Memoirs, Correspondence and Manuscripts of General Lafayette by Lafayette

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

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

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

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.

(ORIGINAL.)

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

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

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

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

TO THE DUKE D'AYEN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LAFAYETTE,

Footnote:

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

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

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

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

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

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

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