THE EXPÉDITION PARTICULIÈRE IN RHODE ISLAND

6.1 The Transatlantic Journey
6.2 The Old World Meets the New World

6.1 The Transatlantic Journey

To put an end to the British "wreaking havoc on this beautiful country" was indeed the goal of the expédition particulière assembled in Brest in March 1780. By April 6, the troops were embarked; Rochambeau boarded the Duc de Bourgogne, one of only five 80-gun vessels in the French navy, on April 17. Everything was ready, but for days the fleet had to wait in the rain for the wind to change. The first attempt to clear the coast failed, but on May 2, the convoy of 32 transports and cargo ships protected by seven ships of the line, two frigates, and two smaller warships finally left Brest with some 12,000 soldiers and sailors on board. [1] Conditions on board ship were less than comfortable.

Baron Ludwig von Closen, an aide-de-camp to Rochambeau as well as a captain in the Royal Deux-Ponts was traveling with two servants on the Comtesse de Noailles. The Comtesse was a 300-ton ship of about 95 feet length on the lower deck, a width of 30 feet and a depth of 12 feet in the hold. For the next 70 days, she was home to 12 naval and 10 army officers and their domestics, of crew of 45, and 350 enlisted men from the Royal Deux-Ponts. Given the limited space available, even officers had to sleep ten to a cabin. At mealtime, 22 people squeezed into a chamber 15 feet long, 12 feet wide, and 4 1/2 feet high. [2] Closen complained that odors from "men as much as from dogs," not to mention cows sheep and chickens, "the perpetual annoyance from the close proximity" of fellow officers, and "the idea of being shut up in a very narrow little old ship, as in a state prison," made for a "vexatious existence of an army officer … on these old tubs, so heartily detested by all who are not professional sailors." Closen would have liked it better on the Duc de Bourgogne. In order to provide Rochambeau and his officers with the foodstuffs they were accustomed to, she even carried an oven to bake fresh bread! "There is nothing more ingenious," so the anonymous Bourbonnais grenadier, "than to have in such a place an oven for 50 to 52 loafs of bread of three pounds each! There is a master baker, a butcher, a cook for the officers and a scullion for the sailors and soldiers."

For enlisted men, conditions were much worse. War Commissary Claude Blanchard traveling on the Conquerant, a 74-gun ship of the line which drew 22 feet of water at the bow, had to share her with 959 men, among them the baron de Vioménil and the comte de Custine. [3] The anonymous grenadier of the Bourbonnais embarked on the Duc de Bourgogne counted 1,432 persons on board at the time of departure! [4] Private Flohr, lodged on the Comtesse de Noailles, describes the first day of the journey thus: "Around 2 o'clock after the noon hour we had already left the French coast behind and lost sight of the land. Now we saw nothing but sky and water and realized the omnipotence of God, into which we commended ourselves. Soon the majority among us wished that they had never in their lives chosen the life of a soldier and cursed the first recruiter who had engaged them. But this was just the beginning; the really miserable life was yet to begin." Soldiers slept in linen hammocks, which were attached to spars on the four corners and described by Flohr as "not very comfortable." Since two men had to share a hammock, "the majority always had to lie on the bare floor." Flohr concluded by saying: "He who wanted to lie well had better stayed home."

Provisions on troop transports have always had a bad reputation, and the food served by the French navy was no exception. According to Flohr "these foodstuffs consisted daily of 36 loth Zwieback (=hardtack) which was distributed in three installments: at 7 in the morning, at 12 at noon and at 6 at night. Concerning meat we received daily 16 loth, either salted smoked ham or beef and was prepared for lunch. This meat however was salted so much that thirst was always greater than hunger. In the evening we had to make do with a bad soup flavored with oil and consisting of soybeans and similar ingredients. Anyone who has not yet seen our grimy cook should just take a look at him and he would immediately lose all appetite." Since starvation was their only alternative, the soldiers forced the food down, living proof for Flohr of the proverb that "Hunger is a good cook." The soup was cooked in a huge copper kettle large enough to feed 800 to 1,200, sometimes up to 1,400 people at a time! These were enormous kettles indeed: if everyone on board ship would get 2 cups of  soup per meal, it took 150 gallons of soup for 1,200 men. If we add another 20% space for cooking to prevent boiling and spilling over, the kettles would have had to hold a minimum of 180 gallons! [5]

A common complaint on all transatlantic passages was the poor quality and the small quantity of drink available. According to Flohr, each man received 1 and 1/2 Schoppen of "good red wine" distributed in three installments at morning, noon and night with the meal. If they received "Branntwein" i.e. liquor, instead, he received 1/8 of a "Schoppen." Of water they received "very little, most of the time only 1/2 Schoppen per day." [6] This poor diet lacking in vitamins and minerals soon started to claim its victims, and Flohr witnessed "daily our fellow brothers thrown into the depths of the ocean. No one was surprised though, since all our foodstuffs were rough and bad enough to destroy us."

Arrival in Newport was anxiously awaited, and joy was universal when the convoy sailed into Narragansett Bay on July 11, 1780. [7] The troops debarking in Newport over the next few days were hardly ready to face a British attack. About 800 soldiers and some 1,500 sailors were afflicted with scurvy, and, according to Flohr, of companies 100 men strong, "barely 18-20 could still be used" to throw up defenses around the harbor. As the Newporters "could now daily see the misery of the many sick, of whom the majority could not even stand up and move …they had very great pity on them and did all they could for them." Despite this care, Flohr thought that "200-300 men [died] every day," but here he got his numbers confused: some 200 men was the total number of deaths. From September to November 24 men of his own regiment died; another 12 men had died during the crossing itself. Without having fired a single shot his regiment was 73 men short by the time it went into winter quarters on November 1, 1780. [8]

By July 15, 1780, Barneville reported that "les boulangers," i.e., the bakers, and "les bouchers," i.e., the butchers," sont établis au camp." From now on the troops received their daily "1 1/2 pounds of bread plus 2 loth rice besides 1 pound of beef." The amount of food consumed by Rochambeau's men was enormous. Besides the vast quantities of bread, rice, and vegetables for almost 6,000 men, the army needed 300 to 400 heads of cattle every six to eight weeks and kept an additional 200 heads in reserve around the camp as well as the salt pork it had brought over from France. [9] The troops seem to have supplemented their diet on their own: in late July 1780, Lafayette wrote to Washington that in Newport "Chiken and pigs walk Betwen the tents without being disturb'd." [10]

6.2 The Old World Meets the New World

Lafayette's pastoral landscape of "chiken and pigs walk[ing] Betwen the tents" in the French camp in Newport "without being disturb'd," and of "a Corn field from which not one leaf of which has been touched," was deceiving. By sending troops to the New World, His Most Christian Majesty had taken a considerable risk: it was by far not certain that they would be welcome! Before Rochambeau's troops set foot on American soil only a small minority of Americans had ever met a Frenchman off the battlefield. Frenchmen knew Americans as part of the British Empire, as enemies, not as allies, and fifteen years of uneasy friendship before the alliance of 1778 had not been long enough to wipe out old prejudices. More positive concepts of the continent as a tabula rasa inhabited by noble savages and some English settlers forming lone outposts of European civilization in the American wilderness were mere ideals formed by the wishful thinking of the philosophes -- Jean-Jacques Rousseau comes to mind -- rather than reality. [11] "In the eyes of their American hosts," as Scott has pointed out, "most Frenchmen remained alien, objects of suspicion and potential hostility." Many Americans saw the French as "the adherents of a despicable and superstitious religion, as the slavish subjects of a despotic and ambitious prince, as frivolous dandies lacking in manly virtues, as physical and moral inferiors whose very dress and eating habits evidenced this inferiority." [12] They were not afraid to express their feelings, before, and even more so, after!, the failed sieges of Newport and Savannah! Throughout its existence, the Franco-American alliance was under severe strains and it is a testimony to the leadership capabilities of both Rochambeau and Washington that the military cooperation achieved any results at all.

Such likes and dislikes, fears and apprehensions, can only be understood within their broader historical, religious, and cultural context. For decades, the French had been the traditional enemy for New Englanders. Throughout the eighteenth century, ministers from Maine to Massachusetts had encouraged repatriated prisoners of the Franco-Indian wars to record their experiences and read them from the pulpits of their churches. Their accounts were invariably anti-French and anti-Catholic, and "confirmed the longstanding Protestant tradition that linked the Catholic Church with violence, tyranny, immorality, and theological error." This practice had reached new heights during the French and Indian War and had been re-enforced as late as 1774. [13] On June 22 of that year, Parliament had passed the Québec Act, thereby extending the Province of Quebec south to the Ohio River and west to the Mississippi. The act not only ignored western land claims of Virginia, Massachusetts, and Connecticut, but also guaranteed the traditional language, civil law, and the Roman Catholic faith of its new French subjects. The repeal of the act had been a major demand of American revolutionaries.

A telling sample of the inter-dependence of Catholicism and oppressive government as seen by some New Englanders was provided by James Dana, pastor of the First Church of Wallingford, Connecticut, in "A Sermon Preached before the General Assembly of the State of Connecticut at Hartford on the Day of the Anniversary Election, May 13, 1779." In this sermon, delivered more than a year after the signing of the Franco-American alliance, Dana reminded the legislators that "the preservation of our religion depends on the continuance of a free government. Let our allies have their eyes open on the blessings of such a government, and they will at once renounce their superstition. On the other hand, should we lose our freedom this will prepare the way to the introduction of popery." [14] Enough members of the Connecticut legislature remembered this warning in their spring 1780 session and refused to vote funds to supply the French even though Jeremiah Wadsworth had been hired by the French as their purchasing agent. [15] Despairingly Jedediah Huntington wrote to Wadsworth on May 5, 1780, of his fears that the French aid might not materialize at all: "I assure you I have apprehensions that our good Allies will [only] stay long enou' to cast upon us a look of chagrin and pity and turn upon their heels." [16]

What worried some of the legislators was the very idea of a military establishment. A century after the Glorious Revolution of 1688, the slogan of "No Standing Army!" was an integral part of American political culture and had indeed been one of the rallying cries of 1776. In the Declaration of Independence the revolutionaries accused King George of having "kept among us, in times of peace, standing armies, without the consent of our legislatures." For many Americans, a standing army was a potential instrument of tyranny. That included their own Continental Army, which many political leaders such as Thomas Jefferson would have loved to convert to an all-militia force, and which was indeed reduced to a single regiment of 1,000 men as soon as the war was over!

In 1765, Baron de Kalb had reported that the Americans would not welcome a French army, a good ten years later, in May of 1776, John Adams had made his position very clear when he wrote: "I don't want a French army here." [17] In early 1778, Vergennes had sent agents across the ocean to probe American sentiments concerning the militarily desirable project of armed intervention by an expeditionary force. Their reports were less than encouraging as well. A year later, one agent recorded that the Americans were not at all disposed toward supporting foreign troops on their soil: "It seems to me that in this regard the Americans harbor an extreme suspicion." Other officers reported later that year that they too had taken up the issue with the Continental Congress though without much success. "The most enlightened members of Congress, though convinced of the necessity of this course of action, have not dared to propose it for fear of alarming the people by the introduction of a foreign army." [18] These fears are expressed in the diary of the Rev. Christian Bader of Hebron Moravian Church in Lebanon, Pennsylvania. On March 22, 1779, he recorded the rumor that "on the first of April the French fleet is to arrive at Philadelphia. Then all without exception are to swear allegiance to the king of France and, whoever does not, will be handed over to the French and stabbed to death." [19]

To alleviate such fears, Rochambeau's troops were declared auxiliaries but how much of a euphemism that really was became obvious to everyone when some 4,000 superbly uniformed, well-equipped, and regularly paid French troops joined forces with an equal number of ill-clad, poorly equipped, and unpaid Continentals at Philipsburg in June 1781.

How uncertain even leading Americans about military intervention became apparent when Lafayette approached Franklin with the idea in October 1779. The usually rather talkative American replied evasively that he had "no orders for troops, but large ones for supplies, and I dare not take any further steps than I have done in such a proposition without orders." [20] His request for instructions from Congress, mailed more than a month after the conversation with Lafayette, did not reach Philadelphia until March 1780, by which time Rochambeau's troops were ready to embark. When the French cabinet discussed the idea of sending troops to America, all it had to go by was Lafayette's enthusiasm and a letter by George Washington of September 30, 1779, in which the latter promised a cordial welcome if Lafayette should return at the head of "a corps of gallant Frenchmen." [21] The cabinet concluded, rightly as it turned out, that Congress would rather not be forced to make a decision at that point in the hope that the saying "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" would apply once the French had landed. But just in case that welcome would not materialize, Rochambeau was authorized to either make for the West Indies or to seize Rhode Island by force until he could be evacuated.

Such fears proved to be unfounded. Upon arrival William de Deux-Ponts, colonel-en-second of his regiment, remarked that the French had "not met with that reception on landing which we expected and which we ought to have had. A coldness and reserve appear to me characteristic of the American nation." [22] Clermont-Crèvecœur believed that "the local people, little disposed in our favor, would have preferred, at that moment, I think, to see their enemies arrive rather than their allies." He thought the British were to blame. They "had made the French seem odious to the Americans ... saying that we were dwarfs, pale, ugly, specimens who lived exclusively on frogs and snails." [23] Nicolas François Denis Brisout de Barneville, at 44 still a sous-lieutenant, thought that the image of the papist French, those "adherents of a despicable and superstitious religion," those "slavish subjects of a despotic and ambitious prince," [24] had at least in part been formed "by numerous French refugees," i.e., Huguenots who had settled in America. [25]

The legislatures of Rhode Island and neighboring states officially and heartily welcomed their illustrious guests -- everyone among the educated had heard about Chastellux -- and after some initial apprehension the officially-ordered welcome became genuine as officers were welcomed into the homes of Newport as well. High-ranking officers in Rochambeau's staff were quartered in Newport, and the close personal contact helped to overcome fear, prejudices and hostility. [26] By early September, Fersen could report, somewhat overly enthusiastic, that "there has not yet been a single complaint against the troops. This discipline is admirable. It astonishes the inhabitants, who are accustomed to pillage by the English and by their own troops. The most entire confidence exists between the two nations." [27] On 22 January 1781, even William de Deux-Ponts could write to his administrator in Europe that he "could get used quite easily to America. I love the inhabitants very much." But since he was married and loved his wife "more than anything else in the world," he would return to Europe at the end of the war. [28]

If there were tensions they were caused more often by a clash of cultures based upon the social status and expectations of those involved rather than by ill will. Not surprisingly it was the court nobility that had the most difficulty adjusting to the New World. Some had hardly disembarked when they began to complain about the less than enthusiastic welcome. Fersen, though himself a member of that group, wrote his father how these "gens de la cour" were in "despair at being obliged to pass the winter quietly at Newport, far from their mistresses and the pleasures of Paris; no suppers, no theatres, no balls." The "simple necessaries of life" with which Americans made do were quaint and fun to watch in others, but for a member of the high aristocracy such a life-style betrayed a serious lack of culture. Cromot du Bourg thought it "impossible to dance with less grace or to be worse dressed" than the women of Boston. [29] The till, a dance in this "still somewhat wild country," was "a sad piece of stupidity." [30] Many French officers such as Clermont-Crèvecœur thought the girls "pretty, even beautiful [but] frigid." Unless you "assume the burden of conversation, animating it with your French gaiety, [all] will be lost," and summed up his judgement by declaring that "one may reasonably state that the character of this nation is little adapted to society" -- at least not society as defined by the standards of Versailles and French court aristocracy.

As far as these men were concerned, the concept of noblesse oblige went beyond the intellectual horizon of the average American, who seemed "rather like their neighbors the savages." Their accounts are filled with complaints about the poor quality of American bread and monotonous dinners of vast amounts of meat washed down with innumerable toasts. In-between they drank either "very weak coffee," [31] Blanchard thought that "four or five cups are not equal to one of ours," or "vast amounts" of strong tea with milk. Eating seemed to be the major occupation for Americans, "who are almost always at the table; and as they have little to occupy them, as they go out little in winter and spend whole days along side of their fires and their wives, without reading and without doing anything, going so often to table is a relief and a preventive of ennui." [32] After dinner "each person wipes himself on the table-cloth, which must be very soiled as a result." [33] Looking back, such misunderstandings appear humorous, but one can only wonder about the hurt feelings of the host in Marion in June 1781, when an officer, invited to tea, pointed to some sprigs on the table and informed them that "one do give dis de horse in my country." Another "felt insulted that his dog should be suspected of drinking" his milk from "a cracked bowl" that Tavern Keeper Asa Barnes had poured it in. [34] And all prejudices of the people of Windham were confirmed when French soldiers, hardly encamped, came down upon the frogs in their pond and feasted on them during that memorable night of June 20, 1781. [35]

Some disagreements ran deeper and laid bare the deep cultural differences between the allies. In November 1778, Admiral d'Estaing informed the Navy Minister: "One must also fawn, to the height of insipidity, over every little republican who regards flattery as his sovereign right, … hold command over captains who are not good enough company to be permitted to eat with their general officers (one must be at least a major to enjoy that prerogative), and have some colonels who are innkeepers at the same time." [36] Compared to eighteenth-century France, New England society was a society composed largely of equals: in 1782, French traveler Hector St. John de Crèvecœur observed that in America "the rich and poor are not so far removed from each other as they are in Europe." He defined an American as someone who had left "behind him all his ancient prejudices and manners," who saw no reason to defer to someone because he wore epaulettes or had a title of nobility. [37]

Commoners in France had no right to question a nobleman's actions, yet the constable of Crompond arrested Rochambeau for damage done by his soldiers. [38] The chevalier de Coriolis explained the strange rules of warfare in America thus: "Here it is not like it is in Europe, where when the troops are on the march you can take horses, you can take wagons, you can issue billets for lodging, and with the aid of a gendarme overcome the difficulties the inhabitant might make; but in America the people say they are free and, if a proprietor who doesn't like the look of your face tells you he doesn't want to lodge you, you must go seek a lodging elsewhere. Thus the words: 'I don’t want to' end the business, and there is no means of appeal." [39] The vicomte de Tresson, a captain in the Saintonge whose father had commanded the regiment until replaced by Custine, put his finger squarely on the problem when he wrote his father: "Here they have more respect for a lout than they have for a duke in France." [40] Could it be that a colonist had just pointed out to de Tresson that here in America we "have no princes for whom we toil, starve and bleed." [41] Such language was anathema in the ears of a court nobility used to be accorded exactly that deference in Europe. They might find it amusing that the ranks of the New England militia contained "shoemakers who are colonels," who in turn asked their French counter-parts "what their trade is in France." [42] They might even chuckle as they told their friends and families anecdotes such as this one told by the chevalier de Pontgibaud:

One day I dismounted from my horse at the house of a farmer upon whom I had been billeted. I had hardly entered the good man's house when he said to me,

"I am very glad to have a Frenchman in the house."

I politely enquired the reason for this preference.

"Well," he said, "you see the barber lives a long way off, so you will be able to shave me."

"But I cannot even shave myself," I replied. "My servant shaves me, and he will shave you also if you like."

"That's very odd," said he. "I was told that all Frenchmen were barbers and fiddlers."

I think I never laughed so heartily. A few minutes later my rations arrived, and my host seeing a large piece of beef amongst them, said,

"You are lucky to be able to come over to America and get some beef to eat."

I assured him that we had beef in France, and excellent beef too.

"That is impossible," he replied, "or you wouldn't be so thin."

Such was, -- when Liberty was dawning over the land, -- the ignorance shown by the inhabitants of the United States Republic in regard to the French. This lack of knowledge was caused by the difficulty of intercourse with Europe. [43]

But if the curiosity of Americans toward the noble titles of the court aristocracy could be ascribed to ignorance, their strange foodstuffs to local customs, their provinciality to remoteness from European culture, their greed, seen as lack of devotion to the cause of American liberty, bordered on treason. In Europe, food and lodging for the army would simply be requisitioned, but here everything had to be paid for, and quite dearly at that. The French government had been aware that their allies lacked virtually everything and that Rochambeau's forces would have to bring much of their supplies with them. When Rochambeau arrived in Newport, conditions were worse than expected. In July 1780 already, he pleaded with the War Minister: "Send us troops, ships and money, but do not count upon these people or their means," and added the sober warning that "this is going to be an expensive war." [44]

What the French did not or could not bring they had to purchase at what was generally agreed were very high prices. Rochambeau felt himself "at the mercy of usurers." [45] Axel von Fersen vented months of frustration in January 1781 when he wrote to his father that "the spirit of patriotism only exists in the chief and principal men in the country, who are making very great sacrifices; the rest who make up the great mass think only of their personal interests. Money is the controlling idea in all their actions." They "overcharge us mercilessly … and treat us more like enemies than friends. … Their greed is unequalled, money is their God; virtue, honor, all count for nothing to them compared with the precious metal." [46] Schwerin thought the inhabitants of Newport treated the foreigners "fort mal honette" and were anxious to cheat them out of their money. Even Flohr complained, and with good reason. A 3-pound loaf of bread cost him 40 to 44 sous, though a common soldier like him received only about 150 sous cash per month which bought him an extra loaf of bread every eight or nine days but nothing more! [47]

Few officers wanted to admit that New Englanders were no worse than French under similar circumstances. Only Brisout de Barneville declared that "The merchants sell to us just as dearly as ours did to the Spanish when they were in Brest last year." [48] More importantly, the French, used to an economic system based on price and wage controls, received a lesson in free market economy based on the laws of supply and demand. Colonel Thomas Lloyd Halsey of Providence, one of Wadsworth's business partners, explained to Peter Colt, one of Wadsworth's agents, the high freight costs in his accounts thus. "I am sure they might have been lower had they even had asked a day before they wanted but they never would or did. They commonly sent to me at Sunsett to obtain what they wanted for the Morning, which is no way of taking the advantage of Business." [49]

Americans had long since lost faith in the paper money issued by their government and insisted that unlike their own army, the French pay in specie: gold or silver. Spend the French did, to the tune of millions, and much to the chagrin of the purchasing agents for the Continental Army, who found out that no farmer was willing to sell to them for worthless paper as long as Rochambeau's agents paid in Pieces of Eight! Finance Minister Jacques Necker had arranged for a first-year credit of 7,674,280 livres in early March 1780, 2.6 million of which Rochambeau took with him in cash -- not in French livres but in Spanish piasters, the most widely circulating currency in the colonies. [50] But when Rochambeau arrived in Newport he found out that his purchasing agents had already spent some 700,000 livres. In addition he needed a minimum of 375,000 livres each month to keep his army going, on top of almost 90,000 livres he needed to prepare winter quarters for his troops. When an emergency shipment of 1,5 million arrived in late February 1781, the navy, which had only brought half a million, was down to a mere 800 livres in cash. In early May, Rochambeau's son brought another 6,6 million livres in cash and bills of exchange, but by the time the French and American armies joined forces at Philipsburg, they were almost gone too. [51] Rochambeau loaned some 120,000 livres of the 300,000 he had left to Washington, much to the relief of the American, who was worried that his troops might refuse to march past Philadelphia unless they were paid. [52] For many Continental soldiers this was the first, and last, time they were paid in specie. [53]

Unfortunately the military proficiency of New Englanders was vastly inferior to their skills in "fleecing," to use Fersen's term, their allies. The French prided themselves in their expertise and derived great satisfaction from the high level of proficiency of the armed forces under their command. French officers, though impressed with the skill and even more so the devotion of the Continental Army, had little faith in the fighting abilities of the militia, an opinion shared by their American counterparts. They were not afraid of expressing their views, but few descriptions of that soldiery can match the pen of the chevalier de Pontgibaud describing Rhode Island and Connecticut militia gathering for the siege of Newport in 1778. [54]