by S. P. Grogan
When the servant saw that Gilbert was now fully aware of her condition, she whispered,
“She has miscarried her child.”
No greater sword thrust to his chest, could have prepared him to accept such a shock.
“She was pregnant?” That question replaced with the more serious one, “Is she dying?” Still young he did not know what things transpired in these matters. But death came too easy to women in childbirth.
“No, sire. She lost some blood. It has clotted and stopped. All was quite early, hardly a speck. Thank God. She will recover and someday bear you a healthy infant.” The servant quickly crossed herself with religious haste to ward off such evil possibilities.
All he could do was mutter, “I never knew.”
“No one in the house except you know, sire, and it will remain so. I am faithful to my mistress, to your wife. If you, pardon me sire for saying this, but most of us know you enter her room when you have your needs, but such talk goes no further.”
“Thank you. Yes, thank you.” He had not forgotten Adrienne’s place in the life he was leading. He merely did not place her in any sort of priority, as if he had any more ranking except his selfishness to go a’soldiering. He knew now this responsibility. He was married. He did hold affection for Adrienne. Not deep love, or so he wondered what he truly felt. His previous short missives while he was at the Metz camp this last summer spoke with required familiar décor of salutations expected in such letters from a husband far away. But were they meant?
“Can I stay?”
“If you wish; certainly, sire. It is your prerogative.” The maid went to push a heavy chair near to the bed and Gilbert sank into it, and reached out to grasp Adrienne’s hand.
“Should a physician be called?”
“We are past that. She just needs her rest.”
He had not known of her condition. Certainly, she was going to surprise him with the happy news, and now this.
“Go tell my servant Blasse where I am and have him attend upon me. Have him fetch me a warm cloak.”
The maid curtsied.
“Shall I bring you some beverage?”
“Hot tea would be fine. And thank you for service to your mistress.”
The maid departed. Soon, his manservant Blasse approached and draped a warm shawl over Gilbert’s shoulders.
Gilbert choked out in a strained whisper.
“She stayed with me during my inoculation sickness. I can do no less than remain here. Please send a runner to tell the comte de Segur, who is at the Café Procope, that I cannot join him this evening, and may be indisposed for a day or two. Tell him no more.”
“Yes, Master Gilbert.” His valet looked down on the young girl in bed, sleeping, her face still being cooled by wet compresses applied by a servant girl.
“She truly loves you,” said servant Blasse, in a deep voice of fatherly concern. “It is too bad her outpouring is not returned on such an equal flow of affection.”
“What?”
“Nothing of consequence I meant, my lord. I just wonder how you feel towards her? I have seen her as an ornament upon your arm, and her smile of conjugal bliss to your grin of pleasure, but seldom do I see a family being created, where two are one.”
Gilbert turned a quick angry glare at his manservant. Blasse had been faithful for these past six years, stalwart as valet and lethal guard to his traipsing around, many nights at his back as he walked streets alone or in his carriage. Still he had no right in his position to say such things, yet...Blasse was right, if not presumptuous.
“Yes, I have not been a proper husband, or at least one who has failed to guess what she might be wishing for herself.”
“To know a woman’s heart is too dangerous for mortal men; merely being there, showing you are trying to understand her desires, that, young sir, is the key to a woman’s soul.”
Gilbert turned to the maid in the room.
“Fetch clean water. I will take over to keep her cool.”
Later in the night when it was only the two of them Adrienne’s eased her eyelids open and felt and saw Gilbert stroking her hand. Tears returned from earlier sorrow.
“Oh, husband, do you know all?”
“Adrienne, I know that you are well, that we will have many children, if God so ordains.”
“I do not what I can be for you? What if it will happen again? Is my womb to be cursed?”
“Hush, do not say such things. You shall be healthy soon enough. Tomorrow I am going to tell your Mother I am moving into this room with you. For we cannot know such mysteries of life if we do not practice often.”
He smiled. She smiled weakly.
“Yes, if it is God’s will, then practice we must.” Her eyes closed, she comforted.
WHATEVER HAPPENED BETWEEN them remains a cloaked riddle, wondered the Duchess d’Ayen. Over the last several months, she found that the young Marquis, her son-in-law, gave more attention than ever before towards her daughter. Unusual that when there were events, whether galas, balls, or even royal masses for holy days, Gilbert would take Adrienne, and spurn the rowdies of the court whom he had previously attached himself. And more often than not, during these times, when they returned from such social levees, it was immediately off to her—their—bedroom with him remaining.
So, it was no wonder, in mid-Spring, 1775, Adrienne de la Fayette de Noailles was comfortable to the light swelling in her stomach, to let everyone know that she was with child.
Part Three
Décisions et Intrigue (1775-1776)
1775—SUMMER
In America:
June 15, the Continental Congress unanimously votes to appoint George Washington general and commander-in-chief of the new Continental Army.
June 17—The first major fight between British and American troops occurs at Boston in the Battle of Bunker Hill.
In France:
June 11— 20-year old Louis-Auguste is formally crowned King Louis XVI at the cathedral in Rheims.
33.
SEGUR WAS LED BY THE main floor house servant through the Hotel de Noailles to a side door leading to the stables. Here, he was directed to climb the stairs, by himself, not to the hayloft but to a small garret space, the ‘laboratory’ of the Dud d’Ayen, who fancied himself a ‘chemist’, and because of this dabbling so others must have thought since he was an elected member of the prestigious Académie des Sciences.
Segur had been summoned and found he was not alone, and surprised at the other attendees at this secretive gathering. Secret because his friend, Gilbert, was not present, and in fact Segur knew La Fayette and his wife were out for a late spring carriage ride, enjoying the Tuellaries Gardens but taking such an outing at a very slow gait, he assumed, since La Fayette beamed the news he was to be a father by year end.
Sitting in very comfortable-looking satin chairs watching d’Ayen fiddle with his test tubes was the nobleman’s father, Louis, 4th duc de Noailles, and his own younger brother, Phillippe, the Duc de Mouchy. Segur, close friends to the children of these men, nevertheless felt himself overwhelmed. This was the central power of the Noailles family in the flesh. More importantly, more significant, these were two Marshals of France, newly appointed a month ago in March of this year by the King. No family had ever had two living Marshals in the same family; no family had the most Marshals in their family tree as did now the Noailles. Segur knew Louis XVI was a kind but weak king, dependent on advisors. If there was a guiding force behind the throne, one that controlled the military, here they were in one room—these two men; no, three, for one should not under estimate the political skills of the Duc d’Ayen.
Chemist d’Ayen looked up from behind a fizzing beaker.
“Pour yourself a glass of wine, Segur.”
Hesitant, he noted two carafes of red wine on a table, a glass waiting for his trembling hand. “Thank you, sir.” All three men stared at him as the young man sought confidence. “You sent for me.”
The Duc d’Ayen wasted no s
mall talk.
“What do you think about La Fayette?”
Segur was caught off guard to a question he knew might be laced with trap doors in his response.
“A good friend, a solid gentleman, sir.”
Crusty in a rasping voice, the Duc de Noailles, grumbled out his opinion.
“We have taken his measure in these recent months. Have watched him in the salons here at the house, at several of the court balls we have all attended. He seems a hesitant and a quiet fellow. No spark to him.”
“Every time I see him, he stands silent against a wall,” said the Duc de Mouchy.
“He says very little at our own suppers,” the comment from La Fayette’s father-in-law, with a sniff of disgust. “No animation. An inanimate object like a stuffed animal.”
Segur tried to come to his friend’s aid. He knew from his own views, one only had to find the right leverage to poke La Fayette’s interest, and one would discover a personality of blazing skyrocket instead of a mere candle flicker.
“Sire, sires, Gilbert, the Marquis, I assure you, has vibrancy. I have seen such.”
“Yes, yes. We know what you young rascals who pay homage to Her Majesty go about doing, setting bad examples.” Segur wished to protest, but the Duc de Noailles cut him off. “We are not here to judge. We have come together for La Fayette’s best interests. He is now a Noailles and it is time to have him act accordingly.”
Duc d’Ayen voiced doubt that Lafayette had confessed any such open feelings to Segur. Gilbert might have sought to be a son to his father-in-law but Segur knew from Gilbert’s comments the marquis had been spurned many times as not living up to the standards required of him, of the Noailles standards of conduct.
Said Gilbert’s father-in-law, “He lacks the finishing touches of a courtier as much as I might give him credit he tries to demonstrate. I think we here are going to ask of you a large favor. Take La Fayette under your wing and give him more exposure and education, keep him away from the bad side where too much money in his pocket might lead him astray.”
“I hear from your father,” said the Duc de Mouchy, a patronizing parental voice, Segur decided, “that though you are military, you do not see, unlike the Marquis, that as your career?”
“I am a military man now, sir, but I do have an interest in the diplomatic arts, if there are openings to advance my education.”
The Duc d’Ayen added his thoughts. “Political skills to foreign courts are valuable assets sometimes more lethal than a barrage of cannon fire. Good for you if that is your wish.”
“I do not see La Fayette yet as a military officer who can advance to high rank,” said de Mouchy, who was the true soldier among the group. “Perhaps in time, but he needs more training, years of it, to assume any responsible position.”
“In fact,” agreed the Duc d’Ayen. “With my daughter with child, it is her mother’s wish that we find a position closer to home for La Fayette for the near future, a few years at least. Over time, he may grow tired of this desire to go marching off and enjoy a respectable place here at court to represent the Noailles interests.” He smiled to his father and uncle. “None of us are getting younger. We must provide the best possible opportunities for those of the family.” And both Marshals of France nodded affirmation.
“It is my understanding,” said the Duc de Noailles, adding to what was an apparent pre-agreed strategy as Segur saw it. No one was seeking his opinion, merely giving him good counsel to make the impact less harsh when he next spoke in confidence to Gilbert.
“I have heard”, continued the duc de Noailles, “that the Comte de Provence will be willing to accept the Marquis into his personal family circle, with some title of responsibility.”
Segur could not remain quiet. He knew Gilbert’s central core of beliefs.
“He does so true wish to be a good soldier of high rank. To make the Noailles family proud of him, to bring back many captured victory flag standards.”
“If there was a war,” concurred Marshal de Mouchy, “we would all be off to a battlefield. But these are not the times and the King, though he hates the Anglais as we all do, does not want any war that is not upon our terms. These times require advancement at court, and the position being offered is to be daily near the throne itself.”
“A plum choice for the Marquis.” The duc de Mouchy put his seal on the stratagem.
“Yes, it is,” agreed D’Ayen, Gilbert’s father-in-law. “In time he will certainly see the wisdom.”
Segur did not think it would be easy as that. They knew La Fayette for his silence; they had yet to see his fervor against unjust causes.
A few more exchanges of light conversation where Segur agreed to try and make Gilbert more out-going and even worldlier, though warned, intellectually by court standards not by any public free-thinking. Soon, the Noailles Marshals took leave, with Segur and D’Ayen left together.
Segur tried to make a point on his friend’s behalf.
“He does respect and admire you, sir.”
D’Ayen could not be moved. “As he should in this household. He has not yet gained my respect for I have not seen any visible accomplishments, except impregnating a 15 year old girl. And if it is not a boy he will have disappointed me again.”
Segur thought the man’s judgment was too harsh on Gilbert but he could not begin to support an informed contrary opinion. This was too familiar and sensitive among family members and none of his business. He sought to change the subject to lighten the dreariness of the afternoon commands he had been given.
“And sir, what are you working on? It does look quite fascinating.”
The Duc d’Ayen turned to his cluttered work table with its tubes and boiling beakers. A smile graced his face as he returned to his own world of enjoyment.
“My fellow chemist and colleague Lavoisier intends to present a scientific paper before the Academy at the end of April. He has given me a draft of his memoir on the subject of ‘fixed air’ and has asked me to verify his experiments. He goes well beyond the work of Black and Priestly, though Priestly the Englishman believes you can distill a form of pure air.” He twiddled with several burners, talking more to himself than to Segur. “I am reducing metal calces with charcoal to see what chemical species remains.”
Segur glanced at the sheaf of papers on a desk, smudged and dog-eared, and inked in marked notations.
The title was a choker:
On the Nature of the Principle Which Combines with Metals during Their Calcination and Increases Their Weight.
It was only after a few minutes of silence, with d’Ayen, the chemist, absorbed in his work, that Segur realized he had been dismissed. He took leave and as he descended the steps took a deep breath, hand to his chest, somewhat fearful both of the instructions he had been given by the Noailles family patriarchs, as to what strange alchemies he must be breathing into his lungs.*
Gilbert's father-in-law: Jean de Noailles, 5th Duke of Noailles, Duc D'Ayen, 1739-1824. His mother, his wife, his eldest daughter will go to the guillotine. Adrienne who will witness these murders while a prisoner, will later save her father from poverty.
* Joseph Priestley (1733 –1804) Antoine-Laurent de Lavoisier (1743 – 1794) will share the claim of having discovered “dephlogisticated air" or oxygen, O2. Lavoisier would become known as the ‘Father of Modern Chemistry’. He would die under the guillotine in the Terror.
34.
THROUGHOUT HIS EARLY youth Gilbert was oblivious to his most serious flaw: that people, especially those he considered friendly towards him, would take advantage of his good [innocent/naïve] nature and use him for their own purposes. The senior hierarchy of the Noailles family believed they had the right to dictate the course of this young man’s future but were soon to discover that when Gilbert La Fayette set his own mind to a purpose he was intractable.
Segur’s role to the Noailles conspiracy to make Gilbert act more the dignified ‘courtier’ and more ‘outward in expression’ did not require
much effort as Gilbert was a willing follower as he sought in spring of 1775 to do those events and ceremonies where he could bring along his budding wife, Adrienne, giving her his attention.
As such invitations were posted to the La Fayettes for the salons of Madame Geoffrin and Madame du Deffand where were read and discussed the works of Helvetius, Rousseau, Duelos, Diderot, and Voltaire. Segur would make a point to seek to draw out Gilbert on what he had heard during the course of the evening. On occasions Gilbert and Adrienne were invited to the private dinner parties of Segur’s mother, sometimes those of the Princess de Beauvau or the Duchess de Choiseul. Here, might be discussed the recently seen operas of Sedaine or Marmontel and the tragedies of La Harpe. The same was to be said when the Duchess D’Ayen began to host her own small intimate gatherings, not of her own friends, but younger couples, acquaintances of her two newly married daughters, who by the Duchess’s actions they themselves gained knowledge to be applied for their own future households.
During the course of one of these social gatherings, Segur casually asked of Gilbert, “Have you ever read Voltaire’s Candide?”
“No, no time. It was never in the curriculum at Le College de Plessis.”
“I thought surely you would have devoured it; it is an adventure. You are such an admirer of battles and heroes.”
Gilbert turned to Adrienne, sitting next to him, they among an intimate audience listening to a reading of the play, La Partie de chasse de Henri Quatre by Charles Collé, read by the dramatist himself.
He asked his wife “Is there a copy of ‘Candide’ in your family library?”
Adrienne whispered back, “No, of course not. It was on the Church’s Index Librorum Prohibitorium [‘List of Prohibited Books’]. Mother would have nothing to do with it. It’s very anti-Catholic in satire, so I hear.” She paused and looked at the Comte de Segur. She treated him well, not only because he was one of her husband’s close friends, but the nobleman acted intelligently in public and treated her as an equal when they were in group settings. She added, a mischievous look to both men, “If Phillipe here obtains such a volume, I do beg, Gilbert, that I might read it upon your completion, for it would be something I could ask you questions and gain your estimate of its value.” Both men stared back at her, seeing the inscrutable in a woman, less a child of dolls and playthings.