He proceeded at once with all possible secrecy to raise the money and to purchase and arm a ship.  While the ship was getting ready, in order the better to conceal his intention, he made a journey to England, which had previously been arranged by his family.  He was presented to the British king, against whom he was going to fight; he dined at the house of the minister who had the department of the colonies; he visited Lord Rawdon, afterwards distinguished in the Revolutionary struggle; he saw at the opera Sir Henry Clinton, whom he next saw on the battlefield of Monmouth, and he breakfasted with Lord Shelburne, a friend of the colonies.

“While I concealed my intentions,” he tells us, “I openly avowed my sentiments.  I often defended the Americans.  I rejoiced at their success at Trenton, and it was my spirit of opposition that obtained for me an invitation to breakfast with Lord Shelburne.”

On his return to France his project was discovered, and his departure forbidden by the king.  He sailed, however, in May, 1777, cheered by his countrymen, and secretly approved by the government itself.  On arriving at Philadelphia, he sent to Congress a remarkably brief epistle to the following effect:  “After my sacrifices, I have the right to ask two favors.  One is, to serve at my own expense; the other, to begin to serve as a volunteer.”

Congress immediately named him a major-general of the American army, and he at once reported himself to General Washington.  His services at the Brandywine, where he was badly wounded; in Virginia, where he held an important command; at Monmouth, where he led the attack—­are sufficiently well known.  When he had been in America about fifteen months, the news came of the impending declaration of war between France and England.  He then wrote to Congress that, as long as he had believed himself free, he had gladly fought under the American flag; but that his own country being at war, he owed it the homage of his service, and he desired their permission to return home.  He hoped, however, to come back to America; and asserted then that, wherever he went, he should be a zealous friend of the United States.  Congress gave him leave of absence, voted him a sword, and wrote a letter on his behalf to the king of France.  “We recommend this noble young man,” said the letter of Congress, “to the favor of your majesty, because we have seen him wise in council, brave in battle, and patient under the fatigues of war.”  He was received in France with great distinction, which he amusingly describes: 

“When I went to court, which had hitherto only written for me orders for my arrest, I was presented to the ministers.  I was interrogated, complimented, and exiled—­to the hotel where my wife was residing:  Some days after, I wrote to the king to acknowledge my fault.  I received in reply a light reprimand and the colonelcy of the Royal Dragoons.  Consulted by all the ministers, and, what was much better, embraced by all the women, I had at Versailles the favor of the king and celebrity of Paris.”