Memoirs, Correspondence and Manuscripts of General Lafayette Part 6

I write you a line, my dearest love, by some French officers, my friends, who embarked with me, but, not having received any appointment in the American army, are returning to France. I must begin by telling you that I am perfectly well, because I must end by telling you that we fought seriously last night, and that we were not the strongest on the field of battle. Our Americans, after having stood their ground for some time, ended at length by being routed: whilst endeavouring to rally them, the English honoured me with a musket ball, which slightly wounded me in the leg,--but it is a trifle, my dearest love; the ball touched neither bone nor nerve, and I have escaped with the obligation of lying on my back for some time, which puts me much out of humour. I hope that you will feel no anxiety; this event ought, on the contrary, rather to rea.s.sure you, since I am incapacitated from appearing on the field for some time: I have resolved to take great care of myself; be convinced of this, my love. This affair, will, I fear, be attended with bad consequences for America. We will endeavour, if possible, to repair the evil. You must have received many letters from me, unless the English be equally ill-disposed towards my epistles as towards my legs. I have not yet received one letter, and I am most impatient to hear from you.

Adieu; I am forbidden to write longer. For several days I have not had time to sleep. Our retreat, and my journey hither, took up the whole of last night; I am perfectly well taken care of in this place. Tell all my friends that I am in good health. My tender respects to Madame d'Ayen.

A thousand compliments to the viscountess and my sisters. The officers will soon set out. They will see you; what pleasure! Good night, my dearest life! I love you better than ever.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

October 1st, 1777.

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

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

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

I must now give you your lesson, as wife of an American general officer.

They will say to you, "They have been beaten:" you must answer,--"That is true; but when two armies of _equal number_ meet in the field, old soldiers have naturally the advantage over new ones; they have, besides, had the pleasure of killing a great many of the enemy, many more than they have lost." They will afterwards add: "All that is very well; but Philadelphia is taken, the capital of America, the rampart of liberty!"

You must politely answer, "You are all great fools! Philadelphia is a poor forlorn town, exposed on every side, whose harbour was already closed; though the residence of congress lent it, I know not why, some degree of celebrity. This is the famous city which, be it added, we will, sooner or later, make them yield back to us." If they continue to persecute you with questions, you may send them about their business in terms which the Viscount de Noailles will teach you, for I cannot lose time by talking to you of politics.

I have delayed writing your letter till the last, in the hope of receiving one from you, answering it, and giving you the latest intelligence of my health; but I am told, if I do not send immediately to congress, twenty-five leagues from hence, my captain will have set out, and I shall lose the opportunity of writing to you. This is the cause of my scrawl being more unintelligible than usual; however, if I were to send you anything but a hurried scrawl, I ought, in that case, to beg your pardon, from the singularity of the case. Recollect, my dearest love, that I have only once heard of you, from Count Pulaski. I am much provoked, and am very miserable. Imagine how dreadful it is to be far from all I love, in this state of suspense and almost despair; it is impossible to support it; and I feel, at the same time, that I do not deserve to be pitied. Why was I so obstinately bent on coming hither ?

I have been well punished for my error; my affections are too strongly rooted for me to be able to perform such deeds. I hope you pity me; if you knew all I suffer, especially at this moment, when everything concerning you is so deeply interesting! I cannot, without shuddering, think of this. I am told that a parcel has arrived from France; I have despatched expresses on every road and in every corner; I have sent an officer to congress; I am expecting him every day, and you may conceive with what feelings of intense anxiety. My surgeon is also very anxious for his arrival, for this suspense keeps my blood in a state of effervescence, and he would fain require that it should flow calmly. O, my dearest life, if I receive good news from you, and all I love,--if those delightful letters arrive to-day, how happy I shall be!--but with what agitation, also, I shall open them!

Be perfectly at ease about my wound; all the faculty in America are engaged in my service. I have a friend, who has spoken to them in such a manner that I am certain of being well attended to; that friend is General Washington. This excellent man, whose talents and virtues I admired, and whom I have learnt to revere as I know him better, has now become my intimate friend: his affectionate interest in me instantly won my heart. I am established in his house, and we live together like two attached brothers, with mutual confidence and cordiality. This friendship renders me as happy as I can possibly be in this country.

When he sent his best surgeon to me, he told him to take charge of me as if I were his son, because he loved me with the same affection. Having heard that I wished to rejoin the army too soon, he wrote me a letter full of tenderness, in which he requested me to attend to the perfect restoration of my health. I give you these details, my dearest love, that you may feel quite certain of the care that is taken of me. Amongst the French officers, who have all expressed the warmest interest for me, M. de Gimat, my aide-de-camp, has followed me about like my shadow, both before and since the battle, and has given me every possible proof of attachment. You may thus feel quite secure on this account, both for the present and for the future.

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

I am writing, by a different opportunity, to various persons, and also to yourself. I think this letter will arrive first; if this vessel should accidentally arrive, and the other one be lost, I have given the viscount a list of the letters I have addressed to him. I forgot to mention my aunts;~[1] give them news of me as soon as this reaches you.

I have made no _duplicata_ for you, because I write to you by every opportunity. Give news of me, also, to M. Margelay,~[2] the Abbe Fayon, and Desplaces.

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

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

Footnotes:

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

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

TO M. DE VERGENNES,

MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS.

Whitemarsh Camp, October 24, 1777.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your very humble and obedient servant,

LAFAYETTE.

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

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

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

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

Repeat to me that you love me: the less I merit your affection, the more necessary to me are your consoling a.s.surances of it. You must have received so many accounts of my slight wound, that all repet.i.tions on the subject would be useless; and if you ever believed it was anything serious, M. de Valfort can undeceive you. In a very short time I shall not even be lame.

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

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

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

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Camp of Whitemarsh, November 6th, 1777.

You will perhaps receive this letter, my dearest love, at the expiration of five or six years, for I am writing to you by an accidental opportunity, in which I do not place great trust. See what a circuit my letter must make. An officer in the army will carry it to Fort Pitt, three hundred miles in the interior of the continent; it will then embark on the great Ohio river, and traverse regions inhabited only by savages; having reached New Orleans, a small vessel will transport it to the Spanish islands; a ship of that nation--G.o.d 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 pa.s.s 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 circ.u.mstantially 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 n.o.blemen_."