Читать книгу Memoirs, Correspondence and Manuscripts of General Lafayette - marquis de Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert Du Motier Lafayette - Страница 8

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,