon the other half, and the whole were placed in such a manner that Lord Cornwallis feared an ambuscade, and the more so, observes Mr. Marshall, as he had always been deceived as to the real force of Lafayette's army.—(Manuscript, No. 2.)

8. James Moody rendered an ill service to those who employed him, by seizing the letter-bag in the Jerseys. Among the letters, those in which General Washington informed Lafayette of the project respecting New York, contained friendly and confidential communications, written in the General's own hand, which could not leave the slightest doubt in any person's mind: they may be found in the publications of the Generals Clinton and Cornwallis, which contain also Lafayette's intercepted letters. But the enemy did not take those in which General Lafayette gave an account to General Washington of his manoeuvres, of his hopes, and of all that determined the commander-in-chief to adopt the project on Virginia, nor Washington's answers to that effect; so that when the combined troops made their first march towards the south, General Clinton still remained deceived, owing to the singular chance of the capture of the letter-bag by Moody.—(Manuscript, No. 2.)

9. The entreaties of Count de Rochambeau contributed much towards persuading the Count de Grasse to bring his whole fleet, to land there the three thousand two hundred men, who joined, on their arrival, the army of Lafayette, and to repair immediately to Cape Henry, in Virginia. This is one more obligation which the common cause of the allies owes to General Rochambeau, who, from his talents, experience, moderation, and his subordination to the general-in-chief, respect for the civil power, and maintenance of discipline, proved that the King of France had made an excellent choice for the command of the auxiliary corps sent to the United States. (Note of M. de Lafayette.)

10. The French were much struck on this occasion by the extreme coolness of one of the officers whom Lafayette sent to the Baron de Viomenil, from a secret feeling of pleasure, perhaps, in marking how much the present comparison stood in favour of the American troops. However this might be, Major Barber received a contusion in his side, but would not allow his wound to be dressed until he had executed his commission.—(Manuscript, No. 2.)

11. The humanity of the American soldiers in that assault has been attested by all historians. The following letter must be quoted:—

TO THE EDITOR OF THE EVENING POST.

New York, August 10, 1802.

Sir,—Finding that a story, long since propagated, under circumstances which it was expected would soon consign it to oblivion, (and by which I have been complimented at the expense of Generals Washington and Lafayette,) has of late been revived, and has acquired a degree of importance by being repeated in different publications, as well in Europe as America, it becomes a duty to counteract its currency and influence by an explicit disavowal.

The story imports, in substance, that General Lafayette, with the approbation or connivance of General Washington, ordered me, as the officer who was to command the attack on a British redoubt, in the course of the siege of Yorktown, to put to death all those of the enemy who should happen to be taken in the redoubt, and that, through motives of humanity, I forbore to execute the order.

Positively, and unequivocally, I declare, that no such order or similar order, was ever by me received, or understood to have been given, nor any intimation or hint resembling it.

It is needless to enter into an explanation of some occurrences on the occasion alluded to, which may be conjectured to have given rise to the calumny. It is enough to say, that they were entirely disconnected with any act of either of the generals who have been accused.

With esteem, I am, sir, your most obedient servant,

A. HAMILTON.

The circumstance alluded to in this letter has been related in the Life of Hamilton, published by his son. A short time before the taking of Yorktown, a Colonel Scammell, surprised by the English whilst reconnoitring, had been taken prisoner and dangerously wounded. When the redoubt was taken, and Colonel Campbell, who commanded, advanced to give himself up, a captain, who had served under Scammell, seized a bayonet, and was on the point of striking him; Hamilton turned aside the blow, and Campbell exclaimed, "I place myself under your protection," and was made prisoner by Laurens. (The Life of A. Hamilton, vol. i., chap. 14.)

12. Lord Cornwallis affected being indisposed, in order that he might not march out at the head of his troops: they passed between two rows of the American and French army, commanded by General O'Hara, and surrendered their arms at the order of General Lincoln. Each of the generals, Washington, Rochambeau, and Lafayette, sent as aide-de-camp to offer their compliments to Lord Cornwallis. He retained Lafayette's aide-de-camp, Major Washington, the nephew of General Washington, to tell him how anxious he was that the general against whom he had made this campaign should be convinced that he only surrendered from the impossibility of defending himself any longer. The American, French, and English generals visited each other, and everything passed with every possible mark of attention, especially towards Lord Cornwallis, one of the most estimable men of England, who was considered their best general. O'Hara having said one day, at table, to the French generals, affecting not to wish to be overheard by Lafayette, that he considered it as fortunate not to have been taken by the Americans alone, "General O'Hara, probably," replied Lafayette, "does not like repetitions." He had, in, fact, been taken with Burgoyne, and has since been taken for the third time at Toulon.—(Manuscript, No. 2.)

13. Marqius de St. Simon joined those of Lafayette.

14. See at the end of the volume a precise account of this whole campaign in Virginia, edited by M. de Lafayette—(Part, No. 1.)

15. General Lafayette was to have taken two thousand Americans and St. Simon's corps, who, landing near Charlestown, on the sea side, and co-operating with the troops of General Greene, would have secured the capture of the capital of Carolina, and of all the English who were remaining south of New York. Lowering their demands, they then requested that Lafayette should take the five thousand men who were at Wilmington, and who were so much struck by the dangers they had encountered, that they did not retain that post. At length, they contented themselves with asking the admiral to conduct General Wayne and his detachment, which were sent to reinforce Greene's army. He would not do so. It has also since become known, that when Lafayette, returning from his last visit to the admiral, landed at Yorktown, Lord Cornwallis, who was still there, said to his officers, "I lay a bet that he has been making arrangements for our ruin at Charlestown." The English acknowledged that the expedition could not fail; but the Count de Grasse did not think he ought to lose more time upon the North American coast, before returning to the defence of the West Indies.—(Manuscript, No. 2.)

CORRESPONDENCE.

1779-1781.

TO COUNT DE VERGENNES~{1}

Paris, 24th February, 1779.

SIR,—A desire to render an exact obedience to the orders of the king, impels me to take the liberty of importuning you to let me know what is my duty. The prohibition which the Marshal de Noailles has put upon me, makes no exception as to one, whom I do not think, nevertheless, I should be forbidden to visit. Dr. Franklin was to have met me at Versailles this morning, if I had been there, to communicate to me some affairs of importance, as he said. I have informed him of the cause that detained me at Paris; but I did not think I ought to refuse an interview, which might not be wholly useless to the king's interests. He is coming to-morrow morning, and I trust you will add to your kindnesses that of directing me how to conduct myself in this matter.

Suffer me, sir, to inform you that I have heard many persons speak of an expedition, somewhat resembling the one proposed by congress. I flatter myself I am too well known by you to have it suspected of me, that any tie of kindred or friendship could make me forget the profound secrecy which is due to affairs of state. I have added to nature some acquired skill in this particular. My sole reason for mentioning the subject, therefore, is to add, that the indiscretion of some of the members of congress, and the number of officers returning from America, will always spread rumours, which it will be impossible to suppress. Truth cannot remain hidden but by being buried in a mass of false reports. Hence, caution is necessary in order to preserve our secrets from all the inconveniences to which they are subject in America, both from the form of the government and from the character of some of those at the head of affairs. I have the honour to be, with profound respect, &c.

Endnote:

1. During this period of three years, we do not find, as in the preceding years, a great number of family letters and those of friendship. We have inserted all those we have been able to discover. In amends, more than two hundred political, diplomatic, or military letters, are in our hands. We do not publish a third of them, although there are few that would not be interesting to the historian of the American revolution. We again repeat, that all the letters to Americans, or from Americans, were written originally in English.

ROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.~{1}

(ORIGINAL.)

Camp, at Middlebrook, 8th March, 1779.

My Dear Marquis,—I am mortified exceedingly, that my letter from Philadelphia, with the several enclosures, did not reach Boston before your departure, from that port. It was written as soon as congress had come to a decision upon the several matters, which became the subject of the president's letter to you, and was committed for conveyance to the messenger, who was charged with his despatches to that place.

Monsieur la Colombe did me the honour of delivering to me your favours, and will probably be the bearer of my thanks for the affectionate manner in which you have expressed your sentiments in your last adieu, than which nothing can be more flattering and pleasing; nor is there anything more wished for by me, than opportunities of giving substantial proofs of the sincerity of my attachment and affection.

Nothing of importance has happened since you left us, except the enemy's invasion at Georgia, and possession of its capital; which, though it may add something to their supplies, on the score of provisions, will contribute very little to the brilliancy of their arms, for, like the defenceless island of St. Lucia, it only required the appearance of force to effect the conquest of it, as the whole militia of the state did not exceed twelve hundred men, and many of them disaffected. General Lincoln is assembling a force to dispossess them, and my only fear is, that he will precipitate the attempt before he is fully prepared for the execution. In New York and at Rhode Island, the enemy continued quiet till the 25th ultimo, when an attempt was made by them to surprise the post at Elizabethtown; but failing therein, and finding themselves closely pressed, and in danger from detachments advancing towards them from this army, they retreated precipitately through a marsh, waist-deep in mud, after abandoning all their plunder; but not before they had, according to their wonted custom, set fire to two or three houses. The regiment of Anspach, and some other troops, are brought from Rhode Island to New York.

We are happy in the repeated assurances and proofs of the friendship of our great and good ally, whom we hope and trust, ere this, may be congratulated on the birth of a prince, and on the joy which the nation must derive from an instance of royal felicity. We also flatter ourselves, that before this period the kings of Spain and the two Sicilies may be greeted as allies of the United States; and we are not a little pleased to find, from good authority, that the solicitations and offers of the Court of Great Britain to the Empress of Russia have been rejected; nor are we to be displeased, that overtures from the city of Amsterdam, for entering into a commercial connexion with us, have been made in such open and pointed terms. Such favourable sentiments, in so many powerful princes and states, cannot but be considered in a very honourable, interesting, and pleasing point of view, by all those who have struggled with difficulties and misfortunes to maintain the rights, and secure the liberties, of their country. But, notwithstanding these flattering appearances, the British King and his ministers continue to threaten us with war and desolation. A few months, however, must decide whether these or peace is to take place. For both we will prepare; and, should the former be continued, I shall not despair of sharing fresh toils and dangers with you in America; but if the latter succeeds, I can entertain little hopes, that the rural amusements of an infant world, or the contracted stage of an American theatre, can withdraw your attention and services from the gaieties of a court, and the active part you will more than probably be called upon to share in the administration of your government. The soldier will then be transformed into the statesman, and your employment in this new walk of life will afford you no time to revisit this continent, or think of friends who lament your absence.

The American troops are again in huts; but in a more agreeable and fertile country, than they were in last winter at Valley Forge; and they are better clad and more healthy, than they have ever been since the formation of the army. Mrs. Washington is now with me, and makes a cordial tender of her regards to you; and if those of strangers can be offered with propriety, and will be acceptable, we respectively wish to have them conveyed to your amiable lady. We hope and trust, that your passage has been short, agreeable, and safe, and that you are as happy as the smiles of a gracious Prince, beloved wife, warm friends, and high expectations, can make you. I have now complied with your request in writing you a long letter, and I shall only add, that, with the purest sentiments of attachment, and the warmest friendship and regard, I am, my dear Marquis, your most affectionate and obliged, &c.

P. S. Harrison and Meade are in Virginia. All the other officers of my staff unite most cordially in offering you their sincere compliments.

10th March, 1779.—I have this moment received the letters which were in the hands of Major Nevill, accompanying yours of the 7th and 11th of January. The Major himself has not yet arrived at head quarters, being, as I am told, very sick. I must again thank you, my dear friend, for the numerous sentiments of affection which breathe so conspicuously in your last farewell, and to assure you that I shall always retain a warm and grateful remembrance of it. Major Nevill shall have my consent to repair to France, if his health permits it, and if the sanction of congress can be obtained, to whom all applications of officers for leave to go out of the United States are referred.

Endnote:

1. We believe this letter never reached M. de Lafayette.

TO M. DE VERGENNES.

Paris, April 1st, 1779.

Sir,—From what M. de Sartine said to me, I requested M. de Chaumont yesterday to send for Captain Jones, and although the place of his present residence be unknown, our messenger will do all that can be done to bring him immediately to us. I gave him an urgent letter for Jones, and as Dr. Franklin was not at home, I left one also for him, in which I expressed our desire to see the captain, rather as if to consult him, than as if we had formed any definite project. The time I passed with M. de Chaumont enabled me to discover what I shall now have the honour of relating to you.~{1}

The armament of the Bonhomme Richard (the vessel of fifty guns) goes on as slowly as possible. The refusal to supply what is wanted, especially guns, from the king's magazines, will retard the expedition for a whole month, because it will be the same for all the other ships. The only way to obviate this delay, would be to charge one man with the whole armament, and to send him to the ports with orders to get all that was necessary.

I have discovered that Jones had a little plan for an enterprise formed under the direction of M. Garnier, and in which M. de Chaumont has taken part. The manner in which M. de Sartine brought him to us, was by making M. de Chaumont a half confidant, (the most dangerous of all things, because it gives information without binding to secrecy,) and I think it would be now better to communicate the secret of the armament without betraying that of the expedition, and desire him to employ all his activity in completing it. The other person need not, in that case, take any part in it, and according to the orders received from M. de Sartine, it appeared to me, from what M. de Chaumont said, that the Bonhomme Richard, and other vessels, if required, might be in readiness before the expiration of three weeks.

I intend to have the honour of paying my respects to you after dinner on Saturday. If you approve of my idea, M. de Chaumont, or any other person you may prefer, might be summoned at the same time; for by the ordinary method this business will never be achieved. I hope that, in, consequence of my aversion to delays in military affairs, you will pardon the importunity which my confidence in you has inspired, in favour of a project of which you feel the importance.

I have the honour to be, with the most sincere respect and affection, &c.

Permit me to confide to you, also, under the same secrecy, my fears that orders have not yet been sent to all the ports.

Endnote:

1. In the previous recital a few words have been said relating to this armament. Two frigates, bearing the American colours, were to have been placed under the orders of Paul Jones, and M. de Lafayette was to command the small army intended to descend unexpectedly upon the western coast of England, and to ransack Bristol, Liverpool, and other commercial towns, for the advantage of the American finances. But this expedition was soon considered below the position in which M. de Lafayette was placed, and was abandoned for the plan of a descent on England, which was to be executed by the combined forces of France and Spain. The slowness of the latter power occasioned, at a later period, the failure of the project; and the only result it produced was Paul Jones's expedition, and the conflict between the Bonhomme Richard and the Serapis. See farther on the first letters to congress and to Washington. In a collection of Franklin's private letters, there is also found a letter relating to this affair, and the note written by M. de Lafayette to Paul Jones when the expedition was abandoned. (A Collection of the Familiar Letters and Miscellaneous Papers of B. Franklin, Boston, 1833. Washington's writings, Vol. vi., Appendix viii.)

TO M. DE VERGENNES.

Paris, April 26th, 1779.

Sir,—Allow me the honour of proposing to you a plan, the success of which, uncertain as it now is, will depend perhaps upon your approbation. As your means of attack or defence depend on our maritime force, would it not be doing a service to the common cause to increase for a time that of our allies? To purchase vessels would be too expensive for a nation so destitute of money; it would answer all purposes to hire them, and would enable, us to make such diversions, or to undertake such operations, as might be deemed necessary.

Do you not think, sir, if the King of Sweden would lend to America four ships of the line, with the half of their crews, and the United States would engage to return them within a year upon certain conditions, that the step would be advantageous for us? The vessels might come to us under the Swedish flag. France need not be implicated at all. We could supply them in part, provide them with officers in blue, and send them out under the American flag. It would only be necessary to know, whether France would engage to be responsible for the sum requisite for the hire, and would help to complete the equipment. Even if the first part should meet with obstacles, the government might pledge itself only in case it should exceed my fortune.

I have not as yet spoken to Dr. Franklin about the scheme, but I have sounded the Swedish ambassador on the subject, much to my satisfaction; he asked me for a letter, directed to him, which might be sent to his king; and since I saw that this important project might result in something advantageous, I was constrained to confide it to you, and ask your opinion. The Swedish ambassador states that the vessels may be here in two months and a half; consequently, including the rest of the fleet, the whole might be at sea in the month of August; and arrive at Rhode Island, Bermuda, or somewhere else in America, in the month of October, which would be a good season.

It will be necessary for Dr. Franklin to send a trustworthy man, or, what would be better, for you to send one, upon whom he might depend. The proposed engagement requires some promise, and especially some hopes, of commerce, that would diminish the expense which must be incurred. Inform me, sir, I pray you, whether this little romantic scheme offers any difficulties, and whether I am to prosecute or resign my proposition.

I am, &c.

If, whilst we are arranging the negotiation with Sweden, the contributions of England should yield us anything, I might then recal to your attention a favourite project of mine.

TO THE PRESIDENT OF CONGRESS.

(ORIGINAL.)

St. Jean d'Angely, near Rochfort, June 12, 1779.

Sir,—How happy I shall think myself whenever a safe opportunity of writing to congress is offered, I cannot in any way better express than in reminding them of that unbounded affection and gratitude which I shall ever feel for them. So deeply are those sentiments engraven on my heart, that I every day lament the distance which separates me from them, and that nothing was ever so warmly and passionately wished for, as to return again to that country of which I shall ever consider myself as a citizen; there is no pleasure to be enjoyed which could equal this, of finding myself among that free and liberal nation, by whose affection and confidence I am so highly honoured; to fight again with those brother soldiers of mine to whom I am so much indebted. But congress knows that former plans have been altered by themselves, that others have been thought impossible, as they were asked too late in the year.~{1}

I will therefore make use of the leave of absence they were pleased to grant me, and serve the common cause among my countrymen, their allies, until happy circumstances may conduct me to the American shores, in such a way as would make that return more useful to the United States. The affairs of America I shall ever look upon as any first business whilst I am in Europe. Any confidence from the king and ministers, any popularity I may have among my own countrymen, any means in my power, shall be, to the best of my skill, and till the end of my life, exerted in behalf of an interest I have so much at heart. What I have hitherto done or said relating to America, I think needless to mention, as my ardent zeal for her is, I hope, well known to congress; but I wish to let them know that if, in my proposals, and in my repeated urgent representation for getting ships, money, and support of any kind, I have not always found the ministry so much in earnest as I was myself, they only opposed to me natural fears of inconveniences which might arise to both countries, or the conviction that such a thing was impossible for the present; but I never could question their good will towards America. If congress believe that my influence may serve them, in any way, I beg they will direct such orders to me, that I may the more certainly and properly employ the knowledge I have of this court and country for obtaining a success in which my heart is so much interested.

His excellency, Doctor Franklin, will, no doubt, inform you, sir, of the situation of Europe, and the respective state of our affairs. The Chevalier de la Luzerne will also add thereto the intelligence which will be intrusted to him at the time of his departure. By the doctor you will learn what has been said or thought on account of finances. Germany, Prussia, Turkey, and Russia, have made such a peace as the French have desired. All the northern kingdoms, the Dutch themselves, seem rather disgusted with English pride and vexations; they put themselves in a situation to protect their trade of every kind with France. Irish intelligence you will be fully and particularly acquainted of. What concerns Spain will also be laid before you; so that I have nothing to add but to tell you that our affairs seem going very fast towards a speedy and honourable end. England is now making her last effort, and I hope that a great stroke will, before long, abate their fantastic, swollen appearance, and shew the narrow bounds of their actual power.

Since we have taken Senegal I don't know of any military event which I can mention. There has been a privateering expedition against Jersey Island, which has been stopped by the difficulty of getting ashore. That little attempt, made by some few private volunteers, England honoured with the name of a public French expedition, and very unwisely employed there Admiral Arbuthnot, which will interpose a great delay to his reported departure. Congress will hear of an expedition against our friends of Liverpool and other parts of the English coast; to show there French troops under American colours, which on account of raising contributions, my concern for American finances had at length brought into my head. But the plan was afterwards reduced to so small a scale that they thought the command would not suit me, and the expedition itself has been delayed until more important operations take place. There I hope to be employed, and if anything important should be the matter, I shall, as a faithful American officer, give an accurate account thereof to congress and General Washington.

The so flattering affection which congress and the American nation are pleased to honour me with, makes me very desirous of letting them know, if I dare speak so friendly, how I enjoyed my private situation. Happy, in the sight of my friends and family, after I was, by your attentive goodness, safely brought again to my native shore, I met there with such an honourable reception, with such kind sentiments, as by far exceeded any wishes I durst have conceived; I am indebted for that inexpressible satisfaction which the good will of my countrymen towards me affords to my heart, to their ardent love for America, to the cause of freedom and its defenders, their new allies, and to the idea they entertain that I have had the happiness to serve the United States. To these motives, sir, and to the letter congress was pleased to write on my account, I owe the many favours the king has conferred upon me; there was no time lost in appointing me to the command of his own regiment of dragoons, and every thing he could have done, every thing I could have wished, I have received on account of your kind recommendations.

I have been some days in this small town, near Rochefort harbour, where I have joined the king's regiment, and where other troops are stationed which I for the moment command; but I hope to leave this place before long, in order to play a more active part and come nearer the common enemy. Before my departure from Paris I sent to the minister of foreign affairs, (who, by the bye; is one of our best friends,) intelligence concerning a loan in Holland, which I want France to make or answer for in behalf of America; but I have not yet heard any thing on that head. M. le Chevalier de la Luzerne will give you more explicit and fresher news, as he is particularly ordered to do so, and he sets out directly from Versailles. That new minister plenipotentiary I beg leave to recommend most earnestly to congress, not only as a public man, but also as a private gentleman. From the acquaintance I have made with him, I conceive he is a sensible, modest, well-meaning man; a man truly worthy of enjoying the spectacle of American freedom. I hope that by his good qualities and his talents, he will obtain both public confidence and private friendship.

Wherever the interests of beloved friends are seriously concerned, candid and warm affection knows not how to calculate, and throws away all considerations. I will frankly tell you, sir, that nothing can more effectually hurt our interests, consequence, and reputation, in Europe, than to hear of disputes or divisions between the whigs. Nothing could urge my touching upon this delicate matter but the unhappy experience of every day on that head, since I can hear, myself, what is said on this side of the Atlantic, and the arguments I have to combat with.

Let me, sir, finish this long letter, by begging you will present once more to the congress of the United States, the tribute of an unbounded zeal and affection, of the highest respect and most sincere gratitude, with which I shall be animated, till the last moment of my life.

With the most, &c.

Endnote:

1. This relates to the project of an expedition to Canada, and other plans of the same kind.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

St. Jean d'Angély, near Rochefort harbour, June 12,1779.

My Dear General,—Here is at length a safe opportunity of writing to you, and I may tell you what sincere concern I feel at our separation. There never was a friend, my dear general, so much, so tenderly beloved, as I love and respect you: happy in our union, in the pleasure of living near to you, in the pleasing satisfaction of partaking every sentiment of your heart, every event of your life, I have taken such a habit of being inseparable from you, that I cannot now accustom myself to your absence, and I am more and more afflicted at that enormous distance which keeps me so far from my dearest friend. I am the more concerned at this particular time, my dear general, as I think the campaign is opened, you are in the field, and I ardently wish I might be near you; and, if possible, contribute to your success and glory. Forgive me for what I am going to say, but I cannot help reminding you that a commander-in-chief should never expose himself too much; that in case General Washington was killed, nay, even seriously wounded, there is no officer in the army who could fill his place, every battle would most certainly be lost, and the American army, the American cause itself, would, perhaps, be entirely ruined.

Inclosed I send your excellency a copy of my letter to congress, in which you will find such intelligence as I was able to give them. The Chevalier de la Luzerne intends going to congress by passing through head quarters. I promised I would introduce him to your excellency, and I have requested him to let you know of any news he may have been entrusted with. Such a conversation will better acquaint you than the longest letter. The ministry told me they would let him know the true state of affairs before his departure. By what you will hear, my dear general, you will see that our affairs take a good turn, and I hope England will receive a good stroke before the end of the campaign. Besides the good dispositions of Spain, Ireland is a good deal tired of English tyranny. I, in confidence, tell you that the scheme of my heart would be to make her as free and independent as America. I have formed some private relations there. God grant that we may succeed, and the era of freedom at length arrive for the happiness of mankind. I shall know more about Ireland in a few weeks, and then I will immediately communicate with your excellency. As to congress, my dear general, it is too numerous a body for one safely to unbosom oneself, as with one's best friend.

In referring you to M. le Chevalier de la Luzerne, for what concerns the public news of this time, the present situation of affairs, and the designs of our ministry, I will only speak to your excellency about that great article, money. It gave me much trouble, and I insisted upon it so much, that the director of finances looks upon me as a devil. France has met great expenses lately; those Spaniards will not give their dollars easily. However, Dr. Franklin has got some money to pay the bills of congress, and I hope I shall determine them to greater sacrifices. Serving America, my dear general, is to my heart an inexpressible happiness.

There is another point for which you should employ all your influence and popularity. For God's sake prevent their loudly disputing together. Nothing hurts so much the interest and reputation of America, as to hear of their intestine quarrels. On the other hand there are two parties in France: MM. Adams and Lee on one part, Doctor Franklin and his friends on the other. So great is the concern which these divisions give me, that I cannot wait on these, gentlemen as much as I could wish, for fear of occasioning disputes and bringing them to a greater collision. That, my dear general, I intrust to your friendship, but I could not help touching upon that string in my letter to congress. Since I left America, my dear General, not a single line has arrived from you;~{1} this I attribute to winds, accidents, and deficiency of opportunities for I dare flatter myself General Washington would not lose that of making his friend happy. In the name of that very friendship, my dear general, never miss any opportunity of letting me know how you do. I cannot express to you how uneasy I feel on account of your health, and the dangers you are, perhaps at this moment, exposing yourself to. These you may possibly laugh at, and call womanlike considerations; but so, my dear friend, I feel, and I never could conceal the sentiments of my heart.

I don't know what has become of Colonel Nevill and the Chevalier de la Colombe. I beg you will make some inquiries respecting them, and do every thing in your power for their speedy exchange, in case they have been taken. Inclosed I send you a small note for Mr. Nevill. Give me leave to recommend to your excellency our new plenipotentiary minister, who seems to me extremely well calculated for deserving general esteem and affection.

I know, my dear general, you wish to hear something about my private affairs: these I give an account of to congress, and shall only add that I am here as happy as possible. My family, my friends, my countrymen, made me such a reception, and shewed me every day such an affection, as I should not have dared to hope. I have been for some days in this place, where there is the king's own regiment of dragoons, which I command, and some regiments of infantry, which are, for the present, under my orders; but I hope soon to begin a more active life, and in consequence thereof my return to Paris is, I believe, very near at hand; from thence I shall get employed in whatever may be done against the common enemy. What I wish, my dear general, what would make me the happiest of men, is to join again American colours, or to put under your orders a division of four or five thousand countrymen of mine. In case any such co-operation or private expedition should be desired, I think (if peace is not settled this winter) that an early demand might be complied with for the next campaign.

Our ministry is rather slow in their operations, and have a great propensity for peace, provided it be an honourable one, so that I think America must shew herself in good earnest for war till such conditions are obtained. American independence is a certain, undoubted point, but I wish to see that independence acknowledged with advantageous conditions. This, my dear general, is between us; as for what concerns the good will of the king, of the ministers, of the public, towards America, I, an American citizen, am fully satisfied with it; and I am sure the alliance and friendship between both nations will be established in such a way as will last for ever.

Be so kind, my dear general, as to present my best respects to your lady, and tell her how happy I should feel to present them myself to her at her own house. I have a wife, my dear general, who is in love with you, and her affection for you seems to me to be so well justified that I cannot oppose myself to that sentiment of hers. She begs you will receive her compliments and make them acceptable to Mrs. Washington. I hope, my dear general, you will come to see us in Europe, and most certainly I give you my word that if I am not happy enough to be sent to America before the peace, I shall by all means go there as soon as I can escape. I must not forget to tell you, my dear friend, that I have the hope of being soon once more a father.

All Europe wants to see you so much, my dear general, that you cannot refuse them that pleasure. I have boldly affirmed that you will pay me a visit after the peace is settled, so that if you deny me, you will hurt your friend's reputation throughout the world.

I beg you will present my best compliments to your family, and remind them of my tender affection for them all. Be so kind, also, to present my compliments to the general officers, to all the officers of the army, to every one, from the first major-general to the last soldier.

I most earnestly entreat you, my dear general, to let me hear from you. Write me how you do, how things are going on. The minutest detail will be infinitely interesting to me. Don't forget anything concerning yourself, and be certain that any little event or observation concerning you, however trifling it may appear, will have my warmest attention and interest. Adieu, my dear general, I cannot lay down the pen, and I enjoy the greatest pleasure in scribbling you this long letter. Don't forget me, my dear general; be ever as affectionate to me as you have been; these sentiments I deserve from the ardent ones which fill my heart. With the highest respect, with the most sincere and tender friendship that ever human heart has felt, I have the honour to be, &c.

For God's sake write me frequent and long letters, and speak chiefly about yourself and your private circumstances.

St. Jean, d'Angély, 13th June, 1779.

I Have just received, my dear general, an express from court, with orders to repair immediately to Versailles. There I am to meet M. le Comte de Vaux, Lieutenant-General, who is appointed to, the command of the troops intended for an expedition. In that army I shall be employed in the capacity of aide-maréchal-général des logis, which is, in our service, a very important and agreeable place; so that I shall serve in the most pleasing manner, and shall be in a situation to know everything and to render services. The necessity of setting off immediately prevents my writing to General Greene, to the gentlemen of your family, and other friends of mine in the army, whom I beg to accept my excuses on account of this order, which I did not expect so soon. Everything that happens you shall most certainly be acquainted of by me, and I will for the moment finish my letter in assuring your excellency again of my profound respect and tenderest friendship. Farewell, my dear general, and let our mutual affection last for ever.

Endnote:

1. This conjecture was a just one: by the correspondence of General Washington, who kept copies of all his letters, we perceive that he often wrote to M. de Lafayette, whose letters, on the contrary, during this voyage, consist but of two, because we have been able to find only those that arrived in America.

TO THE COUNT DE VERGENNES.

Havre, 30th July, 1779.

Sir,—I have received the letter which you have had the goodness to write to me, and in which you promise me another after having read to M. de Maurepas the paper which I addressed to you.~{1} It is shewing me a great favour to employ, in answering me, a part of your time, which is so precious; and I remain in eager expectation of your second letter. Being convinced that there is no time to lose in adopting the measures which I propose, my love for my country makes me feel an impatience, which I fear may pass for importunity; but you will excuse a fault arising from a feeling which is dear to every good citizen.

The Prince de Montbarrey will give you, with regard to Havre, all the information you may desire. You are certainly right in saying that my blood is in fermentation. We hear nothing of M. d'Orvilliers. Some say that he has gone to the Azores, to intercept the West Indian fleet, and to join M. d'Estaing, who was to return here, as I was informed by yourself and M. de Sartine; others affirm that he has gone to America.

The reasoning of the latter does not bring me over to their opinion; and it is very probable that if our fleet had been sent, as they suppose, I should not now be in Normandy. Be that as it may, you know, I hope that any arrangement, and any station, will satisfy me, and that I do not claim promotion, or assistance, or any mark of favour whatsoever. If M. d'Orvilliers, or a detachment, is now in the independent states of America, and my presence there can be in any way more serviceable than here, I shall be very willing to go over in an American frigate, which I will take on my own authority; and with the very natural pretext of rejoining the army in which I served, I will go and endeavour to use my influence for the advantage of my country. Several persons say, also, that Spanish dollars have been sent to the Americans; I earnestly hope it is so, as my last advices shew the necessity for them.

If the project, for want of sufficient means, should not be adopted this year, I deem it my duty to submit to you a proposition which would in a great measure accomplish the same object.

While waiting until next year to commence combined operations with a squadron, why might you not send to Boston three thousand, or even two thousand men, with three hundred dragoons, who should be joined in the spring by ships of war and a reinforcement of troops? This detachment could be sent by two fifty gun ships, using one of the India Company's ships for a transport, or Spanish vessels, if you prefer them. To avoid expense, let them sail in company with the ships destined for the West Indies, with the escort of the merchantmen, with the Bonhomme Richard, and all the frigates at Lorient. These troops will be left in America until the next campaign, and I will now mention what would be the result of such a measure; it being well understood that the convoy would proceed to the West Indies, or to any other destination, after having landed the detachment. First, we should raise by our presence the value of their paper money, an important point for French commerce; secondly, we should be at hand to obtain information, and might take such preliminary steps as would conduce, eventually, to our obtaining possession of Halifax; thirdly, such a detachment would inspire, the American army with new vigour, would powerfully support an attack for retaking the forts on the north river, and would lead the Americans to such undertakings as circumstances might render advisable.

You have told me to give you all my ideas. It is my duty to submit to you this last one, which, as it seems to me, is not liable to any objection. At first, I was afraid of expressing my opinion so strongly as I was inclined to do, lest I should be suspected of peculiar motives and predilections; but, now that people must know me better, and that you have my entire confidence, I speak more freely, and I solemnly affirm, upon my honour, that if half my fortune were spent in sending succours of troops to the Americans, I should believe that, in so doing, I rendered to my country a service more important than would be to me this sacrifice.

You will say, perhaps, that it will be difficult to find subsistence for the troops during the winter; but in paying in specie, we should obtain provisions very cheap, and the additional number of mouths would be very small in comparison to the population of the country.

Permit me, sir, to offer you the assurance of my attachment.

Endnote:

1. This letter, in the form of a memorial, and containing the plan of an expedition to America, has been placed at the end of the volume.—(See Appendix 2.)

TO M. DE VERGENNES.

Paris, Monday morning, August, 1779.

It is not, sir, to the king's minister that I am now writing, but my confidence in your kindness makes me hope that I am addressing a man whom I may safely call my friend, to whom I am merely giving an account of all that is most interesting to me. You may confer a great obligation upon me, (and render one perhaps to the public,) by employing in a less useless manner the few talents a soldier may possess, who has been hitherto rather fortunate in war, and who supplies his want of knowledge by the purest ardour in the cause.

I have seen the Comte de Maurepas, and I told him what I have the honour of communicating to you; he would not agree to the projects in question, and was doubtless right, although my own opinion remains unchanged; but he thinks that I, who was one of the first to speak of the expedition with fifteen hundred or two thousand men, must now command six hundred hussars, and that this change would be injurious to me. He, perhaps, imagined, as some others have done, from kindness towards me, that such a command would be beneath me. I ought not, besides, he added, to exchange a certainty for an uncertainty.

To this I answer, in the first place, that from the extreme kindness of the public towards me, nothing (I mean in relation to what passes in my own heart) can ever be injurious to me; that my setting out with only six hundred men would have been attributed to its real motive, and therefore pardoned. In the second place, to suspect me of entering into a calculation with my country, and of despising any means whatever of serving her, would either prove a want of discernment or of memory; and to the last objection, I reply, that the expedition of which I spoke to you yesterday, is quite as certain as my own.

If the troops had remained in a state of inactivity, it would have been very natural if my ardour had induced me to adopt the trade of a corsair; nay, it would have been natural if I had set out in an armed boat; but when an opportunity offers for employing on a grander scale the talents of a man who has never exercised a soldier's trade but on a wide field, it would be unfortunate for him to lose the power of distinguishing himself, and rendering, perhaps, some important services to his own country; and it would be injudicious in the government not to put to the test that reputation which has been gained in foreign service.

May I, sir, speak to you with frankness? What is most proper for me, would be an advance guard of grenadiers and chasseurs, and a detachment of the king's dragoons, making in all, from fifteen hundred to two thousand men, to raise me above the line, and give me the power of action. There are not many lieutenants-general, still fewer field-marshals, and no brigadiers, who have had such important commands confided to them as chance has given me. I also know the English, and they know me—two important considerations during a war. The command I wished for has even been given to a colonel.

It is said that M. de Maillebois, M. de Voyer, and M. de Melfort, will be employed; I know then first and last of these gentlemen; M. de Melfort is a field-marshal, and although I have exercised that trade myself, I should be well pleased to be under his orders. I wish to be chosen in the report of the army, not of the court; I do not belong to the court, still less am I a courtier; and I beg the king's ministers to look upon me as having belonged to a corps of the guards.

The Count de Maurepas only replied to me, perhaps, to divert my attention from some projects which are known unto me; I shall see him again on Wednesday morning, and my fate will then be decided. You would give me, sir, a great proof of friendship, by paying him a visit either to-night or to-morrow morning, and communicating to him the same sentiments you expressed to me yesterday. It is more important that you should see him at that time, because, if I hear from Lorient that the vessels are in readiness, I know not how to dissemble, and I must demand my farewell audience. The little expedition will then be given to some lieutenant-colonel, who may never have looked with the eye of a general, who may not possess great talents, but who, if he be brave and prudent, will lead the six hundred men as well as M. de Turenne could do if he were to return to life. The detachment of dragoons might then be kept back, the more so, as when reduced to fifty it would only become ridiculous; and the major, who takes charge of the detail, would likewise attend to the detail of my advance guard, in which I place great dependence.

I acknowledge to you, that I feel no dependence on M. de Montbarry, and I even wish, that my affairs could be arranged by you and M. de Maurepas. I know, sir, that I am asking for a proof of friendship which must give you some trouble, but I request it because I depend fully upon that friendship.

Pardon this scrawl, Sir; pardon my importunity; and pardon the liberty I take in assuring you so simply of my attachment and respect.

DR. FRANKLIN TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

Passy, 24th August, 1779.

Sir,—The congress, sensible of your merit towards the United States, but unable adequately to reward it, determined to present you with a sword, as a small mark of their grateful acknowledgment: they directed it to be ornamented with suitable devices. Some of the principal actions of the war, in which you distinguished yourself by your bravery and conduct, are therefore represented upon it. These, with a few emblematic figures, all admirably well executed, make its principal value. By the help of the exquisite artists of France, I find it easy to express everything but the sense we have of your worth, and our obligations to you for this, figures, and even words, are found insufficient. I, therefore, only add that, with the most perfect esteem, I have the honour to be,

B. FRANKLIN.

P.S. My grandson goes to Havre with the sword, and will have the honour of presenting it to you.

TO DR. FRANKLIN.

(ORIGINAL.)

Havre, 29th August, 1779,

Sir,—Whatever expectations might have been raised from the sense of past favours, the goodness of the United States to me has ever been such, that on every occasion it far surpasses any idea I could have conceived. A new proof of that flattering truth I find in the noble present, which congress has been pleased to honour me with, and which is offered in such a manner by your excellency as will exceed everything, but the feelings of an unbounded gratitude.

In some of the devices I cannot help finding too honourable a reward for those slight services which, in concert with my fellow soldiers, and under the god-like American hero's orders, I had the good fortune to render. The sight of those actions, where I was a witness of American bravery and patriotic spirit, I shall ever enjoy with that pleasure which becomes a heart glowing with love for the nation, and the most ardent zeal for its glory and happiness. Assurances of gratitude, which I beg leave to present to your excellency, are much too inadequate to my feelings, and nothing but such sentiments can properly acknowledge your kindness towards me. The polite manner in which Mr. Franklin was pleased to deliver that inestimable sword, lays me under great obligations to him, and demands my particular thanks.

With the most perfect respect, I have the honour to be, &c.

FROM GENERAL WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

(ORIGINAL.)

West Point, 30th Sept., 1779.

MY DEAR MARQUIS,—A few days ago, I wrote a letter in much haste; since that, I have been honoured with the company of Chevalier de la Luzerne, and by him was favoured with your obliging letter of the 12th of June, which filled me with equal pleasure and surprise; the latter at hearing that you had not received one of the many letters I had written to you since you left the American shore. It gave me infinite pleasure to hear from your sovereign, and of the joy which your safe arrival in France had diffused among your friends. I had no doubt that this would be the case; to hear it from yourself adds pleasure to the account; and here, my dear friend, let me congratulate you on your new, honourable, and pleasing appointment in the army commanded by the Count de Vaux, which I shall accompany with an assurance that none can do it with more warmth of affection, or sincere joy, than myself. Your forward zeal in the cause of liberty; your singular attachment to this infant world; your ardent and persevering efforts, not only in America, but since your return to France, to serve the United States; your polite attention to Americans, and your strict and uniform friendship for me, have ripened the first impressions of esteem and attachment which I imbibed for you into such perfect love and gratitude, as neither time nor absence can impair. This will warrant my assuring you that, whether in the character of an officer at the head of a corps of gallant Frenchmen, if circumstances should require this; whether as a major-general, commanding a division of the American army; or whether, after our swords and spears have given place to the ploughshare and pruning-hook, I see you as a private gentleman, a friend and companion, I shall welcome you with all the warmth of friendship to Columbia's shores; and, in the latter case, to my rural cottage, where homely fare and a cordial reception shall be substituted for delicacies and costly living. This, from past experience, I know you can submit to; and if the lovely partner of your happiness will consent to participate with us in such rural entertainment and amusements, I can undertake, in behalf of Mrs. Washington, that she will do everything in her power to make Virginia agreeable to the Marchioness. My inclination and endeavours to do this cannot be doubted, when I assure you that I love everybody that is dear to you, and, consequently, participate in the pleasure you feel in the prospect of again becoming a parent; and do most sincerely congratulate you and your lady on this fresh pledge she is about to give you of her love.

I thank you for the trouble you have taken, and your polite attention, in favouring me with a copy of your letter to congress; and feel, as I am persuaded they must do, the force of such ardent zeal as you therein express for the interest of this country. The propriety of the hint you have given them must carry conviction, and, I trust, will have a salutary effect; though there is not, I believe, the same occasion for the admonition now that there was several months ago. Many late changes have taken place in that honourable body, which have removed, in a very great degree, if not wholly, the discordant spirit which, it is said, prevailed in the winter, and I hope measures will also be taken to remove those unhappy and improper differences which have extended themselves elsewhere, to the prejudice of our affairs in Europe.

I have a great pleasure in the visit which the Chevalier de la Luzerne and Monsieur Marbois did me the honour to make at this camp; concerning both of whom I have imbibed the most favourable impressions, and I thank you for the honourable mention you made of me to them. The chevalier, till he had announced himself to congress, did not choose to be received in his public character; if he had, except paying him military honours, it was not my intention to depart from that plain and simple manner of living which accords with the real interest and policy of men struggling under every difficulty for the attainment of the most inestimable blessing of life, liberty. The chevalier was polite enough to approve my principle, and condescended to appear pleased with our Spartan living. In a word, he made us all exceedingly happy by his affability and good humour, while he remained in camp.

You are pleased, my dear marquis, to express an earnest desire of seeing me in France, after the establishment of our independency, and do me the honour to add, that you are not singular in your request. Let me entreat you to be persuaded, that, to meet you anywhere, after the final accomplishment of so glorious an event, would contribute to my happiness; and that to visit a country to whose generous aid we stand so much indebted, would be an additional pleasure; but remember, my good friend, that I am unacquainted with your language, that I am too far advanced in years to acquire a knowledge of it, and that, to converse through the medium of an interpreter, upon common occasions, especially with the ladies, must appear so extremely awkward, insipid, and uncouth, that I can scarcely bear it in idea. I will, therefore, hold myself disengaged for the present; but when I see you in Virginia, we will talk of this matter, and fix our plans.

The declaration of Spain in favour of France has given universal joy to every Whig; while the poor Tory droops like a withering flower under a declining sun. We are anxiously expecting to hear of great and important events on your side of the Atlantic; at present, the imagination is left in the wide field of conjecture, our eyes one moment are turned to an invasion of England, then of Ireland, Minorea, Gibraltar; in a word, we hope everything, but know not what to expect, or where to fix. The glorious success of Count d'Estaing in the West Indies, at the same time that it adds dominion to France, and fresh lustre to her arms, is a source of new and unexpected misfortune to our tender and generous parent, and must serve to convince her of the folly of quitting the substance in pursuit of a shadow; and, as there is no experience equal to that which is bought, I trust she will have a superabundance of this kind of knowledge, and be convinced, as I hope all the world and every tyrant in it will be, that the best and only safe road to honour, glory, and true dignity, is justice.

We have such repeated advice of Count d'Estaing's being in these seas, that, though I have no official information of the event, I cannot help giving entire credit to the report, and looking for his arrival every moment, and I am preparing accordingly; the enemy at New York also expect it; and, to guard against the consequences, as much as it is in their power to do, are repairing and strengthening all the old fortifications, and adding new ones in the vicinity of the city. Their fears, however, do not retard an embarkation which was making, and generally believed to be for the West Indies or Charlsetown: it still goes forward; and, by my intelligence, it will consist of a pretty large detachment. About fourteen days ago, one British regiment (the forty-fourth completed) and three Hessian regiments were embarked, and are gone, as is supposed, to Halifax. The operations of the enemy this campaign have been confined to the establishment of works of defence, taking a post at King's Ferry, and burning the defenceless towns of New Haven, Fairfield, and Norwalk, on the Sound, within reach of their shipping, where little else was, or could be, opposed to them, than the cries of distressed women and helpless children; but these were offered in vain. Since these notable exploits, they have never stepped out of their works or beyond their lines. How a conduct of this kind is to effect the conquest of America, the wisdom of a North, a Germain, or a Sandwich can best decide, it is too deep and refined for the comprehension of common understandings and the general run of politicians.

Mrs. Washington, who set out for Virginia when we took the field in June, has often, in her letters to me, inquired if I had heard from you, and will be much pleased at hearing that you are well and happy. In her name, as she is not here, I thank you for your polite attention to her, and shall speak her sense of the honour conferred on her by the Marchioness. When I look back to the length of this letter, I have not the courage to give it a careful reading for the purpose of correction: you must, therefore, receive it with all its imperfections, accompanied with this assurance, that, though there may be many inaccuracies in the letter, there is not a single defect in the friendship of, my dear Marquis, yours, &c.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.~{1}

(ORIGINAL.)

Havre, 7th October, 1779.

My dear general—From those happy ties of friendship by which you were pleased to unite yourself with me, from the promises you so tenderly made me when we parted at Fishkill, gave me such expectations of hearing often from you, that complaints ought to be permitted to my affectionate heart. Not a line from you, my dear, general, has yet arrived into my hands, and though several ships from America, several despatches from congress or the French minister, are safely brought to France, my ardent hopes of getting at length a letter from General Washington have ever been unhappily disappointed: I cannot in any way account for that bad luck, and when I remember that in those little separations where I was but some days from you, the most friendly letters, the most minute account of your circumstances, were kindly written to me, I am convinced you have not neglected and almost forgotten me for so long a time. I have, therefore, to complain of fortune, of some mistake or neglect in acquainting you that there was an opportunity, of anything; indeed, but what could injure the sense I have of your affection for me. Let me beseech you, my dear general, by that mutual, tender, and experienced friendship in which, I have put an immense portion of my happiness, to be very exact in inquiring for occasions, and never to miss those which may convey to me letters that I shall be so much pleased to receive.

Inclosed I send to your excellency the copy of my letters to congress, which, in concert with Mr. Franklin's longer despatches, will give you a sketch of European intelligence. Contrary winds have much delayed an expedition which I think should have been undertaken much sooner: the kings of France and Spain seem desirous of carrying it on before the winter; it may be, however, deferred till next spring, and the siege of Gibraltar would be the only land expedition for the present campaign. In a few weeks time, when West India successes may be compared to those in Europe, my gazettes and predictions will have a greater degree of certainty, but one must not be a conjuror to see that England is in such a way that one may defy her to get up again, and that a happy peace, blessed with American independence, will, in this or the ensuing campaign, be the certain effect of the present war.

As my private circumstances are somewhat interesting to your friendship, I will tell you, my dear general, that since my last letter I have hardly quitted this place, where head-quarters had been fixed. I was to disembark with the grenadiers forming the vanguard, and am, therefore, one of the first who will land on the English shore. The king's own regiment of dragoons, which he gave me on my return, was to embark at Brest, and join us a few days after the landing. From Count d'Estaing's expedition on the American coasts, the nation raises great expectations, and very impatiently waits for intelligence. How unhappy I am to find myself so far from you on such an occasion you will easily conceive. The impression of sorrow such a thought gives me cannot be alleviated but by the sense I have that the general opinion of the turn warlike operations will take this campaign, the ties of my duty towards my own country, where my services had been employed for the expedition against England, and the hope I entertained of being here more useful to the United States, had not left me the choice of the part I should take for this campaign. I hope, my dear sir, you will agree in opinion with me.

Whatever may be Count d'Estaing's success in America, it will bring on new projects and operations. My ideas I laid before your excellency at Fishkill; but permit me to tell you again how earnestly I wish to join you. Nothing could make me so delighted as the happiness of finishing the war under your orders. That, I think, if asked by you, will be granted to congress and your excellency. But be certain, my dear general, that in any situation, in any case, let me act as a French or as an American officer, my first wish, my first pleasure, will be to serve again with you. However happy I am in France, however well treated by my country and king, I have taken such a habit of being with you, I am tied to you, to America, to my fellow soldiers by such an affection, that the moment when I shall sail for your country will be one of the most wished for and the happiest in my life.

From an American newspaper I find that a certain English intelligence had been propagated through the United States, that, at the head of fifteen hundred officers or non-commissioned officers, I was going to embark for America, and that, with soldiers of your army embodied under them, I wanted to teach military discipline throughout the American army. However remote I am from thinking of teaching my own masters, and however distant from such views was that command in France, whose end you very well know, I could not help taking it as a reflection on the American army. The English troops may remember that on some particular occasions I have not had to lament the want of discipline and spirit in the troops which I had the honour to command. Whilst we have but the same British army to fight with, we need not be looking out for any other improvement than the same qualities which have often enabled my fellow American soldiers to give, instead of receiving, pretty good lessons to an enemy, whose justly-reputed courage added a new reputation to American bravery and military conduct.

The above article, my dear general, I beg you will have printed in the several newspapers.

As there is but a little time to write before the sailing of the vessel, I cannot call to mind all the friends I have in the army, unless your excellency is pleased to make them a thousand compliments from one who heartily loves them, and whose first wish is to be again in their company.

I congratulate you, my dear general, on the spirited expedition of Stony Point,~{2} and am glad it has added, a new lustre to our arms.

Be so kind, my dear friend, as to present my best respects to your lady. Mine begs leave to be kindly remembered to you and to her. Thousand assurances of friendship wait from me on your family.

Oh! my dear general, how happy I should be to embrace you again!

With such affection as is above all expressions any language may furnish, I have the honour to be, very respectfully, &c.

Endnotes:

1. To this letter was joined a long letter to the president of congress, which contained nearly the same things, expressed in a different manner.

2. A brilliant exploit of General Wayne, who, on the 15th of July, took by assault the fort of Stony Point, and forced five hundred and fifty-four English to capitulate.

TO M. DE VERGENNES.

Versailles, February 2d, 1780.

You approved, sir, of my putting down in writing, before conversing with you upon the subject of the expedition, some of the measures necessary to be taken in either of the following cases: first, if I should command the French detachment; and secondly, if I should resume an American division.~{1}

I must begin by observing that this commission is not only a military and political, but also a social affair: and from the circumstances under which I am now placed, I assure you, on my honour, that I believe the first measure would be most favourable to the public service, and the interest of France as regards her allies.

As I must immediately begin my preparations, I should wish to be informed of the decision in sufficient time to select some officers of proper age, experience, and talents, with whom I can become acquainted before I take charge of the corps; and on this account it is necessary to arrange matters immediately with the Prince de Montbarrey. Two old experienced lieutenant-colonels should command the infantry under me: in distant expeditions, it is necessary that officers should suit each other, and I am particularly fond of old officers.

In regard to myself, sir, I ask for nothing,—and as during the course of a war I may hope to acquire rank, you might either give me one of those commissions of M. de Sartine, which are only of use in America, or one that would not prevent my seniors from resuming afterwards their rank, or else letters of service, to enable me simply to command in the capacity of an American general officer.

There are three methods of concealing the real aim of the expedition: 1st, to set out together for Lorient, under pretence of taking an island, and operating in Carolina in the autumn;—2nd, to pretend to send troops to M. de Bouillé; there need be no commander, and I should have the title of maréchal-des-logis;—3d, for me to set out immediately with the grenadiers and dragoons for America, and that the four battalions, commanded by the two ancient officers, should join me at Rhode Island.

If I should have the command, you may act with perfect security, because the Americans know me too well to feel the slightest anxiety. I will bind myself, if it be desired, to ask for neither rank nor titles, and, to put the ministry quite at their ease, I will even promise to refuse them should they be offered me.

In the second case, sir, it would be necessary to prevent, beforehand, in America, the bad effects that the arrival of another commander would excite: that I am not to lead that detachment is the last idea that could ever occur in that country; I will say, therefore, that for myself I prefer having an American division.

I must be in the secret to prepare the various measures, and inform General Washington of the transaction. A secret with which I was not acquainted would appear very suspicious at Philadelphia.

Three merchant frigates and a transport ship would be procured at Lorient. We have, it is said, an American crew; the fifteen thousand suits of clothes, and fifteen thousand guns, &c. might be embarked; at the end of the month it would be necessary to set out for the continent.

On arriving at a port, I should endeavour to commence my operations with General Washington; I should take a division in the army, and, with M. de la Luzerne's aid, prepare everything for the arrival of the French. To increase the number of my division,—to serve as an example to them,—to change the ideas entertained respecting us,—and to shew in what perfect good intelligence French and Americans may live together,—I should request to take with me, at once, a battalion of six hundred grenadiers, three hundred dragoons, and one hundred hussars.

Two or three officers, whom I should bring back with me, must obtain the same rank in France which they had in America, and I should say that I have refused that rank myself from motives which are purely social. This attention is necessary to flatter the self-love of the Americans. We may stop at Bermuda on our way, and establish there the party for liberty.

I shall set out on Wednesday for Nantes, where the clothes are making; I shall also attend to the selection of the arms; I shall see the king's regiment at Angers, to form a detachment from it; I shall repair to Lorient to hasten the arrangement of the frigates, and to see the battalion of grenadiers; I shall only be here the 20th, and as my departure must be public, I shall take leave the 25th, in an American uniform, and if the wind be favourable, I shall sail the 1st of March.

As it is physically impossible that a detachment commanded by a foreigner should amalgamate together well, I believe it would be necessary to increase it by a battalion, which would raise the number to about three thousand six hundred, and the grenadiers would remain more particularly attached to me during the campaign.

If that little corps be given to an old field-marshal, we should certainly displease all the American chiefs. Gates, Sullivan, and Saint Clair, would not like to be under the orders of others, and their opinion in the council would be opposed to combined expeditions. I think it necessary, very necessary, to select a brigadier, and name him field-marshal, which he would look upon as a promotion. The corps must consider itself as a division of our army; its commander must abjure all pretensions, think himself an American major-general, and execute, in all respects, the orders of General Washington. The naval commander may have more power placed in his hands.

Conclusion. 1st, I think it would be best to give me the corps.—2d,

If it be not given to me, I must instantly set out with the powers I demand. In either case, it is, unfortunately, necessary to reveal to me the secret, and set me immediately to work.

I shall have the honour, sir, of paying my respects to you during the procession.

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