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  Lafayette had written several letters, strictly business, in recent weeks, always mentioning that he needed to see Washington on a personal matter. After that warm blessing, he made his concerns clear. “The news I have got from France, the reflexions I have made by myself, and these which have been suggested to me by many people,” he said, made him ask for his adoptive father’s advice on what to do. He went on nervously, “You may think my dear general, that I do’nt ask what I never ask’d in my life, a leave of quitting the post I am sent to, without strong reasons for it. But the letters I have receiv’d from home make me very anxious of seeing you.”52

  The young Frenchman had signed all his earlier letters to Washington “the Marquis de Lafayette.” This and all later ones he signed simply “Lafayette,” a token of intimate familiarity he showed to no one else, not even his wife. This small change of style carried major connotations in their relationship. It was the way a noble son signed letters to his noble father.

  Before he could leave for France, Lafayette had unfinished business in America. One matter involved the British peace commissioner, Lord Carlisle. The other was, as Washington knew, his cherished project to invade Canada, making up for his earlier failure.

  I FLATTER MYSELF THAT GENERAL WASHINGTON WILL NOT DISAPPROVE OF THIS PROPOSAL

  On August 26, 1778, Carlisle issued a “manifesto” regretting that Congress refused to hear his appeals. His commission had been sent to America to keep the rebels from ratifying the treaty with France. Having failed in that, the emissaries offered several warnings about France’s unreliability as an ally. It “has ever shown itself an enemy to all civil and religious liberty.” She intended to “prolong the war” and make “these colonies the instrument of her ambition.”53

  The marquis decided that a rebuke to France was an insult to him. He told d’Estaing that he would challenge Carlisle to a duel, adding, “I flatter myself that General Washington will not disapprove of this proposal.” He told Washington the same.54

  Washington and d’Estaing both were appalled. The general-admiral twice asked Washington to talk the boy out of it. The American needed no prompting. “The generous spirit of chivalry, exploded by the rest of the world,” he told Lafayette, “finds a refuge—my dear friend—in the sensibility of your nation only. But it is in vain to cherish it, unless you can find antagonists to support it.” Carlisle would hide behind his position and “turn a virtue of such ancient date, into ridicule.” Even if he accepted the challenge, the outcome of duels depended more on chance than bravery. He would not have Lafayette’s life, “by the remotest possibility, exposed, when it may be reserved for so many greater occasions.” He could have ordered the marquis to back off, but instead he appealed to his reason.55

  That mature advice arrived too late, because Lafayette had already sent a “billet doux” (love letter), as he described it, to Carlisle in New York. It offered a challenge in florid, roundabout language that contained only one direct statement: “I do not deign to deny it, milord, but I wish to chastize you.” The thirty-year-old, baby-faced lord rejected it. “I confess I find it difficult to return a serious answer,” he sneered. He declined because the manifesto was not a private one to Lafayette but a public expression of the king’s representatives. Washington had been correct.56

  The boy general had made himself look ridiculous, although he did not see it like that. Lord Carlisle had made him “a very tardy reply, in which he escapes by means of diplomatic prerogatives.” He told Washington that Carlisle “conceals himself behind his dignity.” The silly business was concluded.57

  The idea of a joint French-American invasion of Canada was an even greater obsession with Lafayette. It was also a greater fool’s errand. In his first greeting to d’Estaing in July, he said that as soon as the French flag was seen near Canada, half the habitants and Indians would “declare themselves for us.” He kept hammering at his cousin until d’Estaing issued a “Declaration in the king’s name to all former Frenchmen of North America.” It told the “inhabitants and savages” that they were born French, and had never ceased to be French.58

  The marquis revived the idea of invading Canada as a way to heal the breach between the allies opened by Sullivan. D’Estaing issued the declaration just to get the boy off his back. He knew that the French government had no interest in the project. Lafayette should have known also, because Minister Gérard told him to knock off his agitation. Vergennes had long since scotched any such notions. The American war had already cost his government plenty, while Britain’s resources required to maintain its hold on Canada drained its power in Europe. If the war came out favorably for the allies, the foreign minister believed, a continuing British presence in Canada would bind the United States closer to France. If his government wanted any territorial gains, it looked toward the West Indies.59

  Lafayette was undeterred. On September 3, 1778, he told Washington that he ought to move against Canada, “for as long as you fight I want to fight along with you, and I much desire to see your Excellency in Quebec next summer.” The commander in chief, as he had pointed out the flaws in the marquis’ many proposals for more than a year, explained the facts of this case. “Many circumstances, and events must conspire,” he said, “to render an enterprize of this kind practicable and advisable.” The enemy must withdraw from New York and Newport before he could detach an expedition. Moreover, a wintertime invasion of the north would present a monumental logistical challenge. “In a word,” conditions were “so much against the undertaking” that the marquis could take a furlough.60

  Lafayette pressed ahead anyway. Except for some diehards in Congress, nearly all American officials were opposed to a Canadian expedition. Washington explained that if they marched north, Americans no longer would be fighting for independence but would look like conquerors. He did not tell Lafayette that he also harbored suspicions about France’s ambitions. John Laurens did. As he wrote to his father, he hoped that “the marquis will be thanked for his good intentions, and his offers waived.”61

  Lafayette went to Philadelphia in October to arrange a leave of absence and to lobby for his Canada project. Washington, asked by Congress for his opinion, concluded that the marquis had put the whole thing into the lawmakers’ minds. So did Henry Laurens, who worried that the naive Frenchman was becoming mired in republican politics. Lafayette assured Washington that all he had done was to answer questions. “The idea was not suggested by me,” he claimed, “and I acted in the affair a passive part.” That was probably an honest answer, because there were members who loved the idea of conquering the north.62

  Lafayette was sick in bed for much of November, and Washington visited him often. He explained to him repeatedly the logistical objections against marching north. The marquis jotted them down and passed them on to Congress with his own answers. He did not know that his adoptive father had already told the lawmakers that he did not trust America’s ally. France was “the most powerful monarchy in Europe by land,” he said, able to “dispute the empire of the sea” with Great Britain, and if Spain joined her, the French would certainly be superior to the British. He did not want the United States to face a foreign rival holding “New Orleans on our right, Canada on our left, and seconded by the numerous tribes of Indians in our rear.” He concluded with what would become the guiding principle of his own foreign policy later. “[I]t is a maxim founded on the universal experience of mankind, that no nation is to be trusted farther than it is bound by its interests.”63

  Washington trusted Lafayette, but he trusted no foreign power, even America’s ally. The marquis was undeterred. He sent his chief spy in Canada some questions he wanted answered. He also forwarded a proclamation to be read to “my children the savages of Canada,” promising the Indians that American and French forces would liberate them yet.64

  Washington’s judgment prevailed in Congress, and early in January 1779 the new president, John Jay, told Lafayette that the members had voted against any expedition to Canada
. The United States must liberate itself, he advised, before it liberated others. The project would also disserve France by drawing it into a campaign whose outcome would be “very uncertain & might be very ruinous.” Lafayette did not receive that until May, when he was in France conspiring with Franklin to mount an invasion that both their governments opposed.65

  DO’NT FORGET AN ABSENT FRIEND

  Canada was just an interruption in Lafayette’s plans to return home. Washington advised that he ask Congress for a leave of absence, which would let him retain his commission and preserve his freedom to return to the American army—and to Washington’s side. The general explained to the lawmakers that he preferred Lafayette’s “being absent on this footing, if it depended on me.”66

  In October 1778 the marquis formally applied for leave. The sentiments that bound him to his country, he told the president, “can never be more properly spoken off [sic], than in presence of men who have done so much for theyr own. As long as I thought I could dispose of myself, I made it my pride and pleasure to fight under american colours in the defence of a cause, which I dare more particularly call ours, because I had the good luck of bleeding for her.” Now that France had joined the war, he was compelled by his “duty as well as by patriotic love” to present himself before the king. He asked Congress to grant him the liberty of going home for the winter as a soldier on furlough.67

  The lawmakers were won over by that, especially the mention of his wound, but legislatures never do anything by simple, direct means. The members debated how to thank the marquis, what presents to send back with him, instructions to him and to their agents in France, and a pile of other details. He considered Philadelphia “a tiresome prison,” Lafayette complained to d’Estaing, “and if I were staying here only for my business I would soon have escaped.” Republican government remained a mystery to him. “IF THEY WOULD BUSY THEMSELVES LESS WITH INTRIGUES AND MORE WITH BUSINESS, EVERYTHING WOULD BE FINISHED,” he roared.68

  Congress granted a “furlough for your return to France to be extended at your own pleasure,” authorized its agents in France to have a sword made and presented to him, and thanked him for his “zeal in promoting that just cause in which they are engaged and for the disinterested services you have rendered to the United States of America.” Best of all, Congress sent a letter to King Louis XVI: “Great, faithful and beloved friend and ally: The Marquis de la Fayette having obtained our leave to return to his mother country we could not suffer him to depart without testifying our deep sense of his zeal, courage and attachment. We have advanced him to the rank of a major general in our armies, which, as well by his prudent and spirited conduct he hath manifestly merited. We recommend this young nobleman to Your Majesty’s notice as one whom we know to be wise in council, gallant in the field, and patient under the hardships of war. His devotion to his sovereign hath led him in all things to demean himself as an American, acquiring thereby the confidence of these United States, Your Majesty’s good and faithful friends and allies, and the affection of their citizens.”69

  That just might be a ticket out of the royal doghouse for the fugitive from the king’s warrant. There was other help for him, including a favorable report from Minister Gérard and another from William Carmichael, former secretary to the delegation in Paris. Lafayette hired him to be his chief of intelligence while he was gone and gave him a bottomless bank account to go with the job. In return, Carmichael advised Franklin to personally present all the resolutions of Congress at court. “I am sure all the consequence he can derive from the influence of his family or from his own merit,” he suggested, “will be exerted for our interests because he thinks them blended with those of his nation, & I know that personally he ardently desires to cultivate your friendship & your esteem.”70

  Washington, Henry Laurens, and others also sent letters of introduction. The commander in chief’s long message to Franklin ended on a personal note. “Coming with so many titles to claim your esteem,” he said, “it were needless for any other purpose than to indulge my own feelings to add that I have a very particular friendship for him.” Even the scruffy pamphleteer Thomas Paine put his oar in. The marquis, he told Franklin, returned “with the warmest thanks from this country.” His “amiable and benevolent manners” were “a living contradiction to the narrow spirited declarations of the British commissioners. He happily returns in safety, which, considering the exposures he has gone thro’, is rather to be wondered at.”71

  Lafayette took off for Boston to catch a ship Congress provided for him. He rode horseback through constant rain and was treated in every town to receptions at which he drank too much. At Fishkill, New York, eight miles from Washington’s camp, he collapsed into bed on November 2, 1778. Washington sent his personal physician to attend to him and visited as often as he could. Despite the best efforts of eighteenth-century medicine—bleeding—he recovered in about three weeks. Meanwhile he acquired a pile of letters from well-wishers. Morgan was frightened at his condition and thought that he would be gone for good. All the generals in the army liked the marquis, he said. He was “very far from leaving the american service,” Lafayette reassured him, and had “merely a furlough from Congress.” He was confident that he would return to America in the spring.72

  Lafayette was aboard ship by late December, but his departure was repeatedly delayed by Congress’ dilatory forwarding of various instructions and messages. His adoptive father sent a heartfelt farewell. “I am persuaded, my dear marquis,” he told him on December 28, “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.” He concluded, “The interest I take in your happiness cannot but make me desire you may be equally dear to your own. Adieu, my dear marquis, my best wishes will ever attend you.”73

  The general thought that the next time he heard from Lafayette would be after he reached France. Yet his ship did not sail. On January 5, 1779, the marquis wrote, “To hear from you, my most respected friend, will be one of the greatest happiness I may feel. The longer letters you’ll write the more bless’d with satisfaction I schall think myself. I hope you will not refuse me that pleasure as often as you can.” Once again, his hand and his English shook. “I hope you will ever preserve that affection which I do return by the most tenderest sentiments. How happy, my dear general, I would be to come next spring, principally as it might yet be propos’d I need not say.”

  Lafayette continued, “Your first letters will let me know what I am to depend upon on that head, and I flatter myself the first from me will confirm you that I am at liberty and that most certainly I intend to come next campaign.” He regretted leaving his adoptive father, even if it was to be temporary. “Farewell, my most beloved general, it is not without emotion I tell you this last adieu before so long a seperation. Do’nt forget an absent friend and believe me for ever and ever with the highest respect and tenderest affection der. general your most obed. serv. and affectionate friend Lafayette.” Five days later he added a postscript, saying that he hoped to sail the next day. “I hope I am right and I hope to hear soon from you. Adieu; my dear and for ever belov’d friend, adieu.”74

  Washington could not help being touched by such devotion. There was one more, written on January 11. “The sails are just going to be hoisted, my dear general, and I have but the time of taking my last leave from you…. Farewell, my dear general, I hope your french friend will ever be dear to you, I hope I schall 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’ll for ever be, my dear general, your respectfull and sincere friend Lafayette.”75

  After the long goodbye, Lafayette could not get the man he loved and admired so much off his mind. “Even those enemies who accused that great man of insensitivity,” he wrote when he was back in France, “acknowledged his tenderness for M. de Lafayette. And how could his disciple have failed to cherish him who unites all that
is good with all that is great and whose nobility springs even more from his virtues than from his talents? If he had been a simple soldier, he would have been the bravest one; if he had been an obscure citizen, all his neighbors would have respected him. With a just heart and a just mind, he judged all matters impartially. In creating him expressly for that revolution, nature did great honor to herself.”76

  NINE

  I Love Him as My Own Son

  (JANUARY 1779–MARCH 1780)

  If one trusts solely to brave generals who love fighting, this will cause trouble. If one relies solely on those who are cautious, their frightened hearts will find it difficult to control the situation.

  —SUN SHENG