Chapter XV: America’s Message to France--“lafayette, (3)

In December, 1777, Washington’s army went into winter quarters at Valley Forge. That winter was to test the courage and endurance of the soldiers, for they were ill-clad, ill-provisioned, and the road to victory appeared a long and weary one. Fortunately the commander-in-chief was a man of intrepid soul, one who could instill confidence into the men about him.

Lafayette quickly found that all the people of the young republic were not in agreement about the war. Men called Tories joined the British army, and in countless other ways hampered the work of Congress. Business was at such a standstill that it was almost impossible to obtain clothing, shoes, and the other supplies that were so urgently needed, and as Congress had no power to impose and collect taxes it was hard to raise any money. The different states had each its jealousies of the others and each its own ends to serve, and indeed in 1777 the union was so loosely knitted that it was a wonder that it held together at all.

Washington had chosen Valley Forge as his winter quarters because from there he could watch the enemy, keep the British to their own picket lines, and cut off supplies going into Philadelphia. Otherwise, however, the place had little to recommend it. The farmhouses in the neighborhood could hold only a few of the two thousand men who were on the sick-list, whose shoeless feet were torn and frozen from marching and who were ill from hunger and exposure. For the rest the soldiers had to build their own shelters, and they cut logs in the woods, covered them with mud, and made them into huts, each of which had to house fourteen men. There the American troops, lacking necessary food and blankets, shivered and almost starved during the long winter.

There were times when Washington would have liked to make a sortie or an attack on the enemy, but his men were not in condition for it. Constantly he wrote to Congress, urging relief for his army. Once a number of members of Congress paid a visit to Valley Forge, and later sent a remonstrance to the commander-in-chief, urging him not to keep his army in idleness but to march on Philadelphia. To this Washington answered, “I can assure those gentlemen that it is a much easier and less distressing thing to draw remonstrances in a comfortable room, by a good fireside, than to occupy a cold, bleak hill, and sleep under frost and snow, without clothes or blankets. However, although they seem to have little feeling for the naked and distressed soldiers, I feel superabundantly for them; and from my soul I pity those miseries, which it is neither in my power to relieve nor prevent.”

All those hardships Lafayette also shared, setting his men an example of patience and fortitude that did much to help them through the rigorous winter, and winning again and again the praise of his commander for his devotion.

In the meantime some men of influence, known as the “Conway Cabal,” from the name of one of the leaders, plotted to force Washington from the chief command, and put General Greene in his place. They wanted to use Lafayette as a catspaw, and decided that the first step was to separate him from Washington’s influence. With this object in view they planned an invasion of Canada, the command of the expedition to be given to Lafayette. But Lafayette saw through the plotting, and refused to lead the expedition except under Washington’s orders and with De Kalb as his second in command. He also showed where he stood when he was invited to York to meet some of the members of Congress and generals who were opposing his leader. At a dinner given in his honor he rose, and, lifting his glass, proposed a toast to “The health of George Washington, our noble commander-in-chief!” The party had to drink the toast, and they saw that the Frenchman was not to be swerved from his loyalty to his chief.

Congress had decided on the expedition to Canada, though the conspirators now saw that their plot had failed, and so Lafayette set out for Albany in February, 1778, to take command of the army of invasion. But when he got there he found that nothing had been done by way of preparation, and that none of those in authority were able to help him. Twelve hundred ill-provided men were all he could raise, altogether too few and too poorly armed for such an ambitious enterprise. Very much disappointed, he had to give up the idea of leading such an army. More and more he grew convinced that all the hopes of America rested on Washington.

That Washington might know his feelings, Lafayette wrote to him. “Take away for an instant,” he said, “that modest diffidence of yourself (which, pardon my freedom, my dear general, is sometimes too great, and I wish you could know, as well as myself, what difference there is between you and any other man), and you would see very plainly that, if you were lost for America, there is no one who could keep the army and the revolution for six months.... I am now fixed to your fate, and I shall follow it and sustain it as well by my sword as by all means in my power. You will pardon my importunity in favor of the sentiment which dictated it.”

Washington was no less devoted to Lafayette. When the latter returned disappointed from Albany the commander said to him, “However sensibly your ardor for glory may make you feel this disappointment you may be assured that your character stands as fair as it ever did, and that no new enterprise is necessary to wipe off an imaginary stain.”

And Washington’s view was now so strongly held by Congress that it immediately voted that it had “a high sense of the prudence, activity, and zeal of the Marquis de Lafayette,” and that it was “fully persuaded nothing has, or would have been, wanting on his part or on the part of the officers who accompanied him to give the expedition the utmost possible effect.”

Lafayette went back to Valley Forge to cheer his soldiers, and there, early in May, 1778, news came that Benjamin Franklin had succeeded in his efforts in France and that the government of Louis XVI. had decided on “armed interference” in the affairs of America, and that a treaty of alliance had been signed between the United States and the French king.

The army at Valley Forge was wild with delight at this news. How it must have cheered Lafayette to know that his own country now stood with the young republic of the west! Washington proclaimed a holiday and held a review of his troops. Then the commander planned a new and more vigorous campaign.

The British, now foreseeing possible French as well as American attack, decided to give up Philadelphia and fall back on New York. Washington learned of this, and in order to keep a check on the movements of his opponents, he sent Lafayette with a strong force of two thousand picked men to keep as close to the British lines as possible.

Lafayette joyfully led his command to a ridge called Barren Hill that overlooked the Schuylkill. From here he could watch the road from Philadelphia, and he at once fortified his camp. British scouts brought reports of this to their generals, and the latter decided it would be a capital plan to defeat the Frenchman’s forces and capture the Marquis. This they considered so easy to accomplish that Generals Howe and Clinton sent out invitations to their friends to a dinner at their headquarters “to meet Monsieur the Marquis de Lafayette.”

On the morning of May twentieth eight thousand British and Hessian soldiers with fifteen pieces of artillery marched out of Philadelphia by one road to take Lafayette in the rear, while by another road a force of grenadiers and cavalry marched to attack his right wing, and a third column, commanded by Generals Howe and Clinton in person, with the admiral, Lord Howe, accompanying them as a volunteer, took a third road to attack the Marquis in front. In this way the enemy forces were completely surrounding the American position, except on the side of the river, by which they considered escape impossible.

Lafayette was talking with a young woman who had agreed to go into Philadelphia and try to obtain information on the pretext of visiting her relations there, when word was brought him that redcoats had been seen in the rear. He was expecting a small force of dragoons, and his first idea was that it was these who were approaching. But, being a prudent commander, he at once sent out scouts, and these quickly reported the advance of a large force. Immediately he made a change of front under cover of the stone houses and the woods. Then messengers dashed up with news of the real state of affairs. His little command was about to be attacked in a three-cornered fight by an overwhelming number of the enemy.

It was a ticklish position, and Lafayette came within a hair’s breadth of being trapped and captured. His men called out to him that he was completely surrounded. In the confusion of the moment he had to keep on smiling, as he afterward said. It was a test fit to try the skill of a much more experienced general than the young Frenchman. But this one had studied his ground thoroughly, and lost not a moment in deciding on his course. Back of his men was a road, hidden from the British by trees, which led to a little-used crossing known as Matson’s Ford, a place unknown to the enemy, though they were, as a matter of fact, much nearer to it than Lafayette was.

The Marquis quickly threw out “false heads of columns,” that is, a few men here and there, who were to march through the woods at different points, and give the impression that his whole army was advancing to battle. The British general saw these “false heads” and, taking them to be the advance guards of the Americans, halted to form his lines. Meantime Lafayette sent all his other troops at the double-quick down the hidden road and across the ford, bringing up the rear himself and waiting until he was joined by the men who had formed the false columns.

The small American army was almost all across the ford before the enemy realized his mistake and began to attack. Then, as the three British columns climbed the hill to crush the Americans according to their plans, they met only each other. They tried to make an attack on Lafayette’s rear, but by that time he was out of their reach. He crossed the Schuylkill and reached the camp at Valley Forge without the loss of a single man, to the great delight and relief of Washington, who had heard of the danger in which Lafayette stood and had ordered signal guns fired to warn him of it.

Lafayette had a good story to tell the commander-in-chief on his return. A small body of Indian warriors had been stationed in ambush to attack any stray parties of the enemy. As the Indians lay in the bushes they saw a company of grenadiers in tall bearskin hats and scarlet coats coming up the road. Never having seen such men as these before the Indians were seized with terror, threw down their arms, and yelling as loud as they could, made a dash for the river. The grenadiers, on their part, seeing the painted faces and hearing the yells, thought they had come on a crowd of devils, and hurried away as fast as they could in the opposite direction.

Washington complimented Lafayette on what had really amounted to a victory, the bringing his men in safety from an attack by overwhelming forces, and advised Congress of the Frenchman’s “timely and handsome retreat in great order.”

And so Generals Howe and Clinton were unable to present to their guests at the dinner at their headquarters that evening “Monsieur the Marquis de Lafayette,” as they had intended.

If the British generals meant to use their armies in the field it was clear that they could not stay in Philadelphia indefinitely. As Franklin said, instead of their having taken Philadelphia, Philadelphia had taken them. They had spent the winter there in idleness, and unless they purposed to spend the summer there in the same fashion they must be on the move. Washington foresaw this, and called a council of war to decide on plans for his forces, and at this council General Charles Lee, who was then second in command, insisted that the Americans were not strong enough to offer effective opposition to the enemy, although Generals Greene, Wayne, Cadwalader, and Lafayette expressed contrary opinions. Then, early in the morning of June 18, 1778, General Howe’s army evacuated Philadelphia, and crossed the Delaware on their way to New York.

Washington instantly prepared to follow. General Maxwell was sent out in advance with a division of militia to impede the enemy’s progress by burning bridges and throwing trees across the roads. The bulk of the American army followed, and when they arrived near Princeton, in New Jersey, Washington called another council. Here Lafayette made a stirring plea for immediate action. But Lee again opposed this, and the council decided, against Washington’s own judgment, not to bring on a general engagement with the enemy.

Almost immediately, however, the advance of General Clinton threatened one of the American detachments, and Lee was ordered to check this. He declined to do so, saying it was contrary to the decision of the council of war. At once the command was given to Lafayette, who took the appointment with the greatest eagerness.

But the Marquis had hardly more than planned his advance when General Lee interfered again. The latter saw that if the movement was successful all the honor of it would go to Lafayette, and this was not at all according to his wishes. So he appealed to Washington to replace him in his command, and also went to Lafayette and asked the latter to retire in his favor. “I place my fortune and my honor in your hands,” he said; “you are too generous to destroy both the one and the other.”

He was right; Lafayette was too chivalrous to refuse such a request. Lee had placed Washington in an awkward situation, but the Frenchman’s tact and good-feeling, qualities which had already greatly endeared him to all the Americans he had met, relieved the commander-in-chief of the need of offending Lee. Lafayette immediately wrote to Washington, “I want to repeat to you in writing what I have told to you; which is, that if you believe it, or if it is believed, necessary or useful to the good of the service and the honor of General Lee to send him down with a couple of thousand men or any greater force, I will cheerfully obey and serve him, not only out of duty, but out of what I owe to that gentleman’s character.”

No wonder Washington liked a man who could be so unselfish as that! He gave the command back to Lee, and arranged that Lafayette should lead the advance.

Early the following morning Washington ordered an attack on the British at Monmouth Court House, and on June 28, 1778, the battle of Monmouth was fought. The result might have been very different if Lafayette, and not Lee, had been in command. For Lee delayed, and when he did finally move forward he assaulted what he thought was a division of the enemy, but what turned out to be the main body. He was driven back, tried another attack, got his officers confused by his contradictory orders, and at last gave the word for a retreat, which threatened to become a rout. At this point Washington rode up, questioned the officers, got no satisfactory answer as to what had happened, and was so indignant that when he reached General Lee he took the latter to task in the strongest terms. Then he gave instant orders to make a stand, and by his superb control of the situation succeeded in having his men repulse all further attacks.

Lafayette meantime had led his cavalry in a charge, had done his best to stem the retreat, and when Washington arrived reformed his line upon a hill, and with the aid of a battery drove back the British. By his efforts and those of the commander-in-chief the day was finally partly saved and the American army manœuvred out of disaster.

Night came on and the troops camped where they were. Washington, wrapped in his cloak, slept at the foot of a tree, with Lafayette beside him. And when they woke in the morning they found that the enemy had stolen away, leaving their wounded behind them.

So the honors of war at Monmouth, in spite of General Lee, lay with Washington. The enemy, however, escaped across New Jersey and reached New York without any further attacks by the Americans.

When Sir Henry Clinton arrived near Sandy Hook he found the English fleet riding at anchor in the lower bay, having just come from the Delaware. Heavy storms had broken through the narrow strip of sand that connects Sandy Hook with the mainland, and it was now divided by a deep channel. A bridge was made of the ships’ boats, and Clinton’s army crossed over to the Hook, and was distributed on Long Island, Staten Island, and in New York. In the meantime Washington moved his troops from Monmouth to Paramus, where the Americans rested.

Now a French fleet of fourteen frigates and twelve battle-ships, under the command of Count d’Estaing, reached the mouth of the Delaware at about that time. Monsieur Gérard, the minister sent to the United States by the court of France, and Silas Deane, were on board, and when D’Estaing heard that Lord Howe’s squadron had left the Delaware he sent Gérard and Deane up to Philadelphia in a frigate, and sailed along the coast to Sandy Hook, where he saw the English fleet at anchor inside. He had considerable advantage over Lord Howe in point of strength, and at once prepared to attack the enemy squadron. Anticipating this, Washington crossed the Hudson River at King’s Ferry, and on July twentieth took up a position at White Plains.

The French fleet, however, could not make the attack. They could find no pilots who were willing to take the large ships into New York harbor, for all the pilots agreed that there was not enough water there, and the French admiral’s own soundings confirmed their opinion.

Washington and D’Estaing therefore agreed on a joint expedition against Newport, in Rhode Island. Washington sent orders to General Sullivan at Providence to ask the states of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island to supply enough militia to make up an army of five thousand men. At the same time he sent Lafayette with two thousand men from the Hudson to Providence to support the French naval attack.

On July twenty-ninth the French fleet reached Point Judith and anchored about five miles from Newport. General Sullivan and Lafayette and some other officers went on board to make plans for the joint attack. The British troops numbered about six thousand men, and they were strongly intrenched. The allies had some four thousand men on the French ships and between nine and ten thousand Americans at Providence.

Disputes arose as to the best plan of campaign; it was argued whether the men of the two nations would fight better separately or together. Then the English fleet appeared in the distance, and D’Estaing, considering that it was his chief business to destroy the enemy squadron, at once stood out to sea. A violent storm came up, driving the two fleets apart, and doing great damage to ships on both sides. When the storm subsided D’Estaing insisted on sailing his fleet to Boston to make needed repairs, and so the joint expedition came to an end, without having struck a blow. General Sullivan’s plans were in confusion. Lafayette rode to Boston and begged the French admiral to come back as soon as he could. At last D’Estaing promised to land his sailors and march them overland to Newport; but before he could do this the British were strongly reinforced, and Lafayette had to gallop back to protect his own rear-guard forces. The Americans were in peril, but again, as at Monmouth, he was able to save them from defeat.

There was great disappointment over the failure of the attack on Newport, and this was increased by the feeling that there had been disputes between the American and French commanders. Lafayette had all he could do to make each side appreciate the other. In this he was greatly helped by Washington, who wrote to both the French and the American generals, soothing their discontent, patching up their differences, and urging future union for the sake of the common cause.

It was now autumn, and there was little prospect of a further campaign that year. Wearied by the many misunderstandings, distressed by the failure of the joint attack, homesick and sad over the news of the death of his little daughter in France, Lafayette decided to ask for a leave of absence and go back to France on furlough. In October he reached Philadelphia and presented his request. Washington, much as he disliked to lose Lafayette’s services even for a short time, seconded his wishes. And Congress, which only sixteen months before had hesitated to accept his services, now did all it could to pay him the greatest honor. It thanked him for his high assistance and zeal, it directed the American minister in Paris to present him with a sword of honor, and it ordered its best war-ship, the frigate _Alliance_, to convey him to France. Henry Laurens, the president of Congress, wrote to King Louis XVI. that Congress could not allow Lafayette to depart without testifying its appreciation of his courage, devotion, patience, and the uniform excellence of conduct which had won the confidence of the United States and the affection of its citizens.

And finally Monsieur Gérard, the French minister at Philadelphia, wrote to his government in Paris, “You know how little inclined I am to flattery, but I cannot resist saying that the prudent, courageous, and amiable conduct of the Marquis de Lafayette has made him the idol of the Congress, the army, and the people of America.”

With words like these ringing in his ears, Lafayette said good-bye to George Washington in October, 1778, and rode away from camp, bound for Boston, where he was to board the frigate _Alliance_.

VII

THE FRENCHMAN IN THE FIELD AGAIN

Lafayette, on his way to board the _Alliance_, rode into the town of Fishkill-on-the-Hudson, and there fell ill of fever. He had been entertained by people all the way from Philadelphia to the camp on the Hudson, and these constant receptions, combined with chilly and wet weather, brought on malaria. The Marquis was very sick; Washington rode daily from his camp eight miles away to inquire about Lafayette’s condition, and insisted on his own physician taking charge of the patient. And when the young Frenchman recovered the commander-in-chief sent his physician on to Boston with him, and wrote him, “I am persuaded, my dear marquis, that there is no need of fresh proofs to convince you either of my affection for you personally or of the high opinion I entertain of your military talents and merit.”

The strongest affection bound these two men, so different in many respects, so alike in their love of liberty and honor. On board his ship in Boston Harbor Lafayette added a postscript to a letter to Washington. “The sails are just going to be hoisted, my dear general,” he said, “and I have but time to take my last leave of you.... Farewell. I hope your French friend will ever be dear to you; I hope I shall soon see you again, and tell you myself with what emotion I now leave the coast you inhabit and with what affection and respect I am forever, my dear general, your respectful and sincere friend, Lafayette.”

On January 11, 1779, the _Alliance_ sailed for France, having had so much difficulty in making up its crew that a number of English prisoners and deserters had been pressed into service as sailors. This makeshift crew came very near to proving disastrous for the Marquis. An English law offered to pay the full value of any American ship to the crew that would bring it into an English port, and there were considerably more English prisoners and deserters in the crew of the _Alliance_ than there were American and French sailors. The _Alliance_ was approaching the French coast, having just weathered a storm, when a sailor ran into the cabin where the officers were sitting. He said that the prisoners and deserters who had been pressed into service had planned a mutiny, and that, taking him for an Irishman, they had offered him the command in case of success. A lookout was to give the signal “Sail ho!” and as the officers came on deck in a group they were to be shot down by cannon loaded with grape-shot and the ship sailed into an English port, where the mutineers would divide the profits. The loyal American sailor said that the signal would be given in about an hour.

Immediately the officers seized their swords, and, rushing on deck, called the Americans and Frenchmen together. The thirty-three mutineers, taken by surprise, were captured and clapped into irons, and the rest of the crew sailed the _Alliance_ into the French harbor of Brest a week later.

Here Lafayette was welcomed with delight. The young fellow who had run away to sea in the _Victory_ was returning like a hero in a war-ship of the new American republic. In triumph he landed at Brest, and as he hurried to Paris to see his family he was greeted by joyful crowds all along his route. He stopped at the royal palace of Versailles, and his old friend Marie Antoinette came out into the gardens to hear him tell his adventures. King Louis sent for him, and ordered him under arrest as a deserter, but with a twinkling eye declared that his prison should be his father-in-law’s great house in Paris, and his jailer his wife Adrienne. Then the King forgave him for running away to America, congratulated him, and, with his ministers, consulted the Marquis about affairs in the United States. Lafayette said, “I had the honor of being consulted by all the ministers and, what was a great deal better, of being kissed by all the women.”

The welcome he cared for the most was that from his wife, who had followed him in her thoughts all the time he had been in America, and had always sympathized with him and wished success for his plans. The Duke d’Ayen was delighted to see him and welcomed him to his house with open arms. Whenever the Marquis appeared on the street he was cheered by admiring throngs. The actors in the theatres put special words in their parts to honor Lafayette; poems were written about him; and the young man of twenty-one became the lion of Paris.

In a sense he represented the connecting link in the alliance that now united the two countries, and that alliance was in great favor with the people. He also stood for that ideal of “liberty” which was rapidly becoming the ruling thought of France. It would have been easy for him to rest on his laurels now, and feel that he had accomplished all that was needed of him.

But instead he used all this hero-worship to further his one aim--more help for the young republic across the sea. “In the midst of the whirl of excitement by which I was carried along,” he said, “I never lost sight of the revolution, the success of which still seemed to me to be extremely uncertain; accustomed as I was to seeing great purposes accomplished with slender means, I used to say to myself that the cost of a single fête would have equipped the army of the United States, and in order to provide clothes for them I would gladly have stripped the palace at Versailles.”

With this desire to help the United States ever in his thoughts he went to see Benjamin Franklin, and with Franklin and the American sea-captain John Paul Jones he planned an expedition against England in which he should lead the land forces and Paul Jones command the fleet. While they were arranging this the French government suggested a greater plan. Spain was to unite with France in defense of America. Details were being worked out when John Paul Jones embarked in his ship, the _Bon Homme Richard_, and had his famous sea-fight with the _Serapis_. But the Spanish government delayed and at last the French gave up the idea of a joint attack on England.

Meantime Lafayette joined the French army again and was commissioned a colonel of the King’s Dragoons. While he was waiting at Havre he was presented by Franklin’s grandson with the sword that the Congress of the United States had ordered should be given to him. It was a beautiful sword; the handle was of gold, exquisitely wrought, and decorated, as well as the blade, with figures emblematical of Lafayette’s career in America, with his coat of arms and his motto, “_Cur non?_”

And while he waited he was always impatient to be of help to his friends across the Atlantic. To Washington he wrote, “However happy I find myself in France, however well treated by my country and my king, I am so accustomed to being near to you, I am bound to you, to America, to my companions in arms by such an affection, that the moment when I sail for your country will be among the happiest and most wished for of my life.”

His great work during that year he spent in France was the winning of a French army, under the Count de Rochambeau, to fight by the side of the Americans. There was opposition to this at first, for neither Louis XVI. nor Marie Antoinette nor the royal princes who surrounded them cared to encourage the spirit of liberty too far. But the people, backed by their hero, Lafayette, demanded it, and at last their persistency won the day. The government of France decided to send an army, commanded by Rochambeau, lieutenant-general of the royal forces, with a fleet of warships and transports and six thousand soldiers, to the aid of America.

Lafayette was sent ahead to carry the welcome news to Washington and Congress, and to let them know that there would be no more of the jealousies and disputes that had hindered the success of the French and Americans in the field before. For Lafayette had arranged that the French troops should be under Washington’s orders, that they should accept the leadership of the American officers on the latter’s own ground, and that officers of the United States should be recognized as having equal rank with those of France. This harmony that Lafayette secured had a great deal to do with the final successful outcome of the American Revolution.

He sailed on the French frigate _Hermione_, and reached Boston on April 28, 1780. The people of Boston escorted him with cheers to the house of Governor John Hancock on Beacon Hill. This was the same John Hancock who had once turned Lafayette over to Gouverneur Morris with scarcely a word of welcome, but he greeted him differently now. Instead of being an adventurous foreign recruit the Marquis was a major-general in the American army and the official representative of the court of France.

From Boston he went to Morristown, where Washington had his headquarters, and there the two friends discussed the situation. Lafayette told of the coming of the French fleet and army, which brought the greatest joy to the commander-in-chief, because he could only speak of the hardships his soldiers had borne during the winter, the difficulty of securing recruits, and the general discouragement of the country. Greatly cheered himself, he sent Lafayette to Philadelphia to make his report to Congress, and set himself to the work of rousing his army and the people to welcome the men from France.

In Philadelphia Lafayette received the thanks of Congress for his services in Europe, and then busied himself with the equipment of the army. Washington’s troops certainly needed some attention. Half-fed and half-clothed, with only four thousand out of six thousand soldiers fit for duty, they presented so sorry an appearance that Lafayette said to the president of Congress, “though I have been directed to furnish the French court and the French generals with early and minute intelligence, I confess that pride has stopped my pen and, notwithstanding past promises, I have avoided entering into any details till our army is put in a better and more decent situation.”

But Washington roused Congress and the country, and by the time the French fleet arrived the American army was in much better condition.

On July 10, 1780, the Count de Rochambeau, with the French army, reached Newport, and the French commander, informing Washington of his arrival, declared, as his government had instructed him, “We are now, sir, under your command.”

Plans had to be laid, arrangements made for the union of the French and American armies, and much time was taken up in military discussions. One of Lafayette’s pet schemes was broached again, the invasion of Canada by the joint forces, and the details of this invasion were entrusted to General Benedict Arnold, who was to be in command. On September twentieth Washington, with Lafayette and General Knox, met the Count de Rochambeau and Admiral de Terney, who commanded the French fleet, and final arrangements were made. But at this very moment events were taking place which were to frustrate the scheme.

For at the very moment when Washington and Rochambeau were in conference at Hartford Benedict Arnold and Major John André, of the British army, were holding a secret meeting, the object of which was to give Washington’s plans to the enemy. It so happened that Washington, when he left Hartford with Knox and Lafayette, took a roundabout road in order to show the Marquis the fortifications which had been built at West Point in his absence. On the morning of September twenty-fourth the party of American officers arrived within a mile of the Robinson house, where Mrs. Benedict Arnold was expecting them at breakfast.

Washington, absorbed in his work, was about to ride on when Lafayette reminded him of Mrs. Arnold’s invitation. The commander-in-chief laughed. “Ah, Marquis,” he said, “you young men are all in love with Mrs. Arnold. I see you are eager to be with her as soon as possible. Go and breakfast with her, and tell her not to wait for me. I must ride down and examine the redoubts on this side of the river, but will be with her shortly.”

Lafayette and Knox, however, preferred to ride on with the General, and the message was sent to the Robinson house by Colonel Hamilton and Major McHenry. Mrs. Arnold, who had lately joined her husband there with her baby, welcomed her guests and entertained them at breakfast. It was a trying situation for her husband, for it happened that that was the very day on which he was to make his final arrangements with the British.

While they sat at the breakfast-table a messenger galloped up to the door with a letter for Arnold. He opened it and read that André had been captured, and the secret papers found upon him had been sent to Washington. Arnold rose from the table and beckoned his wife to follow him to her room. There he told her that he was a ruined man and must fly for his life. Leaving her fainting on the floor, he left the house, mounted the messenger’s horse, and dashed down to the river through a ravine. There he boarded his boat, and was rowed rapidly down the river to the English ship _The Vulture_.

Almost immediately after Arnold’s hurried departure Washington, Lafayette, and Knox reached the Robinson house. The commander supposed that Arnold had gone to West Point to prepare for his reception, and, having eaten a hasty breakfast, Washington and his companions crossed the river. No salute, however, was fired at their approach, and Colonel Lamb, the officer in command, came and apologized, saying that he had received no information of Washington’s visit.

“Is not General Arnold here?” Washington inquired.

“No, sir,” said Lamb. “He has not been here for two days, nor have I heard from him in that time.”

Somewhat surprised, but still unsuspicious, Washington and the others spent the morning examining the works.

As they rode back to the Robinson house about noon they were met by Colonel Hamilton, who took Washington aside, and handed him the secret papers that had been found on André. At once the whole plot was clear. Washington sent Hamilton immediately to arrest Arnold, but the Colonel found that the man had already flown. Then the commander-in-chief told the news to Lafayette and Knox, and, saying how much he had always trusted General Arnold, added, “Whom can we trust now?”

It was Lafayette who later tried to comfort Mrs. Arnold, when the full realization of her husband’s disgrace almost drove her to despair. And he sat with the other general officers at a court-martial in the headquarters at Tappan on the Hudson when John André, adjutant-general of the British army, after a fair trial, was convicted of being a spy and was sentenced to be hung. But Lafayette was a very generous judge, and wrote of André later, “He was a very interesting man; he conducted himself in a manner so frank, so noble, and so delicate, that I cannot help feeling for him an infinite pity.”

The treason of Benedict Arnold prevented the invasion of Canada, and Lafayette saw no active service for some time. He spent the autumn in camp on the Hudson and in New Jersey, and part of the winter in Philadelphia. A number of French officers had gathered here, and they, used to the gayeties of the most brilliant court in Europe, added much to the amusements of the American capital. Every one liked the French guests, and the foreign officers, on their part, liked and admired their new allies. Sometimes the self-denying seriousness of the Americans, which was an element of their national strength, amused and surprised the gayer Frenchmen. One of the latter, the Marquis de Chastellux, told a story about Philadelphia in his volume of “Travels.” He said that at balls in Philadelphia it was the custom to have a Continental officer as the master of ceremonies, and that at one party he attended that position was held by a Colonel Mitchell, who showed the same devotion to duty in the ballroom that he showed on the field of battle. This Colonel saw a young girl so busily talking that she could pay little attention to the figures of the quadrille, so he marched up to her and said to her severely, “Take care what you are doing; do you suppose you are there for your pleasure?”

Naturally the Marquis de Chastellux and his friends, fresh from the world of Marie Antoinette, where pleasure was always the first aim, had many a laugh at the people of this new world. But with the laugh there always went respect and admiration.

So Lafayette passed the time until the campaign of 1781 opened. He wrote often to his wife, and sent her a long letter by his friend Colonel Laurens, when the latter went on a mission to the court of France. Another child had been born to the Marquis and Adrienne, a son, who was given the name of George Washington. “Embrace our children,” wrote Lafayette, “thousands of times for me. Although a vagabond, their father is none the less tender, less constantly thoughtful of them, less happy to hear from them. My heart perceives, as in a delicious perspective, the moment when my dear children will be presented to me by you, and when we can kiss and caress them together. Do you think that Anastasie will recognize me?” And, as he could never write without thinking of the brave army he commanded, he added, “Only _citizens_ could support the nakedness, the hunger, the labors, and the absolute lack of pay which constitute the conditions of our soldiers, the most enduring and the most patient, I believe, of any in the world.”

In January, 1781, word came to Washington’s headquarters that General Benedict Arnold had landed in Virginia with a good-sized army, was laying waste the country, and had already destroyed the valuable stores collected at Richmond. If Arnold’s campaign should succeed the result would be to place all the Southern States in the hands of the enemy. Let him defeat the few American troops in Virginia and he could march to join the English General Cornwallis, who was pressing General Greene very hard in the Carolinas.

Indeed Cornwallis already appeared to hold the south in his grasp. He had beaten the small contingents of American troops in that country, and at the battle of Camden, in South Carolina, Lafayette’s old companion, the Baron de Kalb, had fallen in battle. It was of the utmost importance, therefore, to defeat or capture Arnold, who had been rewarded for his treason by being made a general in the British army, and Washington at once planned to send a detachment from his main army against Arnold by land, and a naval force to Chesapeake Bay to cut off his escape by sea. The French admiral ordered a ship-of-the-line and two frigates to the Chesapeake, and Washington placed twelve hundred light infantry under Lafayette with instructions to aid the fleet. This command, of the greatest importance, showed the confidence and trust that the commander-in-chief felt in the military ability of the Frenchman.

Lafayette marched rapidly south and reached the Head of the Elk on March second, three days earlier than had been expected. Here he embarked his troops on small boats and descended to Annapolis. Seeing no signs of the French squadron, he concluded that they had been delayed by adverse winds, and, leaving his army at Annapolis, he went with a few officers to consult with Baron Steuben and seek his aid. He secured some companies of militia at Williamsburg, near the York River, and proceeded to the camp of General Muhlenberg, near Suffolk, to have a look at Benedict Arnold’s defenses at Portsmouth.

Meantime a large fleet appeared in Chesapeake Bay. Lafayette, and Arnold also, thought that this must be the French squadron, but the American commander soon received word that the ships were English. It turned out that the first French squadron had found there was too little water in the bay for them, and had sailed back to Newport, while a second squadron had been driven off by the English. The result was that General Arnold’s forces were relieved from danger, and the enemy reinforced by two new regiments under General Phillips, who now took command of all the English armies in Virginia.

Washington’s orders to Lafayette had been that he was to try to capture Arnold, and that if the French fleet should be defeated he should march his men back to headquarters without further risk. So he now sent his militia to Williamsburg and forwarded orders to Annapolis to have the troops prepared for immediate departure. When he reached Annapolis he found there were great difficulties in the way of transporting his men to Elk. There were very few horses or wagons or small boats for crossing the ferries, and the port was blocked by English ships. He had resort to a clever stratagem. He put two eighteen-pounders on a small sloop, which, with another ship under Commodore Nicholson, sailed out toward the enemy vessels, firing their guns as if about to attack. The two English ships on guard withdrew a considerable distance down the bay, and then Lafayette embarked his troops on his own boats and got them out of the harbor and up the bay to Elk. They reached there safely during the night, followed by Lafayette and Nicholson in the sloop.

When Washington heard of General Phillips’ arrival in Virginia his anxiety was great. The situation in the south was extremely perilous. General Greene was having all he could do to oppose Lord Cornwallis in North Carolina. Unless strong opposition could be brought against Phillips the latter could quickly overrun Virginia and unite with Cornwallis. In this predicament the commander-in-chief determined to put the defense of Virginia in the hands of Lafayette.

Lafayette heard of this new appointment as soon as he reached Elk. The task was a great one. His men lacked proper equipment and even necessary clothing, and they were much disheartened by the unsuccessful campaign in the south. He borrowed ten thousand dollars from the merchants of Baltimore on his personal security and bought his army food and supplies. Then he told his men that his business was to fight an enemy greatly superior in numbers, through difficulties of every sort, and that any soldier who was unwilling to accompany him might avoid the penalties of desertion by applying for a pass to the North. His men, placed on their mettle, stood by him cheerfully. Immediately Lafayette marched on Richmond, reaching that place a day ahead of General Phillips. And General Phillips was so much impressed by Lafayette’s show of strength that he gave up his intention of seizing Richmond and retreated down the James River.

Cornwallis heard of this, and, vowing that he would defeat “that boy Lafayette,” as he called the Marquis, stopped his campaign against Greene in North Carolina and determined that he would himself take command in Virginia. Cornwallis, a major-general and an officer of great experience, expected an easy task when he sent word to Phillips to await his arrival at the town of Petersburg.

When he heard that Cornwallis was moving north and that Phillips was on the march Lafayette guessed that they intended to join forces, and hurried toward Petersburg to prevent it. Phillips, however, was nearer to that town and reached it before Lafayette, who was obliged to fall back on Richmond, but who sent out Colonel Gimat, with artillery, to keep the enemy busy.

On May thirteenth General Phillips died at Petersburg. It was before this general’s guns that Lafayette’s father had fallen at the battle of Hastenbeck. Benedict Arnold was second in command, and on taking Phillips’ place he sent a letter to Lafayette under a flag of truce. When the latter learned the name of the writer he at once informed the men who brought Arnold’s communication that while he would be glad to treat with any other English officer he could not read a message from this one. This placed General Arnold in a difficult position and was resented by a threat to send all American prisoners to the West Indies. But when the people heard of it they were delighted, and Washington wrote to the Marquis, “Your conduct upon every occasion meets my approbation, but in none more than in your refusing to hold a correspondence with Arnold.”

On May 24, 1781, Cornwallis, having joined his army to that of Arnold at Petersburg and having rested his men, marched out with his whole force to attack Lafayette at Richmond. At Byrd’s Plantation, where the British commander had his quarters, he wrote of his opponent, “The boy cannot escape me.”

Lafayette, on his part, knew that his enemy had a fine fighting force, and that he must be wary to avoid him. The Marquis said, “Lord Cornwallis marches with amazing celerity. But I have done everything I could, without arms or men, at least to impede him by local embarrassments.”

And he did embarrass the Earl. He led him a dance through the country about Richmond, he retreated across the Chickahominy River to Fredericksburg, time and again he just escaped the swiftly pursuing British. He knew he could not venture on fighting without the aid of more troops, and he kept up his retreat until he was joined by General Wayne with Pennsylvania soldiers on June tenth. Then he planned to take the offensive, and rapidly crossed the Rapidan River in the direction of Cornwallis.

Cornwallis would have liked a direct battle with the Americans, but again Lafayette proved wary. While the British army blocked the road to Albemarle, Lafayette discovered an old unused road and under cover of night marched his men along it and took up a strong position before the town. There militia joined him from the neighboring mountains, and he was able to show so strong a front that the British commander did not dare to attack him. In his turn Cornwallis retreated, first to Richmond and then to Williamsburg, near the coast, and left the greater part of Virginia in the control of the Americans.

Lafayette now became the pursuer instead of the pursued, and harried Cornwallis on the rear and flanks. The famous cavalry officer, Colonel Tarleton, serving under Cornwallis, described the pursuit: “The Marquis de Lafayette, who had previously practised defensive manœuvres with skill and security, being now reinforced by General Wayne and about eight hundred Continentals and some detachments of militia, followed the British as they proceeded down the James River. This design, being judiciously arranged and executed with extreme caution, allowed opportunity for the junction of Baron Steuben, confined the small detachments of the King’s troops, and both saved the property and animated the drooping spirits of the Virginians.”

Lafayette was proving that Washington’s confidence in him was well placed and showing himself an extraordinarily able commander in the field.

At Williamsburg Cornwallis received word from General Clinton in New York that a part of the British troops in Virginia were to be sent north. In order to embark these troops he set out for Portsmouth on July fourth. Knowing that the enemy would be obliged to cross the James River at James Island, Lafayette decided to attack their rear as soon as a considerable number should have passed the ford. Cornwallis foresaw this, and sending his baggage-wagons across arranged his men to surprise the Americans.

Toward sunset on July sixth Lafayette crossed the causeways that led to the British position and opened an attack. General Wayne, whose popular nickname was “Mad Anthony,” led the advance with a thousand riflemen, dragoons, and two pieces of artillery. Lafayette, with twelve hundred infantry, was ready to support him. But at Wayne’s first advance he found that the whole British army was before him; he attacked with the greatest vigor; Lafayette, however, realizing that Cornwallis had prepared a surprise, ordered a retreat to General Muhlenberg’s station a half mile in the rear. Had Cornwallis pursued he must have defeated the American forces, which had to cross long log bridges over marshy land, but in his turn he feared an ambush, and was content to bring his men safely across the James and proceed to Portsmouth.

The British were now at Portsmouth and the rest of Virginia in the Americans’ hands. Lafayette wrote a description of the situation to Washington, and added, “Should a French fleet now come into Hampton Roads, the British army would, I think, be ours.” Hardly had his letter reached Washington when a French ship arrived at Newport with word that the fleet of the French Count de Grasse had left the West Indies bound for Chesapeake Bay. Instantly Washington saw that he ought not now to direct his attack against Clinton in New York, but against Cornwallis in Virginia.

Cornwallis, wanting to take up a strong position with easy access to the sea, began to move his army to Yorktown on August first. At the same time Lafayette arranged his forces so as to cut off any retreat of the enemy. And while this was going on, and the fleet of the Count de Grasse was nearing the coast, Washington and Rochambeau met in the old Livingston manor-house at Dobb’s Ferry on the Hudson on August fourteenth and planned their joint campaign against Yorktown.

Then the two armies marched south. The Continental troops, many ragged and poorly armed, but with green sprigs in their caps, passed through Philadelphia on September second, and the French, more sprucely and gaily uniformed, followed them the next day. On September twelfth Washington reached Mount Vernon, which he had not seen for six years, and there entertained Rochambeau and other French officers. Two days later he took command of the allied forces at Williamsburg, and on the seventeenth visited De Grasse on his flag-ship, and completed plans for the siege. The army held the mainland, the French fleet blocked the path to the sea, and Cornwallis was trapped at Yorktown.