York.
“The intention of His Majesty,” the general continues, “is that there be perfect concert and harmony between the generals and officers of the two nations. The severest discipline will be observed. . . . It is forbidden to take a bit of wood, a sheaf of straw, any kind of vegetables, except amicably and in paying. . . . All faults of unruliness, disobedience, insubordination, ill will, brutal and sonorous drunkenness . . . will be punished, according to ordinances, with strokes of the flat of the sword.” Even “light faults of lack of cleanliness or attention” will be punished. “To make the punishment the harder for the French soldier, he will be barred from military service during his detention.”
The army, but not the fleet, had been placed under the orders of Washington. Ternay's instructions specified, however, that while his squadron had no other commander than himself, it was expected that he “would proffer all assistance that might facilitate the operations of the United States,” and that he would allow the use of our ships “on every occasion when their help might be requested.”
Good will was obviously the leading sentiment, and the desire of all was to give as little trouble and bring as much useful help as possible.
The French fleet at Newport
On the 11th day of July the fleet reached Newport, after seventy days at sea, which was longer than Columbus had taken on his first voyage, but which was nothing extraordinary. Abbé Robin, a chaplain of the army, arrived later, after a journey of eighty-five days, none the less filled with admiration for those “enormous machines with which men master the waves”—a very minute enormity from our modern point of view.
“There were among the land troops,” says Closen, “endless shouts of joy” at the prospect of being on terra firma again. The troops, owing to their having been fed on salt meat and dry vegetables, with little water to drink (on board the Comtesse de Noailles water had become corrupt; it was now and then replaced by wine, “but that heats one very much”), had greatly suffered. Scurvy had caused its usual ravages; 600 or 700 soldiers and 1,000 sailors were suffering from it; some had died.
They were now confronted by the unknown. What would that unknown be? Rochambeau had only his first division with him; would he be attacked at once by the English, who disposed of superior naval and land forces about New York? And what would be the attitude of the Americans themselves? Everybody was for them in France, but few people had a real knowledge of them. Lafayette had, but he was young and enthusiastic. Would the inhabitants, would their leader, Washington, would their army, answer his description?
On the arrival of the fleet Newport had fired “13 grand rockets” and illuminated its windows, but that might be a mere matter of course. Of these illuminations the then president of Yale, Ezra Stiles, has left a noteworthy record: “The bell rang at Newport till after midnight, and the evening of the 12th Newport illuminated; the Whigs put thirteen lights in the windows; the Tories or doubtfuls four or six. The Quakers did not choose their lights should shine before men, and their windows were broken.”
The game was, moreover, a difficult one and had to be played on an immense chess-board, including North and South (Boston, New York, Charleston, and the Chesapeake), including even “the Isles”—that is, the West Indies—and what took place there, which might have so much importance for continental operations, had constantly to be guessed or imagined for lack of news.
Worse than all, the reputation of the French was, up to then, in America such as hostile English books and caricatures
