Chapter Text
Part III
“Lafayette rode into Morristown on the tenth [of May]. Washington went out to meet him and, Hamilton remembered, his ‘eyes were filled with tears of joy, a certain proof of a truly paternal love.’ The young man threw his arms around his adoptive father and kissed him on both cheeks.” (Adopted Son, p.261)
Five days after his glorious arrival at Boston Harbor, Lafayette found himself on the road again. This time, his destination was a small city called Morristown near New York. There, the main army had spent the winter months and Washington had established his headquarters close to the encampment. Lafayette was to rejoin the army and resume the command over his division – a task he looked very much forward to. He had missed having a field command during his absence. The longing to be back in uniform and to lead his men into battle had grown stronger with every day he had spent at the French court, so far from any military action. He missed his men, and, no doubt, they missed their general. Lafayette was extremely popular among the ranks, owing to his natural enthusiasm and charm, and to the selfless devotion he had shown by purchasing clothing and food for his men from his own purse when almost every other division had suffered from starvation and the merciless cold. He had involved his officers in the development of strategies, showing them that their opinion was valuable and respected. This gesture of trust had paid off for the young general. No unit had lower numbers of deserters than his, and his men were devoted to him with absolute loyalty.
Lafayette could barely await to be reunited with these honest, brave men he had grown so fond of. Even more, however, he anticipated his reunion with Washington. He did not know if his note he had sent from Marblehead had already reached the commander-in-chief and thus there was no way for him to learn if Washington knew that he was on his way. Lafayette hoped the letter had arrived, for he did not want to keep his friend waiting just one day longer. He had already imagined countless times how delighted the General was going to be by his return and how much more happiness and relief the news of the promised French support were to bring.
The journey to Morristown would take Lafayette approximately one week. Under better conditions, he would have been able to cover the over two-hundred miles in less than that. There were, however, several obstacles preventing him from reaching camp faster. The most pleasant one was that in every town he passed, he was received with parades, banquets, dinners and speeches in his honor. The people took immense pride in hosting festivities for the Marquis and there seemed to be no greater goal than to have Lafayette staying at one’s town for the night. Lafayette, flattered by the attention and the praise he was given, did nothing to diminish the Americans’ excitement. In contrary, he willingly participated in every single event taking place to celebrate his return. He talked to the people, shared their dinner tables and proclaimed his eternal gratefulness for the efforts that were made to honor him. He and the men accompanying him on his way to Morristown went to bed slightly tipsy every night and had their difficulties every morning to get the town’s people to let them continue their journey.
An obstacle way less enjoyable was that the roads were in extraordinarily bad condition. It rained almost every day, and it had done so apparently for the past few weeks, since the roads had transformed into a mass of mud and puddles. Oftentimes, the men were unable to even trot their horses, for that would have posed a too high risk to the health of their mounts and also to the men’s safety.
It was hazardous to travel this slow, Lafayette knew. They were only five men and against an enemy patrol they would not stand a chance. In addition, he was one of the highest-ranking officers in the Continental forces and a symbol for the American cause – his capture could conceivably mean the British victory in this war. The tensions among the men were accordingly high. Whereas Lafayette’s aide urged the group to travel as fast as possible and risk injuries in the horses in order to get the Marquis to safety, others argued that it was best to keep a steady and calm pace and to closely watch the surrounding woods at all times.
Lafayette himself would have preferred the first option since he did not want to waste another day on the road. He, however, knew that it was impossible for them to travel faster without endangering the entire company. Thus, he spent his days on horseback, in growing frustration and impatience.
On the eighth day on the road, in midst of a heavy rainfall, Lafayette was finally granted a bright ray of hope. The group had stopped to give their horses a short break when they heard a familiar sound, coming closer rapidly.
“Do you hear that?”, Lafayette’s aide asked, looking at the other men with an alarmed expression. Lafayette put down the bag he had been holding in his hand and nodded. His hand slowly moved toward the pistol he carried on his hip-
“That sounds like cavalry”, he said, his voice sounding calm although his heart was pounding in his chest. Five men with exhausted horses and wet gunpowder – if that was an enemy unit, they would not live to see the next ten minutes. He nodded at his men, a gesture for them to ready their weapons. At least they would not go down without a fight, then. They readied their arms, aiming in the distance at nothing particular since the rain was too heavy for them to see whoever was approaching them from this distance. Lafayette squinted his eyes in an attempt to make out at least some silhouettes. The rain water was dripping from his tricorn and ran down his face, causing him to wipe the wetness away with an angry gesture. The British must have known of their position and now they were using the weather to their advantage, he thought.
He heard his aide’s shallow, quick breath beside him. The man was nervous, Lafayette knew, and it would have been a lie to claim that he himself was not. When he was finally able to see a movement in the distance, he could not help but laugh in relief. His aide, who had apparently not yet seen as much as Lafayette had, looked at the Marquis in utter confusion.
“Sir, this is hardly the time-”, he started slowly, but Lafayette interrupted him with a radiating grin on his face.
“Do you not see their uniforms? They are blue! These are our men!”, he said, his voice growing loud with excitement. He signaled his men to lower their weapons. A collective sigh of relief could be heard from the other Frenchmen, when they as well made out the patches of blue through the rain. The unit was approaching fast and soon the men were able to see that it was indeed cavalry, at least fifty men. Lafayette’s heart was still pounding, but now for a wholly different reason. The fact that they had encountered these troops here, in a storm on a deserted road in the woods, could only mean one thing – Washington had received his note and had sent men to escort him into camp. This alone would have been enough for Lafayette to erupt in relieved and joyful laughter. When he, however, recognized the man riding in front, he was unable to withhold his emotions.
“Hamilton!”, he exclaimed his friend’s name and approached the aide in a few quick strides before Hamilton had even been able to stop his horse. He had to suppress the urge to hug his friend while he was still on top of his mount. Instead, he looked up to Hamilton, grinning broadly, his breath quickened due to the overwhelming excitement pervading him.
“Mon ami”, Hamilton returned the greeting, with an equally broad grin on his features. He dismounted quickly and, not even bothering to hold on to his horses’ reins, pulled the much taller Frenchman into a bone-shattering embrace. Lafayette returned it with equal force, his hand gripping Hamilton’s cloak and pulling him closer. Oh, how he had missed his friend! The jokes, the late-night conversations, the playful arguments. There could not have been a better surprise for Lafayette this day than encountering a unit under Hamilton’s command.
“We received your note yesterday”, Hamilton said once the two friends had separated, “You should have seen the men. It was quite a party, I can assure you.”
Lafayette laughed at his friend’s words. His heart leaped at the thought of the men being delighted by his return and he had seen enough celebrations in camp to be able to imagine what Hamilton was referring to.
“Washington ordered this escort to move out the moment he opened the letter. The old fox is probably running in circles ever since we left camp”, the aide added with a cocky grin. Lafayette chuckled. The image of Washington getting all excited of the prospect of seeing him soon warmed his heart. At the same time, however, it made his heart grow heavy again. He had kept his dear friend waiting for far too long.
“Washington, how is he?”, he asked, the urgency strongly audible in his voice. Hamilton gestured toward his horse. It was just now that Lafayette noticed that the aide and also the other men seemed tense, on edge, as if they were expecting an attack any second. The dragoons were watching the tree line very closely, some of them even with their hands on their pistols and sabers.
“Let us get moving. We can talk on the way”, Hamilton said, and mounted his horse. “It is not far to camp from here. We merely took so long because we had to avoid an enemy patrol. If we keep up a good pace, we will be able to reach Morristown in the later afternoon. It is still quite early, fortunately.”
Lafayette nodded and got back onto his horse as well. “You made enemy contact, then?”, he asked when they had urged their mounts into a fast walk. Hamilton hummed in confirmation.
“Unfortunately we did. There is British cavalry everywhere. Luckily they did not see us since they were still two miles or so away from us when our vanguard spotted them.” He leaned closer to Lafayette. “They are on a hunt for you, my friend.”
An involuntary shiver ran down Lafayette's spine. He had been right in his assumption that he had become the most precious prey in enemy territory. What they would do to him, were he captured, he did not want to imagine. Maybe they would ship him to England, a symbol of the inevitable defeat of both France and the unruly colonies. Maybe they would have him hanged or shot to break the Continentals' spirit. The worst possibility Lafayette was able to think of was that the British would use him as an instrument to blackmail Washington. It was well know to the enemy how close the commander-in-chief and his Marquis were. Should the British threaten to kill Lafayette – he did not want to imagine what sacrifices Washington would make to save his life.
“He is going to be delighted to see you.”, Hamilton ended Lafayette's dark contemplations. He did not have to ask who the aide was referring to. Lafayette gladly accepted the distraction from the constant threat of an attack.
“I shall hope so”, he said with a chuckle and Hamilton smiled at him.
“You should have seen him when he received your note. I do not recall seeing him grinning this broadly ever before. He almost started tearing up over the news.”
“So he really did miss me", Lafayette said quietly, more to himself than directed at someone else. Hamilton responded nevertheless.
“Oh, that is a great understatement. He was practically grieving after you left. For two weeks he would yell at everyone who did the slightest thing to irritate him and he would not attend a single dinner. When he finally ate with us again, he forbid that anyone sat on your usual place. And-", Hamilton smiled to himself at the thought, “he has a little portrait of you on his desk, it goes with him whenever he moves headquarters. I always felt your eyes on me when I entered his office.”
Although the mental image was quite amusing, Lafayette felt a lump build up in his throat at Hamilton’s words. The guilt about taking what felt like an eternity to return to America and letting Washington wait for thus long grew even stronger now that he had the confirmation that his friend had been affected by his absence as much as he had anticipated. On the other hand, Lafayette’s heart filled with affection and he could not help finding Washington’s behavior quite touching and endearing. “Then I do better not to make him wait even longer”, he said and urged his horse into a light trot.
They rode on without taking another break and luckily without making enemy contact again. The roads close to camp were slightly better than out in the woods and therefore, the dragoons and the Frenchmen reached Morristown in the late afternoon, just as Hamilton had said earlier. The rain had stopped, and although the sky was still grey and cloudy, the mood among the men grew more light-hearted with every yard. Lafayette could feel his heart pound in his chest when they approached the outer areas of the camp, rows of white tents, one after another, all the way up the slight hill on which the bigger tents and huts belonging to the officers were located. The soldiers in camp had already become aware of the cavalry approaching and began to assemble outside of their tents, curiously watching as the group came closer.
“The headquarters are on the other side of the camp”, Hamilton told Lafayette, “I will make sure they let you pass, there is time for a reception later.” Lafayette nodded in response. He was relieved that his friend had recognized the urgency with which he needed to get to Washington. Of course he looked forward to being received by his men, but his reunion with his adopted father was of the highest priority right now. As soon as the dragoons were close enough to camp for the soldiers to recognize who was accompanying them, the assembled men erupted in loud cheering. Lafayette grinned broadly, raising a hand in a greeting gesture. The dragoons made way for him to let him ride at the front of the unit. Hamilton, as promised, stayed close by Lafayette’s side, having an eye in the men, should they in their excitement hinder the Marquis from making his way to the headquarters.
“Welcome back, Sir!”, Lafayette heard a man say, some others bowed before him or even sank down onto their knees to signal their admiration and reverence. He nodded to them, expressing his gratitude, and he knew that the men were aware that it was genuine. Both whispers and calls followed him through the entire camp.
“It is him, it is really him.”
“Marquis!”
“Lafayette is back!”
Lafayette loved the attention the men were giving him and did nothing to hide that. He did not cease waving and smiling the entire way through the hundreds of tents. Slowly, they approached the red brick building serving as Washington’s headquarters and that of his staff. Owing to the masses of soldiers surrounding him, Lafayette was not able to see more than the house's roof yet. He could, however, feel his chest clench with anticipation and nervous tension. It was quite plausible that Washington was already waiting in front of the building since there was no way he had not heard the noise the troops were making. When even sitting up straighter in his saddle did not allow Lafayette to catch a glimpse of the headquarters, he felt himself grow impatient.
He urged his horse to walk faster and was glad that the men made way for him when they realized he was in a hurry. Finally, the masses of soldiers parted. Lafayette did not need more than a second to recognize the tall, broad figure in front of the house. He noticed how Washington immediately stepped forward as soon as he saw Lafayette, as if it were an instinctive reaction. He then stopped, however, and remained standing on the top of the stairs. His Excellency could not allow himself to overreact, Lafayette knew, he had to keep a certain amount of composure in front of the troops. For Lafayette himself, at least in this moment, etiquette and formality was not of even the smallest importance.
He urged his horse into a trot, leaving the dragoons and the other men behind him. His fingers were shaking and he had to be careful not to let the reins, still wet from the rain earlier, slip through his fingers. It was a odd state Lafayette found himself in, but not an unknown one. He was on the brink of tears, his eyes burning and his vision partly clouded, but still, his heart leaped with joy and the grin on his face almost started to grow painful. When he came close enough to see Washington's face, he noticed that his friend was pressing his lips together in a thin line. Lafayette was slightly irritated by that since it made Washington appear angry at the first glance. Then, however, he noticed that the General was blinking rapidly, with a deep crest appearing on his forehead. Lafayette knew this expression. Washington was attempting not to cry.
He dismounted before his horse had even come to a halt in front of the stairs. Someone would look after the animal, he was sure, but that thought was of minor importance now. Taking two steps at a time and nearly tripping in the process, he ascended the stairs. He saw that Washington was extending his arms hesitantly, seeming unsure about how to welcome his friend after an absence of that duration. Lafayette, however, did not need to contemplate about their greeting at all. Not even bothering to slow down, he threw himself into Washington's arms, pulling the General into a vigorous embrace. The force of their collision caused Washington to stumble backward to prevent himself from being knocked over – a quite amusing image since the General was seemingly twice as massive as the young Marquis. Lafayette felt Washington's arms close around him with equal force.
Despite the firmness of their embrace, Lafayette did not fail to notice the slight tremor running through Washington’s body. The General exhaled shakily when he lowered his head, his forehead now hovering over Lafayette’s shoulder. Lafayette knew his friend was contemplating about how intimate he could let their greeting become in public and this was already more than he had expected beforehand. He felt Washington's hand gripping his cloak, as if he was afraid Lafayette was going to vanish, were he to not hold on to him tightly enough. Despite the tears in his eyes, Lafayette could not cease to smile. Many months he had longed for this moment of their reunion and it felt even better than he had imagined it.
When they finally separated, Lafayette saw that Washington’s eyes were rimmed red and shimmering with tears. The General's lips were still pressed together tightly, but now there was a smile upon them, and that, Lafayette knew, was his friend's equivalent to his radiating grin. His heart both ached and rejoiced at this sight. Washington’s reaction was yet another proof of the unaltered nature of his affections for Lafayette, but also for the massive amount of pain his friend's absence had caused him.
“Marquis”, Washington finally said, raising his hands to take hold of Lafayette’s upper arms. The warm expression in his eyes spoke of deep fondness and joy, and this alone would have been enough for Lafayette to tear up, had his eyes not been stinging already.
“Mon général", he returned their familiar greeting and leaned forward to kiss Washington on both cheeks. He saw a slight blush appearing on the General's cheeks and Lafayette could not help finding this sight quite endearing. Even after all the French greetings, the American generals were often flustered when the French welcomed them in their traditional way, and that did not exclude Washington.
“Let us go inside”, Lafayette suggested, “I have come with news that will make this reunion even happier.”
He saw the questioning expression on Washington's face but chose to wait until they could speak in private. Washington should hear the news of France’s renewed support first and he would be the one to decide how the troops would learn of it. Lafayette turned toward the men. They were still clapping and cheering. He waved to them and smiled, before Washington placed a hand on his shoulder to lead him inside the building. They walked down the hallway in silence, both still too overwhelmed to make casual conversation.
Washington opened at a door to their right and signaled Lafayette to enter. It was a quite big room, the General's office, judging by the dark wooden desk near the window, on which papers and books were piling en masse. There was a fireplace to the left, with several chairs and a small table in front of it. The light falling in through the window was dim, owing to the late hour. Washington quickly lightened some candles to keep the darkness at bay, while Lafayette remained standing in the middle of the room, taking in the view.
“Please, take a seat”, Washington said and Lafayette did as told. The General sat down in the chair next to him and looked at him with an expression of tense expectancy. It still felt so unreal to Lafayette to find himself face to face with his friend again. He could not help but let his eyes roam over Washington's features over and over again, until he had assured himself that this was not a dream, but wonderful reality. He, however, could not let Washington wait any longer. He cleared his throat and sat up straight.
“I have the honor to tell you that les monsieurs Adams and Franklin, and also myself, have been quite successful in their efforts to win France’s heart for the American cause once again. We worked for more than a year, every hour we could. I lost count how many audiences we had and how many speeches we gave.”
Lafayette realized that he was stretching out his narrative for too long. Washington was already leaning forward, his fingers unconsciously tapping a rhythm on the chair’s arm lean.
“To make it short, we convinced King Louis to send six-thousand additional troops and a fleet of six ships, all under the command of the Comte de Rochambeau. He is a very able General and I insisted that he be placed under your order, thus making you the commander of both the American and the French troops.”
Lafayette was able to see how Washington's composure gradually deserted him with every word he spoke. The General’s mouth fell open, his eyes growing wide. He blinked rapidly, but even that could not hide the tears had had returned into his eyes. For once, His Excellency seemed at a loss for words. Lafayette smiled at him, warm affection filling his heart at this sight. Washington seemed absolutely shaken, since he did not even reciprocate the smile. Instead, he just stared at Lafayette for several more seconds, before he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs. Lafayette froze. This was not at all the reaction he had hoped for. He knew that Washington could be a very emotional man and he had expected that the news would be met with powerful sentiments. Lafayette, however, was not prepared for a reaction like that and thus found himself quite overstrained with the situation.
“Mon dieu, non”, he murmured. Unsure of what to do, he got up and stepped closer to Washington. Hesitantly, he sank down on one knee in front his friend's chair. He placed one hand on Washington's knee, very slowly and carefully, since he knew that the General did normally not like to be touched. Lafayette was one of the few whom Washington allowed to touch him without asking, and, at least in his first year in America, Lafayette had been the only one Washington, in turn, had been touching voluntarily. Still, Lafayette thought it better to be careful now, since he did not want to cause an even bigger eruption of Washington's temper. He did not receive a reaction whatsoever. Thus, he placed his other hand on Washington's forearm, gently applying pressure in an attempt to stop his friend from covering his face with his hands.
“Mon général, Sir", he addressed Washington, hoping that his voice would get him the General’s attention. When he did not succeed, he was only able to think of one more option.
“Father”, he said, his voice quiet, pleading. The word felt strange on his lip, after over a year of not using it. Still, it revoked a feeling of comfort, security, home. It simply felt right. The tremor in Washington's shoulders ceased in an instant. Lafayette tensed and considered a retreat, in fear of having angered his friend by being so forward. Before he could fully rise and step back, however, he felt Washington's hand on top of his own, which was still resting on the General’s knee; a firm grip holding him in place. He relaxed a bit and kneeled back down. In the meantime, Washington had raised his face from where he had been hiding it behind his hands. His eyes were rimmed red and Lafayette could still see traces of tears upon his friend's cheeks. The expression on his features made Lafayette's chest tighten with both fondness and grief. Washington looked at him as if he could not believe that he was truly here and not the image of a dream or wishful thinking. His eyes roamed over Lafayette’s face, over and over again. Lafayette smiled at him, through the tears that were threatening to roll down his cheeks once again. When Washington finally reciprocated it, Lafayette let out a breath of relief.
“Thank you”, Washington whispered, apparently not trusting his voice enough to talk louder. His eyes had found Lafayette’s and had ceased their restless wandering. Hesitantly, he raised his other hand to gently place it on Lafayette’s cheek – just as if he needed a final proof for the Marquis’ presence. Lafayette was startled at first by this intimate gesture, but then he allowed himself to slightly lean into the touch.
“Sixteen months are far to long”, he heard Washington say, in the same quiet tone as earlier. Lafayette knew that his friend was not a man to talk much. Others might have rambled on about how much they had missed him, how glad they were to have him back. He did not need to hear these words from Washington. The look in his eyes, his gentle touch and his tearful smile were more than enough.
They talked until the late evening hours. The sun set and the room went dark, with only a few candles providing some light, but neither of them did care to sleep just yet. After Washington had calmed down again, Lafayette had returned to his chair and they had resumed discussing the details of the renewed French support for the American cause. Washington had called in an aide and had told him to inform the troops of the good news. When they had finished their discussion on the alliance, their conversation had shifted to more personal matters, with Lafayette speaking of his time in France, of his wife, his new privileged position at the court. Washington, in turn, briefed Lafayette on everything that had happened during his absence, concerning both the army and their personal acquaintances. It was as if the long months of separation had never existed. They talked without a pause, at ease, not even noticing how fast time was passing. It was only when they heard a cannon being fired outside that they became aware of the absence of sunlight and the length of their conversation.
“There seems to be quite a party going on outside”, Lafayette remarked. Washington chuckled.
“The men are delighted to have their General back with them.” He rose from his chair and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”
Lafayette nodded and rose as well. He felt nervous all of the sudden, at the thought of stepping in front of the troops again – an odd feeling, considering they had already been cheering for him when he had arrived. The two of them walked down the hallway together in silence. When they reached the front door, Lafayette stopped, leaving Washington the privilege to step outside first, as appropriate for the commander-in-chief. Washington shook his head.
“It is you they are cheering for, son, not me ”, he said in a calm tone, smiling reassuringly at Lafayette. When Lafayette still hesitated, contemplating about whether or not no accept the offer, Washington made a decision for him. He pulled the door open and laid one hand into the small of Lafayette’s back, pushing gently. Lafayette was trembling with excitement and nervous tension when he finally gave in and stepped outside first.
The noise hit him like a giant wave. He stumbled back a step, overwhelmed for several seconds. It had to be the entire army present at Morristown that had assembled that late to celebrate his return and France's decision. Cannons were being fired, and it was only then that Lafayette was unable to hear the men’s shouts.
“Vive Lafayette! Vive la France!”
A shiver ran down his spine and he felt his eyes fill up with tears for what felt like the hundredth time this week. Finally, he achieved to collect himself enough to step forward again, raise one arm in a greeting gesture and allow a broad smile to return to his face. The cheering grew even louder. Fireworks lit up, brightening the sky with their colorful lights. It was almost painful to look at them in contrast to the dark night sky, but Lafayette could not have cared less. The overwhelming joy inside him would have been strong enough to numb even the most agonizing pain.
Lafayette felt a hand being placed on his shoulder. He did not need to turn around to know who it belonged to, but he did so anyway. Washington had stepped next to him, his glance roaming over the assembled troops with obvious pride. His features were illuminated by the fireworks when he turned his head toward Lafayette, a soft, affectionate expression in his eyes.
He spoke, but the noise of the fireworks was too loud for Lafayette to hear what his friend was saying. From the expression in his eyes and the movement of his lips, however, he could tell nevertheless.
Welcome home.