CHAPTER XII

THE SURRENDER OF YORKTOWN

At the siege of Yorktown much of the gallantry and glory of war was to be seen; but there was another side as well. The dwelling houses in ruin, the sufferings of the wounded men, the surgical operations, the amputations, the groans and sighs and homesickness, the dying gasps, the bodies of slain horses lying in the way--these also are war.

In Yorktown itself many houses were in flames. A sortie had been attempted and had failed. British reenforcements had not come.

Supplies were giving out. The outlook seemed hopeless. The men fought without spirit. An attempt was made to escape by sea. It also failed.

A violent storm drove the boats back to sh.o.r.e. The idea of surrender was entertained.

Consequently, on the 17th of October, General Cornwallis sent a note to General Washington asking for a cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours, to settle terms for the surrender of Yorktown.

Washington allowed two hours instead of twenty-four. Why waste any more time?

Interviews were immediately held, and a treaty of capitulation was framed.

When it was known that the British had yielded, a wave of the wildest joy spread through the American and French camps--and through the whole country as well. Messengers rode at top speed to Philadelphia to carry the good news. Congress was sitting there at the time. The rider came in at midnight. At one o'clock the watchers called "All's well,"

as usual, but added,

"_Cornwallis is taken!_"

Windows were opened and heads thrust out. The streets soon filled with rejoicing people. What Lafayette called "a good noisy feu de joie"

followed.

The third article in the doc.u.ment of capitulation stated that the British troops should be required to march out to the place appointed in front of the posts, at two o'clock precisely, with shouldered arms, colors cased, and drums beating a British or a German march. They were then to ground their arms and return to their encampments. The same afternoon the works at Gloucester on the opposite side of the river were to be given up, the infantry to file out as prescribed for the garrison at York, and the cavalry to go forth with their swords drawn and their trumpets sounding.

Over all this there had been a sharp discussion. The British wished to receive the "honors of war," that is, to go out with colors flying and drums beating; and the courteous Washington was inclined to grant this request. But Lafayette remembered the requirements the British had made at the defeat at Charleston. They had compelled the men to march out with colors cased, and had forbidden them to play a British or a Hessian air; and he thought that in fair retaliation the British army should now give up their arms in the manner required by them on that occasion. He suggested, however, one original variation,--that they should be not forbidden but _required_ to march to a British or a German air. Colonel Laurens was in accord with this. He had served at Charleston under General Lincoln, and he was only too glad to remind the British commissioners that it had been so arranged and required of the American troops after that defeat.

"The article remains or I cease to be a commissioner," the young man said firmly. The high-spirited Laurens could but remember that at that very moment his own father was still imprisoned in the Tower of London.

The condition remained; and at noon on the 19th of October the capitulation was signed. At one o'clock possession was taken of the enemies' works, and at two the garrison marched out.

A field about a mile and a half south of Yorktown was chosen for the ceremony. The scene was brilliant and spectacular. All the American soldiers were drawn up in a line on one side of the road and the French stood opposite with General Rochambeau, their commander in chief, leading their line. General Washington, mounted on his horse and attended by his aids, was at the head. Washington was ardently admired by all the French officers and they must have envied him his magnificent appearance in this fortunate hour. That fearless and austere commander, who had shared the sufferings and privations of his men in the dark night of Valley Forge, now rejoiced with them in the hour of accomplishment.

The French made a splendid appearance with their uniforms of bright colors and contrasting tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. Nearly all had the conventional three-cornered Revolutionary cap of blue; and the trousers were prevailingly of a lemon or canary yellow. Glittering orders were flashing on many uniforms, their banners were embroidered with golden lilies; each n.o.ble had his servants arrayed in silver-laced livery, and the French bands of many fifes, horns, and cymbals, played such music as was never heard before.

The American soldiers, who had inherited no traditions of either the glory or the disasters of warfare, could not compare with the foreigners in their full-dress display. But in every heart among them there was a feeling that richly compensated for the lack of feathers and facings. Whether shopkeeper or farmer or mighty hunter from the interior who stood in that line, the tide of united nationality ran higher in his heart than ever before. And every last man among them was one degree happier by having the dashing young French Major General, their beloved "Marquis," on the American side of the procession instead of in the foreign line. The "Boy" that Cornwallis was so certain he could catch was splendid that day in the perfection of military form. He sat, as always, very perfectly on his horse and he had the grace to be proud of the company in which he stood. As to his own regiment of Light Infantry, he had always been fond of decorating them with finery. They appeared now in dark leather leggins and white trousers; their blue coats had white facings and white cuffs; and a blue feather stood up in front of the cap and waved over the crown. This was the regulation uniform for them, but perhaps, having just gone through the severities of their Virginia campaign, they were not able to "live up" to their fine clothes. However, nothing mattered on that great day.

A vast concourse of American spectators was present to witness the surrender, but their desire to see Lord Cornwallis was not gratified. He pleaded indisposition and appointed General O'Hara in his place. As this general approached the group of commanding officers, the bands added their music. By the stipulation, they had been commanded to play an English or a Hessian march, but they were too proud to select one of their dignified national airs. Instead, they gave the tune of an English folk song of h.o.a.ry age, known from time immemorial as "Derry Down," but now called "The World Turned Upside Down," a t.i.tle the British bandmaster no doubt considered appropriate to the circ.u.mstances.

But the dignity of the occasion required that they should now observe the proprieties, for there was a wonderful pageant to be viewed, and all felt the great import of the hour.

The conquered army advanced between the two long lines of French and American soldiers. General O'Hara led the procession, riding slowly and proudly. As he approached General Washington, he removed his hat and apologized for the absence of General Cornwallis. General Washington received the apology and indicated that he had appointed General Lincoln, as the conquered commander of Charleston, to do the honors of the day and to receive the arms of the conquered. The moment was historic.

In one of the halls at Yale University stands a celebrated picture, painted by Trumbull, which gives a vivid impression of the brilliancy and importance of the occasion. In this picture General Washington, in an att.i.tude of great dignity, is placed in the center of the scene.

Near him stands General Lincoln who is being richly rewarded for his bitter defeat at Charleston. His hand is held out to receive the sword which the representative of General Cornwallis is pa.s.sing to him.

At the left of the picture are seen the French officers. Rochambeau is at the back and a little separated from the rest, and the others in the line are the counts, marquises, and barons who were officers in the French army.

General Lafayette, the American, was on the American side, not far from his beloved General Washington. The one nearest to the commander in chief is General (or Governor) Thomas Nelson, the one who had suggested that his own house roof be aimed at in the beginning of the siege; the next is Lafayette; then Baron Steuben; the others are representative commanders from various states.

The ceremony that followed this climax was most impressive. General Lincoln received the sword of Cornwallis, and at once handed it back to General O'Hara. The several regiments came forward to deliver their colors. Twenty-eight British captains, each bearing a flag folded in a case, were drawn up in a line opposite the twenty-eight American sergeants who were stationed to receive the flags. Ensign Wilson, then but eighteen years old, the youngest commissioned officer in the American army, was chosen to conduct this ceremony and to hand the colors on to the American sergeants. Lafayette looked down from his place in the line of mounted American officers and felt that his most ardent hopes were now fulfilled, and that his motto, "Cur non," had brought him only the best of fortune.

The day after the ceremony of surrender was the Sabbath, and General Washington ordered that divine service should be held in all the regiments and that Thanksgiving should be the theme. The next day he gave a dinner to which the general officers of the three armies were invited. Lafayette could not restrain his admiration for Cornwallis for his gallant and appropriate conduct upon all these rather embarra.s.sing occasions.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photograph from Wm. H. Rau, Philadelphia._ THE SURRENDER OF CORNWALLIS.

From the painting by Colonel John Trumbull, the soldier-artist of the Revolution.]

If, however, he had possessed the gift of prophecy, he might have looked forward but one short century to the centennial of Yorktown, when the flags of the United States and of Great Britain would be run up together on the site of this historic surrender. Then he would have seen British and American officers stand together with bared heads and in brotherly friendliness, while salutes were fired and cheers rent the air.

Looking still further, he would have seen the day when the people of France would unite with their one-time foe in various endeavors both peaceful and warlike. A strange planet is this, for the shifting of national loyalties and the rending and intertwining of bonds of union!

If history could make the human race amenable to receiving any instruction whatever, we should learn that war never yet decided any problem that could not have been better settled in some other way.

CHAPTER XIII

LIONIZED BY TWO WORLDS

Three days after the surrender, the 22d of October, Lafayette was on board the _Ville de Paris_ in Chesapeake Bay. It was believed that the surrender of Cornwallis would be practically conclusive as to the matter at issue between England and the United States. Lafayette therefore felt a sweep of thoughts toward home. Congress gave him leave of absence. The _Alliance_ was again placed at his disposal and awaited him in Boston harbor.

An adoring France received him on his arrival. He had been the hero of the New World; he now became the hero of the Old. The king of France gave him audience; when he arrived the queen sent her carriage to bring Adrienne, who at the moment happened to be at some royal fete, as swiftly as possible to the Noailles mansion. b.a.l.l.s were given in his honor. He was presented with laurel at the opera. The king made him a field marshal, his commission to date from the day of Cornwallis's surrender, and he was invited by Richelieu to a dinner where all the field marshals of France were present, and where the health of Washington was drunk with words so full of reverent admiration that they did Lafayette's heart good.

About this time a traveled American gentleman, Ledyard by name, was staying in Paris and commented on the popularity of the returned American hero. He said:

"I took a walk to Paris this morning and saw the Marquis de Lafayette.

He is a good man, this same Marquis. I esteem him. I even love him, and so we all do, except a few, who worship him.... If I find in my travels a mountain as much elevated above other mountains as he is above ordinary men, I will name it Lafayette."

The meeting of Lafayette with Adrienne cannot be described. He had now proved the value of his love of freedom, and she was filled with pride in the acknowledgment he received on all sides. The family reunion was perfect. He wrote to Washington, "My daughter and your George have grown so much that I find I am much older than I thought." He had reached the advanced age of twenty-four!

Lafayette was at once concerned with the concluding negotiations for peace between England and the United States. To hasten these and to carry on further military plans, France united with Spain in a projected expedition against the English possessions in the West Indies. For this purpose Lafayette, in December, 1782, went to Cadiz as chief of staff, where an armament of sixty ships and twenty-four thousand men were a.s.sembling. But while waiting for the final orders to sail, a swift courier brought the news to Cadiz that the treaty of peace had, on the 20th of January, 1783, been finally signed at Paris.

Lafayette wished to be the one to carry this news to America, but he was told that his presence at the negotiations at Madrid was necessary to their success, and therefore he had to forego the pleasure of being the personal messenger of the good news. Instead, he was allowed to borrow from the fleet a ship which he sent, as swiftly as possible, to the land of his heart. The ship lent him was _Le Triomphe_, well named for this message, and this was the first ship to bring the news of the Peace to our sh.o.r.es.

His work in Spain being successfully accomplished, he returned to Paris by swift posts, which means that he went in a carriage, with relays of good horses; and by driving day and night, over the mountains and through the valleys, following ancient Roman roads and crossing through many historic sites and cities, he covered the wide distance between the capital of Spain and that of France.

The war being over, Washington, as every one knows, retired to his estate at Mount Vernon, an act incomprehensible to some, but fully understood by his "adopted son," Lafayette, who wrote:

"Your return to a private station is called the finishing stroke of an unparalleled character. Never did a man exist who stands so honorably in the opinion of mankind, and your name if possible will become greater to posterity. Everything that is great and everything that is good were never hitherto united in one man; never did that man live whom the soldier, statesman, patriot, and philosopher could equally admire; and never was a revolution brought about which, in all its motives, its conduct, its consequences, could so well immortalize its glorious chief. I am proud of you, my dear General; your glory makes me feel as if it were my own; and while the world is gaping upon you, I am pleased to think and to tell that the qualities of your heart do render you still more valuable than anything you have done."

From Mount Vernon, where the wearied and peace-loving warrior was very glad to be, Washington, in February, 1784, wrote to Lafayette:

"At length, my dear Marquis, I am become a private citizen on the banks of the Potomac, and under the shadow of my own vine and fig-tree, free from the bustle of the camp, and the busy scenes of public life, I am pleasing myself with those tranquil enjoyments of which the soldier who is ever in pursuit of fame; the statesman whose watchful days and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of other countries, as if this globe was insufficient for us all; the courtier who is always watching the countenance of his prince in hopes of catching a gracious smile, can have but little conception."

He then goes on to give a brief history of recent events--the evacuation of New York, the American troops entering that city in good order, and New York finally freed from the British flag. He regretfully declined the pressing invitation of Lafayette to come to Paris, and again invited him and Madame de Lafayette to pay a visit at Mount Vernon. The correspondents appear to have thought of each other frequently, though separated by the wide seas. Later, Lafayette had joyous news to impart, for he wrote to Washington:

"I want to tell you that Madame de Lafayette and my three children are well, and that all of us in the family join to present their dutiful affectionate compliments to Mrs. Washington and yourself. Tell her that I hope soon to thank her for a dish of tea at Mount Vernon. Yes, my dear General, before the month of June is over, you will see a vessel coming up the Potomac and out of that vessel will your friend jump, with a panting heart and all the feelings of perfect happiness."

During Lafayette's visit to America in 1784 the people had an opportunity to show their grat.i.tude to one who had freely given his services to them in their day of need. In New York he was received with the greatest enthusiasm by the whole people, including his affectionate companions in arms. From here on he listened to the ringing of bells and the resounding of huzzas by day and saw lavish illuminations in his honor by night. A visit of ten days at Mount Vernon gave great pleasure to Washington as well as to Lafayette. In Boston his coming was celebrated at the stump of the Liberty Tree that the British had cut down during their occupation of the city. Many speeches were made during this journey, and Lafayette showed himself tactful in adapting his words to the occasion. His tact was prompted by a sincere liking for all people, a benevolent feeling toward the whole world. This was the foundation of much that was attractive and useful in his character.