Memoirs, Correspondence and Manuscripts of General Lafayette by Lafayette

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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 circumstance. 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 assistance 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 assist 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 nobility
in some provinces occasionally lay aside their marks of distinction to
reassume 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 circumstances
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 assurances of
it. You must have received so many accounts of my slight wound, that
all repetitions 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 constitute the felicity of my
future life! This country is delightful for the growth of filial and
paternal love: these feelings may even be termed passions, and give
rise to the most assiduous 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--God
knows when!--will carry it with her on her return to Europe. But it
will even then be very distant from you; and it is only after having
been soiled by the dirty hands of all the Spanish post-masters that it
will be allowed to pass the Pyrenees. It may very possibly be unsealed
and resealed five or six times before it be finally placed in your
hands; but it will prove to you that I neglect no opportunity, not even
the most indirect one, of sending you news of myself, and of repeating
how well I love you. It is, however, for my own satisfaction only that
I delight to tell you so at present; I hope that I shall have the
pleasure of throwing this letter in the fire when it arrives, for be it
understood I shall be there also, and my presence will render this
piece of paper very insignificant. The idea is most soothing to my
heart, and I indulge it with rapture. How enchanting to think of the
moments when we shall be together! but how painful also to recollect
that my joy is only caused by an illusion, and that I am separated from
the reality of my happiness by two thousand leagues, an immense ocean,
and villanous English vessels! Those wretched vessels make me very
unhappy. One letter, one letter only, have I yet received from you, my
love; the others have been lost or taken, and are probably at the
bottom of the sea. I must consider our enemy the cause of this dreadful
loss; for I am certain you do not neglect to write to me from every
port, and by all the despatches sent by Dr. Franklin and Mr. Deane. And
yet some ships arrived; I have sent couriers to every corner of the
continent; but all my hopes have been frustrated. Perhaps you have not
been properly informed. I entreat you, my love, to inquire carefully in
what manner you may best send your letters. It is so dreadful for me to
be deprived of them, and I am so unhappy at being separated from all I
love! I am guilty, it is true, of having caused my own calamity; but
you would pity me if you knew all that my heart endured.

But why tell you news in a letter destined to travel about the world
for years, which will reach you perhaps in shreds, and will represent
antiquity personified? My other despatches must have informed you of
the various events of the campaign. The battle of Brandywine, in which
I most skilfully lost a small part of my leg; the taking possession of
Philadelphia, which will by no means, however, be attended with the ill
consequences which have been expected in Europe; the attack of a post
at Germantown, at which I was not present, from having received a
recent wound, and which did not prove successful; the surrender of
General Burgoyne, with five thousand men--that same Burgoyne who wished
to devour us all, last spring, but who finds himself this autumn the
prisoner of war of our northern army; and finally, our present
situation, stationed immediately opposite each other, at four leagues
distance, and General Howe established at Philadelphia, making great
exertion to take certain forts, and having already lost in the attempt
one large and one small vessel. You are now quite as well informed on
the subject as if you were general-in-chief of either army. I need only
at this moment add, that the wound of the 11th of September, of which I
have spoken to you a thousand times, is almost completely healed,
although I am still a little lame, but that in a few days there will
scarcely remain any traces of this accident. All these details will be
given you very circumstantially by my friend Mr. de Valfort, to whom I
have given a letter for you, and on whose accounts you may implicitly
rely. I have just learnt that he has sailed, not, as I expected, in a
packet, but in a good frigate of thirty- five guns: it would be unlucky
indeed if he were taken. From his lips, and the epistle which I
confided to him five or six days ago, you will learn all that your
affection for me may make you wish to know. I wish you also knew the
precise day of my return, and I am most impatient to fix that day
myself, and to be able to say to you, in the joy of my heart,--upon
such a day I set out to rejoin you, and obtain all earthly happiness.

A little gentleman, in a blue coat, with lemon-coloured facings and a
white waistcoat, a German, coming hither to solicit an employment,
(which he will not obtain,) and speaking wretched French, told me that
he quitted Europe in the month of August: he talked to me of politics
and of the ministry; he upset all Europe generally, and every court
individually; but he knew not a word of what was most interesting to my
heart. I examined him in every way; I mentioned fifty names to him; his
answer was always, _"Me not know them noblemen_."

I will not weary you with a long account of the state of my finances.
The accident which occurred to my vessel was a source of vexation to
me, because that vessel would have been useful to me in the present
settlement of my affairs; but it is no longer in being, and I should
reproach myself with having sent it back, had I not been obliged to
make its return a clause in my engagements, on account of my
minority.~[1] Everything here is incredibly dear. We feel the
consolation of the malevolent in thinking that the scarcity is still
greater in Philadelphia. In time of war, we become reconciled to all we
may ourselves endure by making our enemies suffer ten times more. We
have here an abundance of provisions, and we learn with pleasure that
our English neighbours are not so fortunate.

Do not think at present of being uneasy on my account; all the hard
blows are over, and there can be, at most, but some little miniature
strokes, which cannot concern me; I am not less secure in this camp
than I should be were I in the centre of Paris. If every possible
advantage to be attained by serving here; if the friendship of the army
in gross and in detail; if a tender union with the most respectable and
admirable of men, General Washington, sustained by mutual confidence;
if the affection of those Americans by whom I wish to be beloved; if
all this were sufficient to constitute my happiness, I should indeed
have nothing to desire. But my heart is far from being tranquil. You
would compassionate me, if you knew how much that heart suffers, and
how well it loves you!

The present season of the year makes me hope to receive some letters.
What may they announce to me? what may I hope? O, my dearest love, how
cruel it is to endure this painful anxiety, under circumstances which
are so all-important to my happiness! Have I two children? have I
another infant to share my tender affection with my dearest Henriette?
Embrace my dear little girl a thousand times for me; embrace them both
tenderly, my dearest life. I trust they will know one day how well I
love them.

A thousand respectful compliments to Madame d'Ayen; a thousand tender
ones to the viscountess and my sisters; to my friends a million of kind
regards; remember me to every one. Adieu! take care of your own health;
give me circumstantial details of all things; believe that I love you
more than ever, that you are the first object of my affection, and the
surest guarantee of my felicity. The sentiments so deeply engraven on a
heart which belongs to you alone, shall remain, whilst that heart
continues to vibrate. Will you, too, always love me, my dearest life? I
dare believe it, and that we shall mutually render each other happy by
an affection equally tender and eternal. Adieu, adieu! how delightful
would it be to embrace you at this moment, and say to you with my own
lips, I love thee better than I have ever loved, and I shall love thee
for the remainder of my life.

Footnotes:

1. It will be seen by the memoirs that that vessel was wrecked on the
bar of Charlestown.

TO GENERAL WASHINGTON.~[1]

(ORIGINAL.)

Haddonfield, the 26th November, 1777.

Dear General,--I went down to this place since the day before
yesterday, in order to be acquainted of all the roads and grounds
around the enemy. I heard at my arrival that their main body was
between Great and Little Timber Creek since the same evening. Yesterday
morning, in reconnoitering about, I have been told that they were very
busy in crossing the Delaware. I saw them myself in their boats, and
sent that intelligence to General Greene as soon as possible, as every
other thing I heard of. But I want to acquaint your excellency of a
little event of last evening, which, though not very considerable in
itself, will certainly please you, on account of the bravery and
alacrity a small party of ours shewed on that occasion. After having
spent the most part of the day to make myself well acquainted with the
certainty of their motions, I came pretty late into the Gloucester
road, between the two creeks. I had ten light-horse with Mr. Lindsey,
almost a hundred and fifty riflemen, under Colonel Buttler, and two
piquets of the militia, commanded by Colonels Hite and Ellis: my whole
body was not three hundred. Colonel Armand, Colonel Laumoy, the
chevaliers Duplessis and Gimat, were the Frenchmen who went with me. A
scout of my men, with whom was Mr. Duplessis, to see how near were the
first piquets from Gloucester, found at two miles and a half of it a
strong post of three hundred and fifty Hessians with field-pieces,
(what number I did know, by the unanimous deposition of their
prisoners,) and engaged immediately. As my little reconnoitering party
was all in fine spirits, I supported them. We pushed the Hessians more
than an half mile from the place where was their main body, and we made
them run very fast: British reinforcements came twice to them, but,
very far from recovering their ground, they went always back. The
darkness of the night prevented us then to push that advantage, and,
after standing upon the ground we had got, I ordered them to return
very slow to Haddonfield. The enemy, knowing perhaps by our drums that
we were not so near, came again to fire at us; but the brave Major
Moriss, with a part of his riflemen, sent them back, and pushed them
very fast. I understand that they have had between twenty-five and
thirty wounded, at least that number killed, among whom I am certain,
is an officer; some say more, and the prisoners told me they have lost
the commandant of that body; we got yet, this day, fourteen prisoners.
I sent you the most moderate account I had from themselves. We left one
single man killed, a lieutenant of militia, and only five of ours were
wounded. Such is the account of our little entertainment, which is
indeed much too long for the matter, but I take the greatest pleasure
to let you know that the conduct of our soldiers is above all praises:
I never saw men so merry, so spirited, so desirous to go on to the
enemy, whatever forces they could have, as that small party was in this
little fight. I found the riflemen above even their reputation, and the
militia above all expectations I could have: I returned to them my very
sincere thanks this morning. I wish that this little success of ours
may please you, though a very trifling one, I find it very interesting
on account of the behaviour of our soldiers.

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