When Lafayette sailed westward this time he owned two valued possessions, partly French, partly American, which had not been his when he landed at Brest. One was a sword, the gift Congress directed Franklin to have made by the best workmen in Paris and presented to him in recognition of his services. It was a wonderful sword, with his motto "Cur non?" and no end of compliments worked into the decorations of its gold-mounted hilt and scabbard. The other possession was a brand-new baby. "Our next one absolutely must be a boy!" Lafayette had written Adrienne when assuring her of his joy over the birth of Anastasie; and obligingly the next one came a boy, born on Christmas Eve, 1779. He had been immediately christened, as was the custom, but he was given a name that no man of the house of Motier had borne in all the seven hundred years of the family's consequential existence. Even the young mother's tongue may have tripped a bit as she whispered "George Washington" to the baby cuddled against her breast. But no other name was possible for that child, and the day came, before he was grown, when it served as a talisman to carry him out of danger.

Sailing westward on the Hermione, the father of this Franco-American baby reached Boston late in April after an uneventful voyage, to receive the heartiest welcome the staid old town could give him. The docks were black with people and the streets lined with hurrahing crowds as he rode to the governor's house where he was to be a guest.

Until the Hermione came to anchor he did not know where Washington was to be found, but he had a letter ready written to despatch at once, begging him, if he chanced to be north of Philadelphia, to await his arrival, since he brought news of importance. It took a week for this message to reach Washington's headquarters at Morristown, and three days later Lafayette was there himself, greeting and being greeted by his chief with a heartiness which showed their genuine delight at being together again. Having been absent for more than a year, he had much to learn about the progress of the war; and what he learned was not reassuring. He knew in a general way how things had gone, but the details showed how weak the American forces really were.

Most of the fighting had been in the South. Savannah had been taken before Lafayette sailed for France. The British had followed up this success by sending a large force to Georgia; Southern Tories had been roused, and civil war had spread throughout the entire region. At present the British were advancing upon Charleston. In the North the two armies still played their waiting game, the British actually in New York, and Washington in a position from which he could guard the Hudson, help Philadelphia in case of need, and occasionally do something to harass the enemy. Frequently the harassing was done by the other side, however. During the summer of 1779 the British had ravaged the Connecticut Valley. Washington refused to be tempted away from the Hudson, and the brightest spot in the annals of that year had been the capture of Stony Point while the British were thus engaged. Lafayette's acquaintance, "Mad Anthony" Wayne, had taken it in a most brilliant assault.

But that was only one episode and the history of the year could be summed up in eight words—discouragement, an empty treasury, unpaid troops, dwindling numbers. Washington's own army was reduced to about six thousand men, with half of these scarcely fit for duty. They were only partly clothed, and had been only partly fed for a long time. Their commander said of them, sadly, but with pride, that during their terms of service they had subsisted upon "every kind of horse-food except hay." Lafayette expected to find the army weak, but this was a state of exhaustion of which he had not dreamed. It was very hard to have to report such things to Paris; in truth, for some time after his return he avoided reporting details as much as possible.

His coming, with the news that ships and men and money were on the way, must have seemed little less than a happy miracle. But would the help come in time? To make it effective the country must renew its enthusiasm and meet assistance half-way. Washington frankly told a committee of Congress that unless this could be done the coming of the French would be a disaster instead of a benefit. In other words, the country was so weak that the next effort was almost sure to be the last one. If it failed, it would be too exhausted to rally again.

Lafayette left headquarters and went to Philadelphia to exert whatever personal influence he possessed upon Congress; but under the law Congress could raise neither men nor money. All it could do was to recommend such action to the thirteen different states. Their thirteen different legislatures had to deliberate and act, all of which took time when time was most urgent.

In France the proposed military expedition had roused much enthusiasm. Young men flocked to enlist, as eager to fight for liberty in America as our boys of 1918 were eager to reach France on a similar errand. Every available spot on the transports was crowded. The commanding general regretfully left behind his two favorite war-horses because he knew that twenty men could go in the space they would occupy. Even after the ships had left the harbor recruits came to him on the cutter that brought the last despatches, begging to be taken aboard, but had to be sent back because there was literally not room for another man.

Yet the numbers that came to America were, after all, disappointingly small: far less than originally planned. That was because the English managed to blockade all except the first division in the harbor of Brest. This first division sailed on the 2d of May with Admiral Ternay in command of the ships, and the gallant, cool-headed Rochambeau, who was already fighting at the time Lafayette was born, in command of the soldiers. He had five thousand effective men crowded into the transports that left Brest with their convoy on a sunny day, the many white sails filling to a breeze described as "joli frais." But in spite of this auspicious beginning it was a tedious crossing, longer in point of time than the first voyage of Columbus. The weary soldiers soon came to call their transports "sabots" (wooden shoes), and indeed some of them were scarcely larger. As our coast was neared they crawled along at three knots an hour, with drums beating every fifteen minutes to keep the ships in touch and prevent their drifting away from each other in the heavy, persistent fog.

Washington had hoped that before the arrival of the French he could gather sufficient force to justify him in attacking New York with their help, for he was convinced that one success here would end the war. His army was indeed "augmented more than one-half," as Lafayette wrote his wife, but before the ships made their slow way across the Atlantic the British had captured Charleston, and Clinton, who assisted Cornwallis in that undertaking, had returned to New York with a force that raised his strength there to twelve thousand regulars, in addition to Admiral Arbuthnot's fleet and several thousand militia and refugees. Not all the earnestness of Washington, the efforts of Congress, nor the enthusiasm of Lafayette had been able to raise men enough to attack under these circumstances; and the signals displayed on Point Judith and "the island of Block House" to guide the French directed them to go to Newport as a convenient place from which the attack might yet be made if events favored the allies.

Lafayette went to Newport to meet Rochambeau and plan co-operation. By the time he reached there the situation was still worse, for an English fleet which left home about the time Rochambeau sailed from France had appeared, giving the British superior force alike on sea and land.

Admiral Ternay, who was not aggressive by nature, saw a repetition of D'Estaing's failure looming ahead of him, and sent word to France that the American cause was doomed. Rochambeau, being a better soldier, did what he could; landed his men, freeing them from the confinement of the "sabots;" and, upon a rumor that the British were advancing to attack, helped several thousand militia prepare for defense. The rumor had a foundation of truth. An expedition actually left New York, but was no sooner started than Washington began threatening the city, whereupon Clinton recalled his men, for there was no doubt that New York was the more important place.

Having no knowledge of the country, and being thus hurried at the moment of landing, from the rÔle of aggressor which he had expected to play to one of defense, the situation seemed very serious to the French general. Even after the recall of Clinton's expedition he felt it most unwise to lose touch with his ships, and he had small patience with Lafayette, who seemed inclined to talk about "advances." Rochambeau was sure that his duty lay in waiting for the second division of the French force, keeping strict discipline, meanwhile, in a model camp, and paying liberally for supplies. This he did so well that not an apple disappeared from the orchards in which the French tents were pitched, not a cornstalk was bent in the fields near by, and, as Lafayette assured Washington, the pigs and chickens of patriots wandered at will through the French camp "without being deranged." The French and Americans fraternized enthusiastically. "You would have been amused the other day," Lafayette reported to his chief, "had you seen two hundred and fifty of our recruits, who came to Connecticut without provisions and without tents, mixing so well with the French troops that each Frenchman, officer or soldier, took an American with him and amicably gave him a share of his bed and supper."

The French soldiers were anxious to get out of Newport and at the throats of the enemy, but Rochambeau was firm in his determination. He desired a personal interview with Washington and felt a little hurt, perhaps, that a youngster like Lafayette, who might easily have been his own son, was made the means of communication. There was some doubt whether Washington could enter into agreements with a representative of a foreign power until explicit authority had been given him by Congress. It was one of those absurd technical questions of no real importance that may cause a deal of trouble, and it was better not to have it raised. Lafayette continued, therefore, to be occupied in Newport with parleys and conferences and incidentally with meeting old friends. His brother-in-law, De Noailles, was one of the officers who had come out with the expedition.

Cross-purposes were bound to arise, and there were moments when Lafayette's optimism got decidedly upon the nerves of Rochambeau. The two came to the verge of quarrel, but both were too sensible to allow themselves to be pushed over the edge. The breach was soon healed by a letter of Rochambeau's in which he referred to himself as an old father and his "dear Marquis" as an affectionate son. In Lafayette's private account of this episode to his wife he wrote that "a slight excess of frankness got me into a little controversy with those generals. Seeing that I was not persuading them and that the public interest demanded we be good friends, I admitted at random that I had been mistaken and was to blame, and asked pardon in proper terms, which had such a magical effect that we are now better friends than ever." Lafayette's friends called him determined; his critics said that he was vain. Historians aver that he was never convinced by argument.

August brought the unwelcome news that there was to be no second division of the French army that year. This was the more disappointing because in addition to all else it meant the continued lack of arms and ammunition and of clothing for fifteen thousand American soldiers that Lafayette had caused to be manufactured in France, but which had been left behind to come with this second division. He confided to his cousin that the army was reduced to "a frugality, a poverty, and a nudity which will, I hope, be remembered in the next world, and counted, to our credit in purgatory." To his wife he wrote that the ladies of Philadelphia had started a subscription to aid the soldiers, and that he had put down her name for one hundred guineas; that he was very well; that the life of an American soldier was infinitely frugal; that "the fare of the general officers of the rebel army is very different from that of the French at Newport."

The intelligence that no more French troops could be expected called manifestly for new plans of campaign, and a conference between the respective chiefs was finally arranged, which took place at Hartford with considerable ceremony on the 20th of September. Washington had with him General Knox and General Lafayette. The French general and admiral were accompanied by as many subordinate officers as could find plausible excuse to go along, for all were curious to meet the famous General Washington.

At this conference the whole situation was discussed in detail, but no way of winning the war without outside help was discovered. Rochambeau sent his son, who had come to America with him, back to France with a formal account of the proceedings; while Washington and Lafayette also sent letters to France by the son of that Mr. Laurens who had offered Lafayette the hospitality of his traveling-carriage after the battle of the Brandywine.

One chance of help still remained, even if the Ministry should consider it impossible to despatch aid directly from France. The Comte de Guichen, who commanded a fleet then in the West Indies, might be persuaded to sail to the relief of the Americans if the letters could be made sufficiently persuasive. Washington wrote directly to him as well as to France, sending this letter through the French minister to the United States, in order that everything might be diplomatically correct and aboveboard.