by S. P. Grogan
Gilbert had joined the ranks of Free Masons, now stepping on the first rung of the hierarchy as 1 Degree Entered Apprentice in the Rite of Perfection. Freemasonry, though highly structured and steeped in ritual seriousness, was at its core a fraternal organization. Founded in 1716 in a London tavern, Freemasonry had taken Europe by storm. Their rituals with secret handshakes and meetings in private rooms offered a social camaraderie where the discourse could be more frank and open, more so than either Catholic dogma or strictures of court etiquette where participants might be wary of offering any public opinion, differing from the authorities.
Gilbert saw in this new membership a further acceptance to gain more general acquaintances. In sincerity if not eagerly, he sought to be liked and swore to himself that he would maintain himself as a dutiful Mason, and be thereafter eternally grateful to the kindness demonstrated from General De Broglie, seeing in the military officer what his father might have risen to in the military ranks, if he had lived.
Masonic Ritual
28.
BY HIS RETURN FROM Metz at the end of the summer, Gilbert’s relationship with his wife Adrienne was in awkward period. Pleasant and kind upon the outside, but lacking any mutual intensity of concern for each other, from him as being indifferent and casual to his vows and from her confusion on how to proceed as a dutiful wife. They had exchanged letters while he was in military camp but the readings of such were too apparent that Gilbert would write of general news and more so about himself and his surroundings. In her limited world, Adrienne was stifled in her feelings and her writings touched general gossip, weather, her near family, and little else, especially those thoughts coming from the heart.
Circumstances moved to remedy this odd estrangement. The death of the old king from smallpox brought fear among the court that an epidemic might be on the horizon. The Duchess D’Ayen had been scarred from smallpox, the same illness which killed her only son. Adrienne had a milder case and survived. But it was Gilbert who took the lead, to the surprise of the Noailles family. The Vicomte de Noailles, while at Metz, remarked that a battle might be lost if too many soldiers were laid low by either camp fever [typhoid] or smallpox. On this surprised realization to his military education, Gilbert had acquired a translated pamphlet by English physician William Herberden called “Some Account of the Success of Inoculation for the Small-Pox in England and America: Together with Plain Instructions By Which any Person may be enabled to perform the Operation and conduct the Patient through the Distemper.” Not only for soldiers, considered Gilbert, but this was to his true motive, that those who led troops must not fall to the scourge.
With the support of the Duchess she rented them a small house in the village of C———, and with two servants relegated to the kitchen, the three of them, Adrienne, her mother, and Gilbert moved in, and a physician was called to begin the variolation, where small-pox postules from a recent deceased victim were scraped into a scratch on Gilbert’s arm.
Where am I? He awoke in a drowning sweat, his body on fire. His eyes focused. It was a bare room, faded wallpaper. I have the pox and still live. He looked to his hand and found in it another hand, and saw Adrienne’s face, like an angel, though her own face bore worry and he saw wetness, in the eyes.
“Am I dying? It cannot be.”
“No, you are infected, as expected. The physician has come and changed the bandage. He says it looks like that the pox pimple will break and scab. He tells mama and me you will live.” She smiled her own relief, and brought a glass of water to his lips.
Swallowing, he lay back, realizing his arm did throb.
“You are brave to be here with me.”
“It is my duty.” She paused, and in a hesitant quaver added, “And I wanted to be here. It is important you are never ill again by this disease. It took my brother and my mother has suffered ever since from heartbreak.”
Gilbert looked at her, his eyes heavy, a malaise of exhaustion from the inoculation. He had these last many months accepted her as merely a part of those trappings required by his high position. Now, realizing, as he felt, this mortal frailty, death one possibility of outcome, he gained slow clarity, fearing his planned ambitions were at risk and if his self-priorities remained, at least he balanced them by opening himself to this young woman. He found himself with tender emotions towards her, an empathy if not short of love, offered to her kind feelings that she was someone special who would be part of his life. He squeezed her hand and gave her a weak smile, and drifted away into restless slumber.
Within the next twenty-four hours, his fever broke. A day later, his wound oozed pus and a scab formed. He would forever bear a small scar. As he began taking broth sitting up he regained his good humor accepting he would survive. Both the Duchess and Adrienne joined in the merriment of a recovering patient. Adrienne read to him one of the current novels of the day, Jacques Cazotte’s Diable amoureux (The Devil in Love) where the hero raises the devil. Acquired in Paris, the Duchess brought him the large manuscript with its art folios of the British explorer Captain Cook’s voyages to the southern seas. She knew he enjoyed those stories of adventure and felt no need to impose on him her own favorites of religious tracts.
Above all, the Duchess D’Ayen could see with her own eyes that both Adrienne and Gilbert were being drawn together by this period of his convalescence. More often than not, when together, their heads leaned to each other and sometimes touched as they laughed at stories, exchanged secrets. She could notice that each had changed, especially the marquis. The summer months of training in the outdoors had given sun to his face, a spurt in height, and filling out with meat on the bones, tight muscles to a straightened posture. Nevertheless, she saw Gilbert maintain his quiet reserve while in public, but within this recent retreat where there were only the three of them, the boy could be more demonstrative and friendly in his manner. If only he would be more open to all.
At the end of the month when they returned to the Hôtel Noailles, the Duchess could see a great amount of affection between the newly married couple. This pleased her as she saw the future would draw the whole family into the bustle of a youthful court.
29.
1775 – SPRING
In America:
April 14-- the British begin to enforce the Coercive Acts and ‘suppress open rebellion among colonists by using all necessary force’. On April 18—General Gage orders 700 British soldiers to Concord to destroy the colonists' weapons depot. At dawn on April 19 at Lexington Green a confrontation between 70 militiamen and these British soldiers results in the 'shot heard around the world' and begins the American Revolution. April 23—The Provincial Congress in Massachusetts orders 13,600 American soldiers to be mobilized. May 10—American forces led by Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold capture Fort Ticonderoga in New York. The same day The Second Continental Congress convenes in Philadelphia, with John Hancock elected as its president. On May 15, the Congress places the colonies in a state of defense.
AS SOON AS HE WAS WELL enough to return to the Noailles residence the invitations based on the family connection poured in that drew Gilbert and Adrienne into the court’s young set. It was a privileged clique where their new Queen encouraged her friends to ridicule all those over twenty five years as being not among the fashionable, a paquet (like a bundle of discarded clothes), and those over thirty must really be a century dated (a siècle).
In these social groups Adrienne found herself as a confidante to her now married sister, while Gilbert accepted that he could be a part of the social activities following in the footsteps of his brother-in-law, the Vicomte Marc Noailles. At the more formal balls and fetes, held at the Versailles court, or at the Palais Royale in Paris, or the many late evening salons hosted by sanctimonious matrons, the Lafayettes and the Noailles were two couples who attended together and seem to enjoy each other’s company, though Gilbert and Adrienne when seen at such events were more in the background, always on the edge of the crowd not central in participation.
People could not comprehend if this was a quality of dignified reserve, or shyness as to their youth, or perhaps, as the court gossips wagged, they were really dullards colored merely by rank and wealth, worthy of no more than a passing nod of recognition.
Gilbert, for his part, ignored his positioning, for he had returned from summer maneuvers in awe of his brother-in-law, and in the sensuality and love of good times that Louis Noailles demonstrated time and time again by his escapades. If not his passion for horse racing, and betting on the outcomes, his boisterous drinking parties, then there was the flirtation with the lonely wives of absent officers in well disguised liaisons, a life style that Gilbert marveled at.
Gilbert’s unabashed attempt to emulate Marc Noailles kept having disastrous consequences. There was the time he sought to match Marc’s drinking capacity, only to be carted home in a carriage in a drunken stupor. “Tell Marc, that I can drink as well as he!” he shouted, vomiting being the resulting poor badge of merit. From that demeaning episode, Gilbert swore he would forever be only a tippler of small glasses of wine.
In another more costly episode, Gilbert had his manservant and valet Blassé buy a string of ponies but not one was a winner, and a few came down with colic and were sent to pasture. A few hobbled equine found their way to the kitchen staff’s dinner table.
One attribute that Marc, and the other noblemen of Gilbert’s acquaintance boasted of, that the marquis/captain could not seem to achieve with any skill, was the courtier’s art of amorous flirtation that led one, whether male or female aristocrat, to a conquest in the bedroom, if not recognition for the value of bedding the right personage.
To have the proper and politically placed mistress (or lover) gave one a measure of respect. At court, a proper assignation with a woman of rank was acceptable; the lady who in turn would enjoy an upcoming youth as a candied treat from their own loveless contract marriage. Such temptations became part of the game in seeking to advance their lover’s career. Within the world of France’s aristocracy of the 5,000 or so ennobled hierarchy such affairs of the impassioned heart, of short or long term duration, were an acceptable wink to the norm. One, if a marriage was of contract form, even if love and respect (and children—heirs) was within that relationship, having a mistress or lover ought to satisfy a spouse’s sinful, animalistic nature and leave the hearth and home in good harmony without conflict and turmoil.
Gilbert grew up in such an environment and it was part of his world of acceptance without question. His father-in-law maintained a discreet and invisible liaison. At court, a brother of the king, the Comte d’Artois, a favorite of Marie Antoinette, not only had several lovers, but told the details of such encounters to the Queen’s entertainment. And Marc Noailles, only recently married as was Gilbert, seem to have captured the charms of an actress from the Opera. Why not? A marquis should have such an advantage. Did not Gilbert find surprise that the women of Metz when not looking upon Louis that a few pair of eyes made coy glances his direction and thought this red-haired youth, if not a Sphinx of voice bore a fine countenance in appearance.
As a seventeen year old courtier Gilbert sought a famous conquest and set his sight high, too high perhaps. Aglaé, Countess of Hunolstein. His plunge to earth became worse than awkward. He felt the shame of being a rejected suitor and suffered more for there was tittering behind his back in public.
The dialogue was short and stilted.
“Mademoiselle, such beauty deserves a champion for protection.”
“Are you afraid that thieves are lurking, who might compromise my virtue?”
“I would only be glad to be near if you have such needs that I might provide.”
“Monsieur, your offer finds comfort within my breast. But I must decline for there are others who take my safety... and my favors...with great sincerity. I would beg you, sir, not to press any further claim. Such demands on my time and heart are taken.”
Gilbert took his failed advances badly. With a bottle of wine sloshing in his stomach, he rushed into Phillipe Segur’s apartments, flailing, slurring,
“You like her. You are her lover!”
“Don’t be absurd, Gil. I hear she has a duke in her bed. I hardly even know the woman, she is beyond my league. And far higher in the celestial heavens that you can reach. Come back to earth.”
“I challenge you to a duel for her favors.”
“Gil, have you looked at her closely? She is old, close to thirty. Her face is too deep in paint.” [Aglaé was only two years older than Gilbert]
The two of them argued into the night, evolving into the inane. Gilbert slept on the settee, awakening to accept he was a fool, and one with a severe headache.
30.
WHERE MARC NOAILLES was the life of the party, Phillipe Ségur, Gilbert’s other close to a friend as he had, was the more cerebral in character. Ségur saw himself someday as a famous diarist and though his writings flowed with grammatical inaccuracies, he found himself in pleasure enjoying the salons inhabited by the literati.
To avoid future swordfights from presumed slights Ségur sought to deflect Gilbert’s recent miss in his search of a sexually enticing muse by presenting other libertine opportunities. On this particular occasion, soon after Gilbert’s downfall at attempted love-making, Ségur put himself in charge of the evening’s entertainment and led his small band of the lesser noble classmates, including La Fayette, an indifferent tag-along that evening, to the Parisian salon of Madame Geoffrin. Her fashionable house, located on rue Saint-Honoré, had for many years held the sway of attracting the Philosophers and Encyclodediasts of the Enlightenment.
Such salons of Paris were a social hierarchy couched within its own customs of repartee language providing the unique concept that ‘unusual thoughts’, those bordering on radical ideas could be listened to with intent. Meaningful questions were not dismissed with shocked abhorrence, far different from court life where manners bore stiff ritualism and the king and ministers’ mutterings were the finality to all decisions. For these guests, a distinguished salonniere like Madame Geoffrin would offer an aire of politeness and civility. Her attendees would be among the less snobbish nobility, a sprinkle of wealthy merchants, and certain intellectual commoners like authors, artists, and theatre people, implied but not spoken they all would mingle with a false sense of ‘equality’.
Another presence bringing light spice to these gatherings were those of Ségur’s small contingent of natty dressed uniformed young men. The salon life allowed viewings, those strolls and flirty introductions that allowed women of fashion and means to look for outlet to their cloistered hum-drum. Older women enjoyed the public acknowledgement of their rank and stature, and if they regarded themselves still suitable with beauty, could play without embarrassment the coquette and flirt by words of allusion, if not by outright suggestion. A soldier boy, one with title and generous family allowance would make a fine catch for short-term liaisons to escape dreary boredom of a dusty bed. The young student officers accepted such fawning, training to be adroit in their own conversational strutting. For their own needs, yes, illicit sex being the hanging fruit temptation, but in truth a powerful woman could act the role of confidante and offer valuable career guidance for a young man of ambition to rise above the palace intrigues and be noticed in a favorable light.
Gilbert’s amorous strategies to gain a frilly mentor was, after his most humiliating rejection, not currently on his mind as he milled through the drawing rooms, smiling when called upon, nodding politely, the only distraction being a proffered glass of champagne by a servant. Eventually, upon Ségur’s direction, they had gravitated to a set of fashionable people encircling an elderly man, bearing a taut thin face, his grey-hair hidden under a wrapped scarf, turban-like, attired in a black clerical-looking frock. Ségur whispered to Gilbert that this was the author Abbé Raynal (a former priest). From his little knowledge Gilbert accepted that Abbé Raynal was a friend with M. Denis Diderot, editor of the major work, Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire
raisonné des sciences, des arts et des métiers. The last volume of the Encyclopédie, published in 1772, had been devoured by the curious Gilbert, titillated as a young boy might in viewing the illustrated plates of animal dissections authored by the naturalist Daubenton.
Gilbert at the edge of the attentive listeners caught snatches of the conversation, while Ségur nudged into space available to become engrossed as a pupil to a master. It soon became apparent that Abbé Raynal held discourse on his own work, L'Histoire philosophique et politique des établissements et du commerce des Européens dans les deux Indes.
“Yes, a history like an encyclopedia is writing always alive, not deceased and ended,” explained Raynal to one question. “It has been three years since I first published. Please expect an appended revision, out next year, if my Amsterdam publisher still sees in me value for his purse.”
Another question from a dowager, silver hair coiffed high with jeweled trinkets intertwined, her face painted white with crimson rouge patches, “But is it not apparent by their tribal origins in the jungles Negroes are not of the quality of Europeans and must be slaves?”
Negro? What is this about? Gilbert sparked interest. The name of Abbé Raynal’s most recent treatise mentioned bore the word, Indie. New World Indies? Gilbert’s mind went to distant islands and black-skinned people that inhabited such far-away places, and his memory dug out the shipwrecked man called Robinson Crusoe and his servant Friday. Was the Abbé talking about travel and adventure? Gilbert leaned in to gain hearing of the dialogue espoused.