Washington [285]
That evening Washington was entertained with an elegant supper and the overture from a French opera. The next morning he informed de Grasse of his wish to confer with him. The French admiral had already issued a rather huffy letter to him, questioning the dilatory pace of the Continental Army. “The season is approaching when, against my will, I shall be obliged to forsake the allies for whom I have done my very best and more than could be expected,” he wrote reprovingly.25 It was easy for the French admiral to quibble. The soldiers marching south from Head of Elk to Annapolis faced an exhausting trek through an inhospitable landscape that one soldier depicted as “abominable, cut by deep ravines and many small rivers, which the soldiers were obliged to ford after removing their shoes and stockings.” The next day they negotiated a riverbed “so rocky that the horses risked breaking their legs. All the way across we were in water up to our waists, and the horses up to their knees.”26 At Annapolis the soldiers could finally sail the rest of the way down the Chesapeake to the James River.
On September 17 the Count de Grasse sent a boat to convey Washington, Rochambeau, and their aides to his flagship, the Ville de Paris, riding at anchor off Cape Henry. Not since his Barbados trip as a teenager had Washington spent so much time afloat. It was noon the next day before the generals reached the French armada and gazed at the grand spectacle of thirty-two giant ships spanning the horizon. Reputed to be the world’s biggest warship, the towering Ville de Paris— a gift from the city of Paris to the king—bristled with 110 guns and 1,300 men. Varnished to a high gloss, it was given an extra coat of French glamour by flowers and plants festooning the quarterdeck. Admiral de Grasse turned out to be a good-looking man of imposing height and girth. “The admiral is a remarkable man for size, appearance, and plainness of address,” noted Jonathan Trumbull, Jr.27 A scion of an aristocratic family, de Grasse had naval experience dating back to the War of Jenkins’ Ear in 1740, when he had fought against Lawrence Washington. At six foot two, de Grasse was slightly taller than Washington, whom he embraced with gusto, kissing him on both cheeks and exclaiming, “Mon cher petit général!”28 Never comfortable with physical affection, Washington was less amused than Knox and his officers, who roared with unrestricted laughter.
Despite the formal dinner and other marks of courtesy that de Grasse had arranged, the talks did not go smoothly. He set a deadline of no later than November 1 for his time in Virginia, and Washington hoped the Yorktown siege would fit into this abbreviated timetable. He gave de Grasse a mixed grade, calling him a “gallant officer” while also bemoaning his “impetuosity.”29 Mostly Washington felt powerless in dealing with the arrogant admiral. When their talks ended, de Grasse devised an elaborate sunset send-off for Washington, with crewmen on all the ships scrambling up into the riggings and firing muskets in the sequence known as a feu de joie.
For three days Washington’s departing boat was buffeted by gusts, and he didn’t return to Williamsburg until September 22. By then, the last remnants of the Continental Army had tramped in from their marathon journey. No sooner was Washington back than he received an unpleasant surprise. Admiral Graves had returned with his fleet to New York, where he hoped to be reinforced; to avert this, de Grasse contemplated a move north to cut off any British movements by sea. Writing to de Grasse, Washington communicated his “painful anxiety” at any action