Memoirs, Correspondence and Manuscripts of General Lafayette by Lafayette

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These are my little commissions, my love; I have also written to
Sicily. We have seen, to-day, several kinds of birds, which announce
that we are not far from shore. The hope of arriving is very sweet, for
a ship life is a most wearisome one. My health, fortunately, allows me
to occupy myself a little; I divide my time between military books and
English books. I have made some progress in this language, which will
become very necessary to me. Adieu; night obliges me to discontinue my
letter, as I forbade some days ago, any candles being used in my
vessel: see how prudent I have become! Once more, adieu; if my fingers
be at all guided by my heart, it is not necessary to see clearly to
tell you that I love you, and that I shall love you all my life.

15th June--At Major Hughes's.~[8]

I have arrived, my dearest love, in perfect health, at the house of an
American officer; and, by the most fortunate chance in the world, a
French vessel is on the point of sailing; conceive how happy I am. I am
going this evening to Charlestown, from whence I will write to you.
There is no important news. The campaign is opened, but there is no
fighting, or at least, very little. The manners in this part of the
world are simple, polite, and worthy in every respect of the country in
which the noble name of liberty is constantly repeated. I intended
writing to Madame d'Ayen, but I find it is impossible. Adieu, adieu, my
love. From Charlestown I shall repair, by land, to Philadelphia, to
rejoin the army. Is it not true that you will always love me?

Footnotes:

1. At the moment when M. de Lafayette's project of departure
was taking place, he had been desired to join the Duke d'Ayen, and
Madame de Tesse, his sister, who were setting out for Italy and
Sicily.

2. The first-born of M. de Lafayette, which died during his
voyage. (See letter 16th June, 1778.)

3. The Viscount de Noailles, brother-in-law to M. de Lafayette.

4. The Prince de Poix, son of the Marshal de Mouchy, and consequently
uncle, according to the mode of Bretagne, to Madame de Lafayette.

5. Mademoiselle Marin was governess to Mesdemoiselles de Noailles; and
the Abbe Fayon was tutor to M. de Lafayette.

6. Madame de Lafayette, author of the _Princess de Clever_, had only
one daughter, who became Madame de la Tremoille, and heiress to the
property of the Lafayette family; and who cheerfully consented to
restore to her cousins, who inhabited the province, those estates
which a love of their family might make them wish to conserve to the
heritors of the name of Lafayette. Since that period, the members of
that branch, of which M. de Lafayette was the last scion, have
constantly kept up feelings, not only of relationship, but of
friendship, with the family of la Tremoille.

7. An old valet de chambre.

8. The father of him who so generously devoted himself to save
Lafayette from the prisons of Olmutz--(Note of M. de Lafayette.)

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

June 19th, 1777, Charlestown.

If my last letter, my dearest love, written five or six days ago, was
closed hastily, I hope at least that the American captain, whom I then
believed to be a French one, will remit it to you as soon as possible.
That letter announced to you that I had landed safely in this country,
after having suffered a little from sea-sickness during the first weeks
of my voyage; that I was staying with a very kind officer, in whose
house I was received upon my arrival; that I had been nearly two months
at sea, and was anxious to continue my journey immediately; that letter
spoke of everything which interests my heart most deeply, of my regret
at having quitted you, of your pregnancy, and of our dear children; it
told you, also, that I was in perfect health. I repeat this extract
from it, because the English may very possibly amuse themselves by
seizing it on its way. I place, however, so much confidence in my lucky
star, that I hope it will reach you safely. That same star has
protected me to the astonishment of every person; you may, therefore,
trust a little to it in future, my love, and let this conviction
tranquillize your fears. I landed after having sailed for several days
along a coast swarming with hostile vessels. On my arrival here every
one told me that my ship must undoubtedly be taken, because two English
frigates had blockaded the harbour. I even sent, both by land and sea,
orders to the captain to put the men on shore, and burn the vessel, if
he had still the power of doing so. Well! by a most extraordinary piece
of good fortune, a sudden gale of wind having blown away the frigates
for a short time, my vessel arrived at noon-day, without having
encountered friend or foe. At Charlestown I have met with General Howe,
a general officer, now engaged in service. The governor of the state is
expected this evening from the country. All the persons with whom I
wished to be acquainted have shewn me the greatest attention and
politeness (not European politeness merely); I can only feel gratitude
for the reception I have met with, although I have not yet thought
proper to enter into any detail respecting my future prospects and
arrangements. I wish to see the congress first. I hope to set out in
two days for Philadelphia, which is a land journey of more than two
hundred and fifty leagues. We shall divide into small parties; I have
already purchased horses and light carriages for this purpose. There
are some French and American vessels at present here, who are to sail
out of the harbour in company to-morrow morning, taking advantage of a
moment when the frigates are out of sight: they are numerous and armed,
and have promised me to defend themselves stoutly against the small
privateers they will undoubtedly meet with. I shall distribute my
letters amongst the different ships, in case any accident should happen
to either one of them.

I shall now speak to you, my love, about the country and its
inhabitants, who are as agreeable as my enthusiasm had led me to
imagine. Simplicity of manner, kindness of heart, love of country and
of liberty, and a delightful state of equality, are met with
universally. The richest and the poorest man are completely on a level;
and although there are some immense fortunes in this country, I may
challenge any one to point out the slightest difference in their
respective manner towards each other. I first saw and judged of a
country life at Major Hughes's house: I am at present in the city,
where everything somewhat resembles the English customs, except that
you find more simplicity here than you would do in England. Charlestown
is one of the best built, handsomest, and most agreeable cities that I
have ever seen. The American women are very pretty, and have great
simplicity of character; and the extreme neatness of their appearance
is truly delightful: cleanliness is everywhere even more studiously
attended to here than in England. What gives me most pleasure is to see
how completely the citizens are all brethren of one family. In America
there are none poor, and none even that can be called peasants. Each
citizen has some property, and all citizens have the same rights as the
richest individual, or landed proprietor, in the country. The inns are
very different from those of Europe; the host and hostess sit at table
with you, and do the honours of a comfortable meal; and when you
depart, you pay your bill without being obliged to tax it. If you
should dislike going to inns, you may always find country houses in
which you will be received, as a good American, with the same attention
that you might expect in a friend's house in Europe.

My own reception has been most peculiarly agreeable. To have been
merely my travelling companion, suffices to secure the kindest welcome.
I have just passed five hours at a large dinner given in compliment to
me by an individual of this town. Generals Howe and Moultrie, and
several officers of my suite, were present. We drank each other's
health, and endeavoured to talk English, which I am beginning to speak
a little. I shall pay a visit to-morrow, with these gentlemen, to the
governor of the state, and make the last arrangements for my departure.
The next day, the commanding officers here will take me to see the town
and its environs, and I shall then set out to join the army. I must
close and send my letter immediately, because the vessel goes to-night
to the entrance of the harbour, and sails to-morrow at five o'clock. As
all the ships are exposed to some risk, I shall divide my letters
amongst them. I write to M M. de Coigny, de Poix, de Noailles, de
Segur, and to Madame d'Ayen.~[1] If either of these should not receive
my letter, be so kind as to mention this circumstance.

From the agreeable life I lead in this country, from the sympathy which
makes me feel as much at ease with the inhabitants as if I had known
them for twenty years, the similarity between their manner of thinking
and of my own, my love of glory and of liberty, you might imagine that
I am very happy: but you are not with me, my dearest love; my friends
are not with me; and there is no happiness for me when far from you and
them. I often ask you if you still love, but I put that question still
more often to myself and my heart ever answers, yes: I trust that heart
does not deceive me. I am inexpressibly anxious to hear from you; I
hope to find some letters at Philadelphia. My only fear is that the
privateer which was to bring them to me should have been captured on
her way. Although I can easily imagine that I have excited the especial
displeasure of the English, by taking the liberty of coming hither in
spite of them, and landing before their very face, yet I must confess
that we shall be even more than on a par if they succeed in catching
that vessel, the object of my fondest hopes, by which I am expecting to
receive your letters. I entreat you to send me both long and frequent
letters. You are not sufficiently conscious of the joy with which I
shall receive them. Embrace, most tenderly, my Henriette: may I add,
embrace our children? The father of those poor children is a wanderer,
but he is, nevertheless, a good, honest man,--a, good father, warmly
attached to his family, and a good husband also, for he loves his wife
most tenderly. Present my compliments to your friends and to mine; may
I not say _our_ friends? with the permission of the Countess Auguste
and Madame de Fronsac.~[2] By _my friends_, you know that I mean my own
dear circle, formerly of the court, and which afterwards became the
society of _the wooden sword_;~[3] we republicans like it the better
for the change. This letter will be given you by a French captain, who,
I think, will deliver it into your own hands; but I must confide to you
that I have an agreeable anticipation for to-morrow, which is to write
to you by an American, who will sail on the same day, but at a later
hour. Adieu, then, my dearest love; I must leave off for want of time
and paper; and if I do not repeat ten thousand times that I love you,
it is not from want of affection, but from my having the vanity to hope
that I have already convinced you of it. The night is far advanced, the
heat intense, and I am devoured by gnats; but the best countries, as
you perceive, have their inconveniences. Adieu, my love, adieu.

Footnotes:

1. The Viscount de Coigny, son of the last marshal of that name, was
the intimate friend of M. de Lafayette in his youth. He died young,
perhaps even during this voyage.--(See the letters of January the 6th,
and February 13th, 1778.) The Count de Segur, who had married the
sister of the Duchess d'Ayen, and who was, therefore, the uncle of M.
de Lafayette, continued, to the last, his friend--(See the memoirs
published before his death, which occurred in 1830.)

2. The Countess Auguste d'Aremberg, the wife of Count de Lamark, the
friend of Mirabeau, and the Duchess de Fronsac, daughter-in-law to the
Marshal de Richelieu.

3. A society of young men, who first assembled at Versailles, and
afterwards at an inn at Paris.--(Note by M. de Lafayette.)

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Petersburg, July 17th, 1777.

I am very happy, my dearest love, if the word happiness can truly be
applied to me, whilst I am separated from all I love; there is a vessel
on the point of sailing for France, and I am enabled to tell you,
before setting out for Philadelphia, that I love you, my dearest life,
and that you may be perfectly tranquil respecting my health. I bore the
fatigue of the journey without suffering from it; although the land
expedition was long and wearisome, yet the confinement of my melancholy
ship was far more so. I am now eight days' journey from Philadelphia,
in the beautiful state of Virginia. All fatigue is over, and I fear
that my martial labours will be very light, if it be true that General
Howe has left New York, to go I know not whither. But all the accounts
I receive are so uncertain, that I cannot form any fixed opinion until
I reach my destination; from thence, my love, I shall write you a long
letter. You must already have received four letters from me, if they
have not fallen into the hands of the English. I have received no news
of you, and my impatience to arrive at Philadelphia to hear, from you
cannot be compared to any other earthly feeling. Conceive the state of
my mind, after having passed such an immense length of time without,
having received a line from any friend! I hope all this will soon end,
for I cannot live in such a state of uncertainty. I have undertaken a
task which is, in truth, beyond my power, for my heart was not formed
for so much suffering.

You must have learnt the particulars of the commencement of my journey:
you know that I set out in a brilliant manner in a carriage, and I must
now tell you that we are all on horseback,--having broken the carriage,
according to my usual praiseworthy custom,--and I hope soon to write to
you that we have arrived on foot. The journey is somewhat fatiguing;
but although several of my comrades have suffered a great deal, I have
scarcely myself been conscious of fatigue. The captain who takes charge
of this letter will, perhaps, pay you a visit; I beg you in that case
to receive him with great kindness.

I scarcely dare think of the time of your confinement, and yet I think
of it every moment of the day. I cannot dwell upon it without the most
dreadful anxiety. I am, indeed, unfortunate, at being so distant from
you; even if you did not love me, you ought to pity me; but you do love
me, and we shall mutually render each other happy. This little note
will be short in comparison to the volumes I have already sent you, but
you shall receive another letter in a few days from me.

The farther I advance to the north, the better pleased am I with the
country and inhabitants. There is no attention or kindness that I do
not receive, although many scarcely know who I am. But I will write all
this to you more in detail from Philadelphia. I have only time to
intreat you, my dearest love, not to forget an unhappy man, who pays
most dearly for the error he committed in parting from you, and who
never felt before how tenderly he loved you.

My respectful compliments to Madame d'Ayen, and my affectionate regards
to my sisters. Tell M. de Coigny and M. de Poix that I am in good
health, in case some letters should miscarry which I shall send by
another opportunity, by which I shall also send a line to you, although
I do not consider it so secure as this one.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

July 23rd, 1777.

I am always meeting, my dearest love, with opportunities of sending
letters; I have this time only a quarter of an hour to give you. The
vessel is on the point of sailing, and I can only announce to you my
safe arrival at Annapolis, forty leagues from Philadelphia. I can tell
you nothing of the town, for, as I alighted from my horse, I armed
myself with a little weapon dipt in invisible ink. You must already
have received five letters from me, unless King George should have
received some of them. The last one was despatched three days since; in
it I announced to you that my health was perfectly good, and had not
been even impaired by my anxiety to arrive at Philadelphia. I have
received bad news here; Ticonderoga, the strongest American post, has
been forced by the enemy; this is very unfortunate, and we must
endeavour to repair the evil. Our troops have taken, in retaliation, an
English general officer, near New York. I am each day more miserable
from having quitted you, my dearest love; I hope to receive news of you
at Philadelphia, and this hope adds much to the impatience I feel to
arrive in that city. Adieu, my life; I am in such haste that I know not
what I write, but I do know that I love you more tenderly than ever;
that the pain of this separation were necessary to convince me how very
dear you are to me, and that I would give at this moment half my
existence for the pleasure of embracing you again, and telling you with
my own lips how well I love you. My respects to Madame d'Ayen, my
compliments to the viscountess, my sisters, and all my friends: to you
only have I time to write. O! if you knew how much I sigh to see you,
how much I suffer at being separated from you, and all that my heart
has been called on to endure, you would think me somewhat worthy of
your love! I have left no space for Henriette; may I say for my
children? Give them a hundred thousand embraces; I shall most heartily
share them with you.

TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

Philadelphia, September 12th, 1777.

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 reassure 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 reassuring 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 amusement 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.

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