Victory at Yorktown (20 page)

Two other figures in the bizarre cast confronted by Washington were the Chevalier de Chastellux and the Chevalier de La Luzerne. Chastellux, third in command of the French army in America, was not only a prominent soldier but a famous philosopher and author, who was now traveling the United States collecting material for a book on the country. A dark-haired man with a long, rather solemn face and small green-brown eyes, Chastellux was immediately taken with George Washington, whom he characterized as “the greatest and the best of men.” In his book he provided a superb picture of the American general—one that was to influence contemporaries and generations to follow. The General's strongest characteristic, he said, was “the perfect harmony which reigns between the physical and moral qualities.…” He was “Brave without temerity, laborious without ambition, generous without prodigality, noble without pride, virtuous without severity.…” He was, in short, a very paragon of a man whom history, Chastellux predicted, would honor not because of any particular virtue but because, “at the end of a long civil war, he had nothing with which he could reproach himself.”

One of Washington's skills that most impressed Chastellux (as it did many another contemporary) was his superb horsemanship. Washington's horses, which he broke and trained himself, were universally admired, as was the way he always rode at a gallop, even when he had no special reason to hurry. “He is a very excellent and bold horseman,” the Frenchman wrote, “leaping the highest fences and going extremely quick without standing upon his stirrups, bearing on the bridle, or letting his horse run wild.”

(Chastellux was nothing if not candid in his observations of the American army. Speaking of medical treatment, he remarked, “the distinction between surgeon and physician is as little known in the army of Washington as in that of Agamemnon.”)

La Luzerne, a friendly, worldly-wise, thirty-six-year-old, spoke almost no English when he appeared on the scene to become minister to the United States, but this did not deter him from becoming a man of enormous influence. Unlike La Luzerne, most of the French were no more comfortable dealing with their opposite numbers than the Americans were. Even Lafayette, who had come to know these new allies better than most others, observed, “I cannot deny that the Americans are somewhat difficult to handle, especially for a Frenchman.”

*   *   *

WASHINGTON, LIKE ROCHAMBEAU,
was determined to persuade de Grasse to sail to American waters—and soon—and he dispatched a trusted officer named Allen McLane, a daring cavalryman who had served brilliantly in numerous battles, to see de Grasse and provide him with full details on the military situation in the states. The American commander was beginning to have misgivings about the attack on New York and wanted to keep open the possibility of action in the Chesapeake, so in early June, McLane, appearing as a marine captain on the privateer
Congress
, sailed for the islands hoping to meet with de Grasse. On the way they spoke a French frigate, learned the location of de Grasse's fleet, and McLane was soon aboard the French admiral's flagship.

At that moment, de Grasse and his officers were considering an attack on the island of Jamaica but interrupted the discussions to hear McLane's news from America. As McLane described his historic mission in his journal with tantalizing brevity, “Visited Cap François [now Cap Haitien] in July, was examined by Count de Grasse in Council of War aboard the
Ville de Paris
, gave as [my] considered opinion that Count de Grasse could make it easy for Genl Washington to reduce the British Army in the South if he proceeded with his fleet and Army to the Chesapeake.” Whether it was McLane's persuasiveness or the written recommendations de Grasse received from Rochambeau and Washington at this time, the die was cast. De Grasse would sail for America.

*   *   *

ON JUNE 10
the first brigade of French troops stepped off on what proved to be a 756-mile march to the South, in a departure from Newport that could only be described as an emotional spectacle. It was a sad occasion for the French, most of whom agreed with Jean-Baptiste-Antoine de Verger, who said, “there are few places or indeed none in the world, where the [fair sex] is so beautiful and so amiable,” and for the townspeople, who had thoroughly enjoyed the presence and impeccable behavior of these troops and were sorry to see them go. As the brilliantly uniformed troops dressed ranks, crowds lining the streets waved their hats and cheered and threw kisses as they began to march to the docks, where they embarked for Providence.

Apparently, a legion of officers regretted acutely that they would not see again a young Quaker woman named Polly Lawton (pronounced “Layton”). Her favorite pastime was teasing the visitors about their profession, which she called immoral, but that did not deter one French count from pronouncing her “a nymph rather than a woman,” whose eyes reflected “the meekness and purity of her mind and the goodness of her heart … if I had not been married and happy I should, whilst coming to defend the liberty of the Americans, have lost my own at the feet of Polly Leiton.” The Prince de Broglie wrote, “Suddenly the door opened and in came the very goddess of grace and beauty. It was Minerva herself, and her name was Polly Lawton,” whose costume had the effect of giving her the air of the Holy Virgin.

Unlike his love-struck officers, Rochambeau, after all the frustrations of prolonged inactivity, could hardly wait to leave Newport, knowing he had the honor of leading the cream of the French infantry—the Soissonnais and the Bourbonnais regiments, with which he had fought in the Seven Years' War—along with the Saintonge and Deux-Ponts, two equally distinguished units.

Providence, where the army stayed for eight days, was a rather pretty town, according to one of the officers, well built and thickly settled, but it seemed deserted, with little commercial activity. None of the streets were paved and the town was surrounded by woodlands, but the air was pure and healthy.

Leaving Providence on June 18, the army was ordered to march in four divisions, which were led by Rochambeau, Baron de Vioménil, Comte de Vioménil, and Comte de Custine, whose second in command was Louis-Alexandre Berthier (later marshal of France and Napoleon's chief of staff). The going was difficult, especially for the artillery, and because of the roads, which were described successively as very poor, very bad, frightful, and execrable, it took almost two weeks to reach East Hartford. Upon arrival in Hartford, the army set up camp and stayed for two days to rest and make repairs to the artillery.

It is not clear how he knew this, since he had seen only Rhode Island and Massachusetts, but Clermont-Crèvecoeur pronounced Connecticut “unquestionably the most fertile province in America, for its soil yields everything necessary to life.” The pasturage was good, the cattle of excellent quality, and the poultry and game exquisite. The woods abounded in walnut trees (“the nuts are quite good, but you lose patience trying to eat them”), whose wood was used to make wheels and shafts of incredible lightness—unlike the carriages of France, which were so heavy they ruined the roads. Clermont-Crèvecoeur was so captivated by the lush orchards and apple trees that he got to thinking how unfortunate it was that the Americans did not make their own wine and substitute it for the cider they produced in such great quantity. Since the country had such a healthy and salubrious climate, he concluded that “the Americans' laziness doubtless prevents them from making the effort.”

Such thoughts led him to ponder the people the French troops had seen. Among them were elders of both sexes who enjoyed perfect health at a very advanced age and were gay and amiable, “not at all burdened with the infirmities that are our lot in our declining years.” The people, though hardworking, “do not labor to excess as our peasants do. The sweat of their brow is not expended on satisfying the extravagant desires of the rich and luxury-loving; they limit themselves to enjoying what is truly necessary.”

Only one dark spot marred his idyllic picture of Connecticut: “You often encounter Tories here. This country is unfortunately swarming with them, and the harm they have done to the inhabitants is incredible.”

Moving on, the French army camped in Farmington, where crowds turned out to hear their regimental bands play and watch their generals and colonels dance with the local girls.

Several days later, after an otherwise uneventful trip, the troops stopped at Newtown, New York, a desolate place with ruined fields and houses, and much poverty, which the French were convinced was the capital of Tory country. The loyalists usually strike by night, they heard, when they travel in packs, attack an isolated post, then retire to the woods where they bury their arms. Although the French were on guard against these marauders, none appeared; the troops probably suffered greater psychological damage when their campsite in a stony field proved to be “infested with snakes and adders.”

They spent two days in Newtown and planned to stay longer, but a message arrived from General Washington, saying he was on the march and hoped Rochambeau would join him soon. To facilitate matters, one of Washington's aides, Colonel David Cobb, met them here and remained with them, since he knew the country well and could help plan their marches. He brought with him Sheldon's dragoons, “who are incontestably the best troops on the continent,” according to Clermont-Crèvecoeur.

Washington wanted Rochambeau's first brigade to be in Bedford by the evening of July 2; from there, the armies would proceed immediately to King's Bridge, fifteen miles from New York. On the march through western Connecticut the French noted the devastation of the villages, and in North Castle “Everything has been either destroyed or burned by the British.” Several attempts were made to find and attack Oliver DeLancey's loyalist corps in this vicinity, but they failed. (Success depended on surprise, and the enemy could hardly be unaware of the allies' movements.) By July 6, when they marched from North Castle to Philipsburg at White Plains, the troops had been on the road since 3
A.M
. with nothing to eat; they found nothing to drink; and the heat was unbearable. They had to make frequent halts, and more than four hundred soldiers dropped by the roadside because of fatigue. That same evening a French officer, bedded down in a meadow, saw that the top of the grass was covered with sparks and, looking closer, discovered that these were generated by “a fly that imitates our glowworms.” He had just seen his first fireflies.

On July 7, the moment arrived when the French and Americans actually camped cheek by jowl, separated only by a small stream near Dobbs Ferry. The next day La Luzerne, the French minister, arrived in camp, and Rochambeau put on a review for him and Washington and his officers. Washington had seen the French troops in Newport, Baron Closen said, so the spectacle “could not have made as much of an impression on him as on the other American officers, who were especially taken with Lauzun's legion and its lancers.”

Twenty-four hours later the American contingent—some four thousand strong—had its chance, and the French headquarters staff was invited to see it pass in review. Astonishingly, “the whole effect was rather good,” Closen wrote, but when Clermont-Crèvecoeur had his first opportunity to view the American camp, he was struck at first, not by the army's smart appearance, “but by its destitution: the men were without uniforms and covered with rags; most of them were barefoot. They were of all sizes, down to children who could not have been over fourteen. There were many negroes, mulattoes, etc. Only their artillerymen were wearing uniforms.” He realized that these men and boys were “the elite of the country and are actually very good troops, well schooled in their profession. We had nothing but praise for them later,” he added, especially for the officers, who had good practical experience. A few of the American regiments had white uniforms: coat, jacket, vest, and trousers of white cotton, buttoned from the bottom to the calves, like gaiters. Several battalions wore little black caps with white plumes, and Washington's mounted guard wore hard leather helmets with horsehair crests. Sheldon's legion had large caps with bearskin fastenings. Three-quarters of the Rhode Island regiment, he said, “consists of negroes, and that regiment is the most neatly dressed, the best under arms, and the most precise in its maneuvers.”

On that same day Rochambeau wrote to Barras, informing him that the French troops had arrived safely and asking him to apprehend “ten love-stricken Soissonnais who returned to see their mistresses in Newport.” Then, writing to the minister of war in Versailles, he reported that his army had marched 220 miles in eleven days, finding or supplying their own rations, and whatever expense they had incurred “has been essential to our American allies.” Before concluding, he pleaded, “For heaven's sake, Sir, do not forget our money and real funds for the month of October; our neighbors lack everything, and the subsidy which they can draw on in letters of exchange will soon discredit this currency.”

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THE CLOSER THE
French and American armies came to New York City, the more frequent the skirmishes—some with British or Hessians, others with loyalists of Oliver DeLancey's corps—and the more devastation they saw. As Louis-Alexandre Berthier wrote:

This whole country gives evidence of the horrors of war. The inhabitants here are in communication with the English and are pillaged by American raiding parties. All the Whigs have abandoned their houses. Among them are some very handsome ones, deserted, half destroyed, or burned, with untended orchards and gardens filled with fruits and vegetables, and driveways overgrown with grass 2 feet high. Only along the borders of the Sound is there less devastation, since there the inhabitants have changed sides whenever it has proved expedient.

For a month and more, while playing cat and mouse with Clinton's defense forces, Washington and Rochambeau made a careful study of the area—sometimes spending twenty-four hours at a time in the saddle. On one occasion, after mounting at five in the morning, they crossed to an island between the mainland and Long Island, and, while the engineers were taking some measurements, the generals lay down in the sun and fell asleep. The Frenchman awoke first, called Washington at once to say the tide was coming in, and they returned quickly to the little causeway on which they had crossed to the island, only to find it under water. Someone found a few boats, into which they threw their saddles and bridles, and two American soldiers went ahead, leading by the bridles two horses that were good swimmers, and some ninety other horses followed. This entire operation took about an hour, and fortunately the enemy never knew the predicament in which the supreme commanders of the American and French armies found themselves.