Part 4

The Marquis and his friends thought they had had quite enough of life on shipboard for the present, and so decided to go to Charlestown over the country roads. The pilot that had been furnished by Major Huger came back with word that there was not sufficient water for the _Victory_ to stay in Georgetown Bay, and Lafayette ordered the ship, in charge of the pilot, to sail to Charlestown. Meantime he and his companions, with horses of the Major’s, rode to that seaport. As soon as he arrived there he heard that there were a number of English cruisers on that part of the coast, and so he at once sent word to Captain Leboucier to beach the _Victory_ and burn her, rather than let her be captured by the cruisers.

The _Victory_, however, sailed safely into Charlestown without sighting a hostile sail, and the captain unloaded Lafayette’s supplies and his own private cargo. Later the sloop was loaded with rice and set sail again, but was wrecked on a bar and became a total loss.

No welcome could have been warmer than that Lafayette received in Charlestown. A dinner was given him, where the French officers met the American generals Gulden, Howe, and Moultrie. All houses were thrown open to him, and he was taken to inspect the fortifications and driven through the beautiful country in the neighborhood. How pleased he was he showed in a letter to Adrienne. “The city of Charlestown,” he wrote, “is one of the prettiest and the best built that I have ever seen, and its inhabitants are most agreeable. The American women are very pretty, very unaffected, and exhibit a charming neatness,--a quality which is most studiously cultivated here, much more even than in England. What enchants me here is that all the citizens are brethren. There are no poor people in America, nor even what we call peasants. All the citizens have a moderate property, and all have the same rights as the most powerful proprietor. The inns are very different from those of Europe: the innkeeper and his wife sit at table with you, do the honors of a good repast, and on leaving, you pay without haggling. When you do not choose to go to an inn, you can find country houses where it is enough to be a good American to be received with such attentions as in Europe would be paid to friends.”

That certainly speaks well for the hospitality of South Carolina!

He did not mean to tell his plans, however, until he should reach Philadelphia, where the Congress of the United States was sitting. “I have every reason to feel highly gratified at my reception in Charlestown,” he wrote, “but I have not yet explained my plans to any one. I judge it best to wait until I have presented myself to the Congress before making a statement as to the projects I have in view.”

He had only one difficulty in the seaport town. When he started to sell the _Victory_ and her cargo he found that the men who had sold him the ship and Captain Leboucier had so entangled him with agreements and commissions, all of which he had signed without properly reading in his haste to sail from Bordeaux, that, instead of receiving any money, he was actually in debt. To pay this off and get the needed funds to take his companions and himself to Philadelphia he had to borrow money, but fortunately there were plenty of people in Charlestown who were ready to help him out of that difficulty.

With the money borrowed from these well-disposed people Lafayette bought horses and carriages to take his party over the nine hundred miles that lay between Charlestown and Philadelphia. On June twenty-fifth the expedition started. In front rode a French officer dressed in the uniform of a hussar. Next came a heavy open carriage, in which sat Lafayette and De Kalb, and close behind it rode Lafayette’s body-servant. Then there followed a chaise with two colonels, the counselors of the Marquis, another chaise with more French officers, still another with the baggage, and finally, as rear-guard, a negro on horseback.

The country roads were frightful for travel; indeed for much of the way they could scarcely be called roads at all, being simply primitive clearings through the woods. The guide kept losing his way, and the carriages bumped along over roots and logs in a hot, blistering sun. As far as this particular journey went, the Frenchmen must have thought that travel was very much easier in their own country. One accident followed another; within four days the chaises had been jolted into splinters and the horses had gone lame. The travelers had to buy other wagons and horses, and to lighten their outfit kept leaving part of their baggage on the way. Sometimes they had to walk, often they went hungry, and many a night they slept in the woods. They began to appreciate that this new country, land of liberty though it was, had many disadvantages when it came to the matter of travel.

From Petersburg in Virginia Lafayette wrote to Adrienne. “You have heard,” said he, “how brilliantly I started out in a carriage. I have to inform you that we are now on horseback after having broken the wagons in my usual praiseworthy fashion, and I expect to write you before long that we have reached our destination on foot.”

Yet, in spite of all these discomforts, the Marquis was able to enjoy much of the journey. He studied the language of the people he met, he admired the beautiful rivers and the great forests, and he kept pointing out to his companions how much better the farmers here lived than the peasants of his own country. At least there was plenty of land for every one and no grasping overlords to take all the profits.

The journey lasted a month. The party paid a visit to Governor Caswell in North Carolina and stopped at Petersburg and Annapolis, where Lafayette met Major Brice, who later became his aide-de-camp. On July twenty-seventh the travel-worn party reached Philadelphia, which was then the capital of the United States.

The outlook for the Americans was gloomy enough then. New York was in the hands of the enemy, Burgoyne’s army had captured Ticonderoga and was threatening to separate New England from the rest of the country, and Howe was preparing to attack Philadelphia with a much larger army than Washington could bring against him. It would have seemed just the time when any help from abroad should have been doubly welcome, and yet as a matter of fact the Congress was not so very enthusiastic about it.

The reason for this was that already a great number of adventurers had come to America from the different countries of Europe and asked for high commands in the American army. Many of them were soldiers of considerable experience, and they all thought that they would make much better officers than the ill-trained men of the new republic. Some of them also quickly showed that they were eager for money, and one and all insisted on trying to tell Congress exactly what it ought to do. Quite naturally the Americans preferred to manage affairs in their own way.

George Washington had already sent a protest to Congress. “Their ignorance of our language and their inability to recruit men,” he said, “are insurmountable obstacles to their being ingrafted into our continental battalions; for our officers, who have raised their men, and have served through the war upon pay that has hitherto not borne their expenses, would be disgusted if foreigners were put over their heads; and I assure you, few or none of these gentlemen look lower than field-officers’ commissions. To give them all brevets, by which they have rank, and draw pay without doing any service, is saddling the continent with vast expense; and to form them into corps would be only establishing corps of officers; for, as I have said before, they cannot possibly raise any men.”

It was true that Silas Deane had been instructed to offer commissions to a few French officers, whose experience might help the Americans, but he had scattered commissions broadcast, and some of these men had proved of little use. One of them, Du Coudray, had arrived and insisted on commanding the artillery with the rank of major-general, and had aroused so much opposition that Generals Greene, Sullivan, and Knox had threatened to resign if his demands were granted. Congress was therefore beginning to look askance at many of the men who bore Silas Deane’s commissions.

That was the state of affairs when Lafayette, confident of a warm welcome, reached Philadelphia and presented himself and his friends to John Hancock, the president of Congress. Hancock may have received letters concerning the young Frenchman from Deane and Benjamin Franklin in Paris, but, if he had, he had paid little attention to them, and was inclined to regard this young man of nineteen as simply another adventurer from Europe. With a scant word of welcome Hancock referred Lafayette to Gouverneur Morris, who, he said, “had such matters in charge.”

The Frenchmen went to see Morris, but to him also they appeared only a new addition to the many adventurers already hanging about, looking for high commands. He put off dealing with Lafayette and De Kalb. “Meet me to-morrow at the door of Congress, gentlemen,” said he. “I will look over your papers in the meantime and will see what I can do for you.”

The two new arrivals kept the appointment promptly, but Morris was not on hand. After they had cooled their heels for some time he appeared, bringing with him Mr. Lovell, the chairman of the Committee on Foreign Affairs. “Matters that concern France are in Mr. Lovell’s charge,” said Morris. “Please deal with him after this.”

Lovell bowed to the strangers. “I understand, gentlemen,” said he, “that you have authority from Mr. Deane?”

“Certainly, sir,” De Kalb answered. “Our papers and agreements show that.”

Lovell frowned. “This is very annoying,” said he. “We authorized Mr. Deane to send us four French engineers, but instead he has sent us a number of engineers who are no engineers and some artillerists who have never seen service. Mr. Franklin, however, has sent us the four engineers we wanted. There is nothing for you to do here, gentlemen. We needed a few experienced officers last year, but now we have plenty, and can promise no more positions. I must bid you good-morning.”

Here was a dashing blow to all their eager wishes. Surprise and disappointment showed in their faces.

“But, sir,” began De Kalb, “Mr. Deane promised----”

“Well, Mr. Deane has exceeded his authority,” declared Lovell. “He has promised too much and we cannot recognize his authority. We haven’t even a colonel’s commission to give to any foreign officers, to say nothing of a major-general’s. The Congress is very much annoyed by these constant demands, and General Washington says he won’t be disturbed by any more requests. I am sorry to disappoint you, but under the circumstances I can promise you nothing. Again I must bid you good-morning.”

Lovell returned to Congress, leaving the Frenchmen much discomfited. De Kalb began to storm, and finally spoke angrily of the way they had been treated by Deane. “It is not to be borne!” he cried. “I will take action against Deane! I will have damages for this indignity he has put upon us!”

Fortunately Lafayette was more even-tempered. In spite of this rebuff at the outset he meant to achieve his goal. He turned to the angry De Kalb and laid his hand restrainingly on the latter’s arm. “Let us not talk of damages, my friend,” he said. “It is more important for us to talk of doing. It is true that Congress didn’t ask us to leave our homes and cross the sea to lead its army. But I will not go back now. If the Congress will not accept me as a major-general, I will fight for American liberty as a volunteer!”

V

“I WILL FIGHT FOR AMERICAN LIBERTY AS A VOLUNTEER!”

Lafayette, standing outside the door of the American Congress in Philadelphia, refused the commission in the American army that had been promised him by Silas Deane, spoke these words of encouragement to his disappointed and indignant friends who had crossed with him from France. “If the Congress will not accept me as a major-general, I will fight for American liberty as a volunteer!” he said; and, having come to this decision, he immediately proceeded to put it into effect. He went to his lodgings and wrote a letter to John Hancock, president of Congress.

Lafayette’s letter explained the reasons why he had come to the United States and recounted the many difficulties he had had to overcome. He stated that he thought that the promise he had received from Silas Deane, the approval of Benjamin Franklin, and the sacrifices he had himself made ought to lead Congress to give a friendly hearing to his request. He said that he understood how Congress had been besieged by foreign officers seeking high rank in the army, but added that he only asked two favors. These were, in his own words, “First, that I serve without pay and at my own expense; and, the other, that I be allowed to serve at first as a volunteer.”

This letter was a great surprise to John Hancock and the other leaders of Congress. Here was a young French officer of family and wealth who was so deeply interested in their cause that he was eager to serve as an unpaid volunteer! He was a different type from the others who had come begging for favors. Hancock looked up the letter that Franklin had written about the Marquis, and read, “Those who censure him as imprudent do nevertheless applaud his spirit, and we are satisfied that the civilities and respect that may be shown him will be serviceable to our affairs here, as pleasing not only to his powerful relations and to the court, but to the whole French nation.”

Hancock was impressed; perhaps they had made a mistake in treating this Marquis de Lafayette in such cavalier fashion. So he sent another member of Congress to see the young Frenchman and instructed him to treat Lafayette with the greatest courtesy. And the result of this interview was that Hancock’s emissary was quickly convinced of Lafayette’s absolute honesty of purpose and intense desire to help the United States.

Having reached this conclusion Hancock decided to make amends and do the honorable thing, and so, on July 31, 1777, Congress passed the following resolution: “Whereas, the Marquis de Lafayette, out of his great zeal to the cause of liberty, in which the United States are engaged, has left his family and connections, and, at his own expense, come over to offer his services to the United States, without pension or particular allowance, and is anxious to risk his life in our cause, therefore, Resolved, that his services be accepted, and that, in consideration of his zeal, illustrious family, and connections, he have the rank and commission of major-general in the army of the United States.”

How fortunate it was that Lafayette had not been daunted at the outset, or discouraged as De Kalb and his companions had been! His great dream had come true as a result of perseverance; he had been welcomed by Congress, and was, at nineteen, a major-general in the army of liberty!

But he did not forget those companions who had crossed the sea with the same desires as his own. In the letter he wrote to Congress, penned in his own quaint English,--a letter now in the State Department at Washington,--after thanking “the Honorable mr. Hancok,” as he spelled it, and expressing his gratitude to Congress, he said, “it is now as an american that I’l mention every day to congress the officers who came over with me, whose interests are for me as my own, and the consideration which they deserve by their merit, their ranks, their state and reputation in france.”

He was unable, however, to do much for these friends, though one of them said, “He did everything that was possible for our appointment, but in vain, for he had no influence. But if he had his way, De Kalb would have been major-general and we should all have had places.”

Congress felt that it could not give them all commissions. Captain de Bedaulx, who was a veteran officer, was made a captain in the American army, one other was engaged as a draughtsman and engineer, and Lafayette kept two as his own aides-de-camp. Most of the others were sent back to France, their expenses being paid by Congress. As for De Kalb, he had given up his plans for high rank and preferment and was on his way to take passage on a ship for Europe when a messenger reached him with word that Congress, voting for one more major-general in the army, had elected him.

Lafayette, in his letter to Hancock, had said that he wished to serve “near the person of General Washington till such time as he may think proper to entrust me with a division of the army.” Events soon gave him the chance to meet the commander-in-chief. The arrival of Howe’s fleet at the mouth of the Delaware River seemed to threaten Philadelphia, and Washington left his camp in New Jersey to consult with Congress. Lafayette was invited to a dinner in Philadelphia to meet the commander-in-chief, and accepted eagerly. The Frenchman was greatly impressed. “Although General Washington was surrounded by officers and private citizens,” he wrote, “the majesty of his countenance and of his figure made it impossible not to recognize him; he was especially distinguished also by the affability of his manners and the dignity with which he addressed those about him.”

Washington had already heard of Lafayette and found a chance for a long talk with him. On his part he was at once strongly attracted by the young Marquis. “You have made the greatest sacrifices for our cause, sir,” Washington said, “and your evident zeal and generosity interest me deeply. I shall do my part toward making you one of us. I shall be greatly pleased to have you join my staff as a volunteer aid, and beg you to make my headquarters your home, until events place you elsewhere. I beg you to consider yourself at all times as one of my military family, and I shall be glad to welcome you at the camp as speedily as you think proper. Of course I cannot promise you the luxuries of a court, but, as you have now become an American soldier, you will doubtless accommodate yourself to the fare of an American army, and submit with a good grace to its customs, manners, and privations.”

The next day Washington invited Lafayette to accompany him on a tour of inspection of the fortifications about Philadelphia.

The General liked the Marquis, but was not quite certain how the latter could best be employed. He wrote to Benjamin Harrison, who was a member of Congress, “As I understand the Marquis de Lafayette, it is certain that he does not conceive that his commission is merely honorary, but is given with a view to command a division of this army. It is true he has said that he is young and inexperienced; but at the same time he has always accompanied it with a hint that, so soon as I shall think him fit for the command of a division, he shall be ready to enter upon his duties, and in the meantime has offered his services for a smaller command. What the designs of Congress respecting this gentleman were, and what line of conduct I am to pursue to comply with their design and his expectations--I know not and beg to be instructed.... Let me beseech you, my good sir, to give me the sentiments of Congress on this matter, that I may endeavor, as far as it is in my power, to comply with them.”

Mr. Harrison answered that Congress intended Lafayette’s appointment to be regarded merely as an honorary one, and that the commander-in-chief was to use his own judgment concerning him.

In the meantime Lafayette set out from Philadelphia to join Washington’s army. That army, early in August, had begun its march eastward, hoping to cut off any British move about New York; but the appearance of the British fleet off the Delaware had brought them to a halt, and Washington ordered them into camp near the present village of Hartsville, on the old York Road leading out of Philadelphia. Here, on August twenty-first, Lafayette joined the army, just as the commander, with Generals Stirling, Greene, and Knox, was about to review the troops.

It was indeed a sorry-looking army, according to the standards of Europe. There were about eleven thousand men, poorly armed and wretchedly clad. Their clothes were old and ragged, hardly any two suits alike, and the men knew little enough about military tactics. Courage and resolution had to take the place of science; but there was no lack of either bravery or determination. Yet some of the foreign officers who had seen the American army had spoken very slightingly of it, and Washington said to Lafayette, “It is somewhat embarrassing to us to show ourselves to an officer who has just come from the army of France.”

Lafayette, always tactful, always sympathetic, smiled. “I am here to learn and not to teach, Your Excellency,” he answered.

A council of war followed the review, and the commander asked the Marquis to attend it. The council decided that if the British were planning to invade the Carolinas it was unwise to attempt to follow them south, and that the army had better try to recapture New York. But at that very moment a messenger brought word that the British fleet had sailed into Chesapeake Bay, and, hearing this, Washington concluded to march his army to the south of Philadelphia and prepare to defend that city.

Ragged and out-at-elbows as the small American army was, it marched proudly through the streets of Philadelphia. With sprigs of green branches in their hats the soldiers stepped along to the tune of fife and drum, presenting, at least in the eyes of the townspeople, a very gallant appearance. Lafayette rode by the side of Washington, glad that the opportunity had come for him to be of service.

Very soon he had a chance to share danger with his commander. When the troops arrived on the heights of Wilmington, Washington, with Lafayette and Greene, made a reconnaissance, and, being caught by a storm and darkness, was obliged to spend the night so near to the British lines that he might easily have been discovered by a scout or betrayed into the hands of the enemy.

Meantime General Howe and Lord Cornwallis had landed eighteen thousand veteran troops near what is now Elkton in Maryland, and was advancing toward Philadelphia. To defend the city Washington drew up his forces on September ninth at Chadd’s Ford on the Brandywine. One column of Howe’s army marched to this place and on September eleventh succeeded in driving across the river to the American camp. The other column, under command of Cornwallis, made a long détour through the thickly wooded country, and bore down on the right and rear of Washington’s army, threatening its total destruction.

The American commander at once sent General Sullivan, with five thousand men, to meet this force on the right. Realizing that most of the fighting would be done there, Lafayette asked and was given permission to join General Sullivan. Riding up as a volunteer aid, he found the half-formed wings of the American army attacked by the full force under Cornwallis. The Americans had to fall back, two of General Sullivan’s aids were killed, and a disorderly retreat began. Lafayette leaped from his horse, and, sword in hand, called on the soldiers to make a stand.

He checked the retreat for a few moments; other troops came up, and the Americans offered gallant resistance. Lafayette was shot through the calf of the leg, but, apparently unconscious of the wound, continued to encourage his men. Then Cornwallis’s brigades swept forward again, and Sullivan’s troops had to give ground before the greater numbers. The battle became a general rout. Gimat, Lafayette’s aid, saw that the young man was wounded, and helped him to mount his horse. The wounded man then tried to rejoin Washington, but soon after he had to stop to have his leg bandaged.