Lafayette (33 page)

As a storm of shells reduced Yorktown to rubble, Cornwallis made a vain counterattack the following day, but the Americans and French forced him to retreat to the York River, where a driving rain made escape by water impossible. On October 17, 1781, Cornwallis sent a message to Washington under a flag of truce: “Sir,—I propose a cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours, and that two officers may be appointed by each side . . . to settle terms for the surrender of the posts of York and Gloucester.”
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Washington agreed; Cornwallis proposed that his troops surrender as prisoners of war, “with the customary honours” of marching out of their garrisons, to the beat of their drummers, colours aloft. Lafayette objected, citing the refusal of Cornwallis to grant General Lincoln the same courtesy at the surrender of Charleston. Washington named Colonel John Laurens, and Rochambeau appointed Lafayette’s brother-in-law, the vicomte de Noailles, to carry Washington’s terms of capitulation to Cornwallis: “The same honours will be granted to the surrendering army as were granted to the garrison of Charleston. . . . The garrison of York will march out to a place to be
appointed in front of the posts, at two o’clock precisely, with shouldered arms, colours cased, and drums beating. . . . They are then to ground their arms and return to their encampments.”
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On October 19, Cornwallis, Washington, Rochambeau, and de Grasse, among others, signed the articles of capitulation, but, feigning illness, Cornwallis refused to lead his troops to surrender, sending instead his adjutant, General Charles O’Hara, to suffer the humiliation of surrendering his sword. O’Hara sought to hand it to Rochambeau, but the French general rejected it, saying that American general Washington was sole commander-in-chief. With Lafayette at his side, Washington ordered O’Hara to surrender his sword to General Lincoln, who graciously returned it to him.

The American and French troops formed two lines, facing each other, and as the silent British troops marched between them to surrender, the Redcoats turned their faces toward the French line, by way of insult to the ragtag American rebels. Lafayette immediately ordered his drum major to strike up “Yankee Doodle,” and, according to “Lighthorse Harry” Lee, “the band’s blare made them turn their eyes” to their American conquerors. By the end of the day, Lee recounted, almost 8,000 British soldiers had laid down their arms and “became prisoners of Congress.”
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The officers were allowed to keep their sidearms; the rest of the men kept all their personal effects except items acquired by plunder. The British seamen who surrendered were turned over to de Grasse as prisoners of war.

The following day, Lafayette wrote to French prime minister Maurepas: “The play is over, Monsieur le Comte, the fifth act has just come to an end.”
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I have but a few minutes to give you some news, my sweetheart. The end of the campaign was a brilliant one for the allied troops; I would have to be difficult to please indeed, were I not completely satisfied with the close of my Virginia campaign. You must have learned of all the difficulties Lord Cornwallis’ talents and superior forces gave me—the good luck we had in regaining the ground we lost—and, finally, our drawing Lord Cornwallis into the perfect position we needed to capture him; at the perfect moment, our troops rushed in upon him. I count the moment when I commanded the forces of three field marshals as among the happiest moments of my life. I pity Lord Cornwallis, for whom I have the highest respect . . . and having allowed myself the pleasure of repaying the incivilities of Charleston at the capitulation, I do not intend carrying my vengeance any further.

My health is very good, and I suffered no injuries during our encounter. . . . Kiss our beloved children ten thousand times for me. Adieu, adieu.
¹

A frigate carried Lafayette’s letter to Adrienne and his letters to each of the king’s ministers in only eighteen days—spectacular speed then. News of the American victory at Yorktown produced consternation in England but “great joy in all of France,” according to Foreign Minister Vergennes, who only four years earlier had sought to arrest the French knight before he left for America. “Rest assured,” he replied to Lafayette, “that your name is now venerated. . . . I followed you step by step, Monsieur le Marquis, during your entire campaign in Virginia. I would often have trembled for you if I had not been so certain of your wisdom. It takes a great deal of skill to resist, as you did for so long, despite a huge disparity of forces, a man as talented in war as Lord Cornwallis. It was you who led him to his fatal end, when, instead of his making you a prisoner of war as he had planned, you forced
him to become one himself. History offers few examples of such total success.”
²
Vergennes added a sad note to his accolade, however: “I am replying, Monsieur le Marquis, for Monsieur le Comte de Maurepas. . . . It is not without great regret that you will learn of the loss we have suffered of this excellent man. You have lost a good friend; I can tell you that from personal knowledge; he confided his feelings for you to me, and I can assure you he would not differ with the good wishes I have already avowed to you.” Lafayette had indeed lost a staunch friend at court. Fortunately, he had been meticulous in forming many other important friendships.

One of the most important was French minister of war marquis de Ségur, the father of his friend and fellow musketeer from Metz, the comte de Ségur. “You have led a most glorious campaign, Monsieur le Marquis,” wrote the minister of war. “Our old warriors admire you; and the young ones, without the slightest taint of jealousy, want you as their model; your perfect conduct adds to the value of your virtues: the letter you honored me with is proof of that; I gave it to the King to read, and His Majesty was as pleased as I.”
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As evidence of the king’s pleasure, the marquis de Ségur enclosed an official proclamation:

The king, sir, having been informed of the military talents of which you have given such multiplied proofs . . . has desired me to tell you, that the praises you have so justly merited . . . have fixed his attention, and that . . . you may depend on his future kindnesses. His Majesty, in order to give you a very particular and flattering mark of this, assigns you the rank of Maréchal de Camp [brigadier general] in his armies to take effect after the war in America has finished and you shall have terminated your services to the United States and reentered those of His Majesty. By this decision, you shall be considered a Maréchal de Camp effective October 19 . . . the date of the surrender of General Cornwallis after the siege of Yorck [
sic
].
⁴

The king’s proclamation raised Lafayette’s rank in France to the nearest equivalent of his American rank and, in effect, completed the legend of his knighthood.

In the days and nights after the triumph at Yorktown, Washington, Lafayette, Knox, Lincoln, Rochambeau, the vicomte de Noailles, and other Freemasons and officers celebrated endlessly, continually toasting the United States, France, Washington, liberty, brotherhood, and each other at the tavern that served as Yorktown’s Masonic lodge. Lafayette drew closer to Lincoln and Knox. Lafayette’s insistence on avenging Charleston had touched Lincoln profoundly, and Knox asked Lafayette to be godfather to his son. Lafayette and the others visited Cornwallis several times: Cornwallis had been curious about Lafayette’s tactics during the Virginia campaign, and the
two men were cordial and respectful, if not friendly. Cornwallis was startled at Lafayette’s tall, robust frame. In contrast to the brash youth Cornwallis had envisioned, “the boy” had aged—and balded—prematurely. Cornwallis complained that General Clinton in New York had betrayed him by pledging support that never arrived. In fact, Clinton had arrived off Chesapeake Bay with 7,000 troops on October 24, but Cornwallis had already surrendered, and Clinton returned to New York to avoid engaging the French fleet.

The victory at Yorktown did not seal American victory in the war, of course. Apart from New York, British garrisons still controlled three vital port cities—Wilmington, North Carolina; Charleston, South Carolina; and Savannah, Georgia. With part of Clinton’s army still at sea, Washington urged de Grasse to support an immediate attack on New York, but de Grasse refused, saying he was overdue in the French West Indies. Lafayette proposed an alternative plan, asking Washington to send him to the Carolinas, to support Greene, who had encircled British forces in Charleston. The de Grasse fleet could leave immediately for the West Indies with Lafayette’s 2,000-man Light Division and stop at Charleston Bay along the way, land Lafayette’s troops, and besiege the city from the water while Greene and Lafayette stormed the city by land. Washington supported Lafayette’s plan enthusiastically, but de Grasse again refused to cooperate. He said he had too few ships to transport an additional 2,000 men, and that in any event, the danger of autumn storms made navigation through the treacherous Carolina sandbars impractical.

With de Grasse out of the picture, and Lafayette’s Light Division too exhausted to march overland, Washington ordered a fresh division to reinforce Greene, while he organized the rest of his army’s long march north to encircle Clinton in New York. Rochambeau’s army would remain in Virginia to anchor military gains in the south, while the army of Cornwallis was separated into three relatively impotent detachments and marched to prisoner-of-war encampments, each well away from the other two, in Winchester, Virginia; Fredericktown, Maryland; and Lancaster, Pennsylvania. With little action expected during the winter, Washington believed Lafayette could better serve the American Revolution by returning to France to obtain more naval support. “No land force can act decisively unless it is accompanied by a Maritime superiority,” he said. “A constant Naval superiority would terminate the War speedily—without it, I do not know that it will ever be terminated honourably.”
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At the end of October 1781, Lafayette said farewell to the men he had led for eight months, across mountains, fields, forests, and swamps, through icy rain, scorching sun, and smothering humidity. Day after day, he had encouraged and inspired them in battle, comforted and cajoled them in
camp, imbued them with pride or shame. They were his men; he was their marquis.