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.
Footnotes:
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.
Footnotes:
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. Honore 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.
Footnotes:
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.
Footnote:
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 _prejuges_ 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 Tesse, 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?
Footnote:
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.
Footnote:
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.
Footnote:
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.
Footnote:
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!
Footnote:
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.
Footnote:
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 Tesse, 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.
Footnotes:
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]
Footnote:
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.
Footnote:
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