WHEN Lafayette joined the army at Washington's headquarters, a few miles north of Philadelphia, he was very much surprised by what he saw. Instead of the ample proportions and regular system of European encampments, with the glitter and finish of their appointments; instead of feather-trimmed hats and violet-colored facings, with marching and countermarching in the precision and grace of a minuet, he saw a small army of eleven thousand men, poorly clad, with nothing that could by the utmost courtesy be called a uniform, and woefully lacking in knowledge of military tactics.

But Lafayette had on his rose-colored spectacles. The pitiful condition of the American soldiers awakened nothing but sympathy in his heart—never any contempt. In spite of their disadvantages, he perceived that they had in them the making of fine soldiers, and that they were being led by zealous officers.

Lafayette, now a major general in the American army, attended the councils of war and stood by Washington when he reviewed the troops. When the General took occasion to speak rather apologetically of the deficiencies in his little army, suggesting that Lafayette must feel the difference between these untrained soldiers and those he was accustomed to see, Lafayette had the self-possession and tact to answer that he had come to America to learn, not to teach. This answer charmed Washington and endeared the young French officer to the whole army.

Washington, having heard that an English fleet was coming up Chesapeake Bay, moved south to meet the portentous army that he knew would promptly be debarked. On their way south the American troops had to pass through the city of Philadelphia. In view of the dark forebodings that the approach of the English was causing in the minds of the people, Washington was desirous that the soldiers should make as fine an appearance as possible in passing through the city, and made special regulations for that day. The army was to march in one column through the city; the order of divisions was stated; each officer without exception was to keep his post with a certain space between, no more and no less; each brigadier was to appoint patrols to arrest stragglers from the camp and all others of the army who did not obey this order; the drums and fifes of each brigade were to be collected in the center of it, and a tune for the quickstep was to be played; but it must be played with such moderation that the men could keep step to it with ease.

An army that needed admonitions like these could still awaken enthusiasm from spectators. The austere commander in chief looked very handsome as he passed; the slim, eager-eyed French major general rode at his side; every window shone with curious and admiring eyes and the sidewalks were crowded with applauding citizens. The men could not help catching the spirit of the occasion; each soldier stuck a sprig of green in his hat to make up as far as possible for the lack of fine uniforms and military brilliancy.

They were on their way to the place which was to be the scene of the battle of Brandywine, one of the most disastrous defeats of the Revolution. At the head of Chesapeake Bay the English had landed a large and finely equipped army, and from that point they threatened Philadelphia. Washington, with an inferior and poorly furnished force, placed his army in form to receive the attack at the Birmingham meetinghouse near Chad's Ford on Brandywine Creek, a point about fifty miles south of Philadelphia.

Lafayette accompanied General Washington to the battle. His rank of major general gave him no command. Practically, he was a volunteer. But when he saw that the American troops were in danger of defeat before the superior English force, he asked to be allowed to go to the front. He plunged into the midst of the panic that followed the failure of the American line to stand up before the galling fire of the well-trained British soldiers. The retreat was rapidly becoming a panic. At this point Lafayette sprang from his horse and rushed in among the soldiers; by starting forward in the very face of the enemy and calling the disorganized men to follow, he did all in his power to induce the men to form and make a stand. It was impossible. The odds were too great against the Americans. Lafayette and the other generals waited until the British were within twenty yards of them before they retired.

But at the height of the confusion, when Lafayette was too excited to notice it, a musket ball struck his left leg just below the knee. Of this he was unconscious until one of the generals called his attention to the fact that blood was running over the top of his boot. Lafayette was helped to remount his horse by his faithful aid, Major de Gimat, and insisted on remaining with the troops until the loss of blood made him too weak to go further. Then he stopped long enough to have a bandage placed on his leg.

Night was coming on. The American troops were going pellmell up the road toward Chester. There was horrible confusion, and darkness was coming on. At a bridge just south of Chester, the American soldiers were at the point of complete disorganization. Seeing the great need for some decisive mind to bring order out of this chaos, Lafayette made a stand and placed guards along the road. Finally Washington came up and made Lafayette give himself into the hands of the surgeons. At midnight Washington wrote to Congress, and in his letter he praised the bravery of the young French soldier. Lafayette had passed his twentieth birthday but four days before.

General Washington was happy to have this French officer proved by test of battle and to find his favorable judgment more than warranted. He showed the most tender solicitude for his young friend and gave him into the care of the surgeons with instructions to do all in their power for him, and to treat him as if he were his own son.

Lafayette's spirits were not in the least dashed. When the doctors gathered round to stanch the blood, expressing their apprehensions for his safety, he looked at the wound and pluckily exclaimed,

"Never mind, gentlemen; I would not take fifteen hundred guineas for that."

It was partly this buoyant, merry spirit that made Lafayette win all hearts. To the army he was now no stranger. His broken English was becoming more and more understandable. But words were not necessary; the look in his eyes said that he was a fearless and sincere man; that he had not come to this country to "show off," but from a true love for the principles for which he had offered his sword. Never was there a more complete adoption than that of Lafayette by the American army.

Lafayette's first care on reaching Philadelphia was to write to Adrienne lest she should receive exaggerated news concerning his wound.

"It was a mere trifle," he wrote. "All I fear is that you should not have received my letter. As General Howe is giving in the meantime rather pompous details of his American exploits to the king his master, if he should write word that I am wounded, he may also write word that I am killed, which would not cost him anything; but I hope that my friends, and you especially, will not give faith to reports of those persons who last year dared to publish that General Washington and all the general officers of his army, being in a boat together, had been upset and every individual drowned."

Years afterwards when Lafayette, then an elderly man, revisited our country, he referred to his wound in these gracious words: "The honor to have mingled my blood with that of many other American soldiers on the heights of the Brandywine has been to me a source of pride and delight."

After a few days it was thought wise to take the wounded Lafayette to a quieter place. So Henry Laurens, the President of Congress, who happened to be passing on his way to York, Pennsylvania, whither Congress had removed, took him in his traveling carriage to Bethlehem, where dwelt a community of Moravians, in whose gentle care Lafayette was left for the four wearisome weeks of convalescence.

"Be perfectly at ease about me," he wrote Adrienne. "All the faculty in America are engaged in my service. I have a friend who has spoken to them in such a manner that I am certain of being well attended to; that friend is General Washington. This excellent man, whose talents and virtues I admired, and whom I have learned to revere as I have come to know him better, has now become my intimate friend; his affectionate interest in me instantly won my heart. I am established in his house and we live together like two attached brothers with mutual confidence and cordiality."

Again Lafayette writes: "Our General is a man formed in truth for this revolution, which could not have been accomplished without him. I see him more intimately than any other man, and I see that he is worthy of the adoration of his country.... His name will be revered in every age by all true lovers of liberty and humanity."

At last Lafayette was well enough to go into service again. He requested permission this time to join General Greene who was making an expedition into New Jersey in the hope of crippling the force of Lord Cornwallis. Lafayette was given command of a detachment of three hundred men, and with these he reconnoitered a situation Lord Cornwallis was holding at Gloucester opposite Philadelphia. Here he came so near to the English that he could plainly see them carrying provisions across the river to aid in the projected taking of the city, and he so heedlessly exposed himself to danger that he might easily have been shot or imprisoned if the English had been alert. By urgent entreaty he was called back. After gaining this information, he met a detachment of Hessians in the service of the British army, and though they numbered more than his own detachment, he succeeded in driving them back. In the management of this enterprise he showed great skill, both in the vigor of his attack and in the caution of his return. He took twenty prisoners. General Greene, in reporting to Washington, said that Lafayette seemed determined to be found in the way of danger.

General Washington was now convinced that the titled volunteer could be trusted with a command. He wrote to Congress as follows:

On this recommendation, Lafayette was appointed to the command of a division composed entirely of Virginians. Needless to say he was overjoyed; for though the division was weak in point of numbers, and in a state of destitution as to clothing, he was promised cloth for uniforms and he hoped to have recruits of whom he could make soldiers.

When Lafayette enlisted in the American army, he was not to lack for companionship. John Laurens had come from his study of history and military tactics at Geneva and, leaving his young wife and child behind, even as Lafayette had done, had rushed home to serve his country in her need. Alexander Hamilton was now both military aid and trusted adviser and secretary to General Washington. These three young men, all boys at the same time in different quarters of the globe, had come together while still in early youth and were entering into the great work of the American Revolution.