by S. P. Grogan
“Yes, I will read Candide, Segur. After all, anything that is ‘prohibited’ meets the standard of the Wooden Swords’ criteria of flouting authority.”
All three laughed quietly in conspiracy. These were good times of friends and merriment.
Within the week, for another outing, Vicomte Marc de Noailles, on the behest of Segur, had taken La Fayette to join the central Paris Masonic lodge, Grand Orient de France, a definite social step up from his tented military lodge induction. To become familiar with his new membership as a Mason, Gilbert began to participate in the closed ceremonies and the social activities of brotherhood which followed each meeting. There had been a nation-wide fervor to set up lodges as the Masonic ‘religion’ gained a flood of enthusiastic followers. Segur found the Grand Orient de France Lodge too stuffy with a majority of older nobles and quietly began the process to start by year end a new lodge, to be called Saint-Jean de la Candeur. He had secured the agreement from the outspoken Abbé Raynal that the philosopher would attend lodge meetings on suggestion he could to give his little anti-slavery diatribes and well-argued polemics against the governments who sponsored such brutality of whip and chain. Segur told Marc Noailles, “Anytime we find ourselves within the voice of the Abbé, let’s push our friend to ask a probing question. Let’s see how he handles thinking aloud”.
Once more it was the event of another masquerade ball, sponsored by the Queen, certain to be a gay affair at Versailles and all those of the inner circle were invited. The comte de Segur had a close intimacy with Yolande, Madame de Polignac, whose husband was a distant relation to the Mouchy-Noailles branch. Yolande had developed a growing deep friendship with Marie Antoinette and privy to close court gossip. Thus, from one source or another, Segur had heard that within the week the Comte de Provence, the king’s brother, would be making a formal application that Marquis Gilbert de La Fayette would come into his private court family to serve.
Segur knew this would not set well with Gilbert for it meant that his days of being a soldier in the field, to going for summer training at Metz, playing at war games, would be no more. He would become the ultimate courtier, the dreams of all his family. If he bent to all royal whims, fast-track promotion would be his, including many years hence a Marshal’s baton might be within the realm of possibility. Gilbert would be well placed as one of the highest positions within the inner court just below the direct Bourbon bloodline and he, and probably Adrienne, would be confined in close proximity to the royal apartments, both to be available at a moment’s notice.
“You must be joking!?” Gilbert removed his mask, shocked, and stared at chattering and mingling party-goers costumed and ‘in disguise’, those who crowded the Galerie des Glaces within the Versailles Palace. This large formal Hall of Mirrors was detailed with over 250 mirrors, reflecting the flickering illumination from elaborate candélabres set upon faux gilded guéridons bearing allegorical sculptures. The original gold-leaf pedestals had been melted down by a previous monarch to pay for some forgotten war.
Gilbert had grown oblivious to these gilded ostentatious surroundings. His world was narrow to what he could see, what directly impacted upon his world. And tonight, Segur had just relayed the news of the marquis’s coming promotion, creating La Fayette’s bile discomfort.
“It can’t be. I want advantage, but, my dear friend, achievement by battle, and glory in victory.”
But what could he do? Certainly this was the wish of his father, of the Noailles family. To them it would be an ultimate honor. Prestige. He realized, more than ever, clearly, this was not what he wanted. For the first time, he must take a stand against parental demands, for his own good. He was a soldier, his status as courtier, to him, a name place, never meant to be a career. He felt unsure. How could he extract himself from what seemed like a fait accompli?
In such inner turmoil, he perhaps made an unfortunate snap decision. He had seen the king’s brother, the Comte de Provence, costumed but recognizable, walking across the hall with a small retinue, and Gilbert quickly interposed himself the royal’s path. He made an exaggerated flourished bow and said, “I want to compliment you on such a costume of design, definitely you are the mirror of a Falstaff.” And Gilbert quickly walked passed, rudely, not waiting for a reply. Both were acquainted, so there was recognition of each other behind the masks.
The king’s brother took a moment to realize that the comment had been a slight. He fumed. For not only was the Falstaff character of Shakespeare’s writing a portly knight, the suggested inference was that the prince had girth (and indeed at 20 years he was full in face and stocky in weight). That also Falstaff was the buffoon foil to England’s Henry IV and Henry V, the latter the victor at The Battle of Agincourt to France’s defeat.
When Gilbert rejoined the company of Segur, the question was asked of what had occurred. Gilbert thought quickly and said he had made a passing remark to question the Comte’s well-known memory on the hoped chance that if offense was given it accomplished only slight damage to each party. La Fayette knew he had been cruel in his remarks, something one of the bullies he had known at Collège du Plessis like Francois Barras, would have perhaps used in a taunt. It was beneath him, and certainly he had acquired an antagonist within the royal family but his goals, from early youth, must not be sent down the wrong road. He did not realize his action of this night created a greater schism within his own family.
The next day, the Duc D’Ayen did not hold back his anger.
“I do not know what occurred between you and the Comte de Provence, but I have been informed by his secretary that you are no longer welcomed within his family. Can you tell me what offense you must have given for it certainly did not come from all of our entreaties of your good character?
Gilbert de la Fayette restrained from any answer. None would save the situation nor lessen his father-in-law’s wrath.
“I do not know what to do with you? You seem not willing to represent the Noailles family at court; that you find more favor in the company of the Queen and her proclivities. It seems you have made such an effort to be forever a common officer. If that was your strategy, young man, you have achieved such. And if I may suggest, it might be a good idea for all present that you vacate yourself from this house, and join your regiment early in Metz. Perhaps the military will teach you better manners before you return.”
Gilbert, publicly chastened, bowed in respect, for he maintained such for his wife’s father, more than ever wanting to show his abilities above the court crowd, and took his leave. Yet, he smiled when the door was closed. Indeed the army would bring his future.
The parting with Adrienne next day was tearful. She clung to him in her farewell. They both swore to be in constant communicators by pen and swift post. Blasse, his personal servant would accompany him overseeing the baggage. His new servant and groom, Moteau, assigned from the Noailles household would travel with his horses. His friends Segur and Marc Noailles gave notice they would be a week behind him. Something new and strange rose within him for only miles outside Paris, he found himself missing, not so much the antics of his noble life, but the domestic times spent with his pregnant wife.
Masquerade ball at the court of King Louis XVI
35
GILBERT TOOK HIS DISMISSAL from the Noailles household as a forced banishment which in his mind of taking all setbacks as romantic challenges turned his depression towards becoming the best officer of the French army. He was now a true Captain in the Noailles Regiment. He threw himself into his soldiery duties.
In his whole life it is remarkable of the historic times he walked through and yet in his formative youth he did not take in with awe the major changes in the world occurring around him. No better example was in his military training.
The outcome of the Thirty Years’ War ending in 1649 was disastrous to French arms and prestige. Over the subsequent years there began debates of what could have been done better and what stratagems to win future battles and wars. Arms technology ov
er the last twenty eight years to La Fayette’s summer in training had seen the replacement of pikes in most lines of battle with more smoothbore muskets en masse, supported by, in close quarter, the bayonet. But the inaccuracy with these muskets raised new concerns on how best to use troops in the field.
Gilbert’s over-all commander at Metz was again General de Broglie (the Marquis de Ruffec) who was experimenting with formations of troops as set forth by the tactician on his staff, Mesnil-Durand. This officer believed in the ordre profound, where troops in column tried to destroy their opponent’s troops by mass shock wave firepower. This was the contrary to the English style of fighting, order mince, or linear warfare, where one line of troops fired and the next line stepped through a gap to fire their volley.
What Captain La Fayette was learning would be critical in the years to come. That ordre profound that kept troops in one central gathering versus some small troop sections flung out as skirmishers was preferred for it was assumed it might prevent the army’s worst fear: desertion. Such mass grouping required constant drilling, even for the cavalry dragoons, who might one day lead ground troops. These lessons gave Gilbert good field experience when he had to yell at his troops: “Homme de base, a moi!” [“Front rank, to me!”]. His troops, after the front mass fired, would quickly come to him to re-assemble. As he shouted such commands, he became intense, realizing that this is where his father had died, at the front leading his men.
All was not drilling, marching, sweating. In the company of fellow officers Phillipe Segur and Marc Noailles, Gilbert attended balls and fetes of Metz, and even had time for light flirtation with women who attended these mini galas and salons. Why not? After all, he had a pregnant wife, who upon his return would be unable to grant him much physical relief. And by such coy social bantering and being far from the court, he could enjoy interchange without ramifications, and found himself gaining more self-confidence. He found people liked him, yes, for his uniform, his position, but they began to see he had a fine countenance and a personality of interest worth engaging.
Discourse was not all social flippancy.
After an average 45-60 day ocean transit from North America there arrived the startling news: American colonists had fired upon regular British army troops near Boston, Massachusetts. A week later more details filtered out to the military camp on details of the battle: The colonists had actually forced the British from their goal of capturing illegal military supplies and forced the army column to retreat with heavy casualties. To Gilbert and the young nobles such news electrified all talk: a war somewhere had begun!
It is hard to express the impact on the minds of this peacetime army whose last knowledge of glory had been decades before most of the troops had even been born. Bottles of wine fueled sloshing arguments over what all this meant in world affairs. Because the Anglais were their bitter enemies, their sympathy went directly to these rebelling colonists, uncaring of motives. Yet, it was not favorable for a victorious outcome for they still saw the British military as the equal to those of the mighty armies of France and therefore the only world power as their equal. The colonial rabble stood no chance. Their conclusion might be minor empathy for the weak but ended towards fatalism. The French army knew that it would be only a matter of time when the iron hand of the might of England slammed down on these provincial farmers.
Still, the talk of a minor dust-up, even if a world away, encouraged the young military men to have hopes. One could now sense a fresh flourish in their training, and their martial music bounced on each note played.
Captain La Fayette did not jump into the discourse, took no firm position, for he felt these Americans, these refugees of religious intolerance, anti-papists, impoverished merchants, living in a land of colorful savages peeking behind forest trees, that these subject citizens would soon feel the scaffold and rope of being traitors, going against their lawful king. His feelings were thus of disappointment. This was not going to be the war, a war of notice, a world war, he so fervently sought.
36
FROM HIS EARLIER DISMISSIVE opinion, Gilbert’s thinking moved substantially into revelation by late summer near the end of the Metz maneuvers.
More news from abroad actually shocked him into taking closer notice of possibilities. As with most news of the times, it took the reading of several journals and newspapers, and if reported in French publications about English affairs, the reader had to discern carefully if the original correspondent was either a Tory or a Whig, for each political party put out their propaganda to their benefit offering choices between niggardly blame or exaggerated facts.
It would be that Gilbert heard from all these commentators in a stewed mixture. The colonialists, now being called ‘rebels’, had fortified a place called ‘Breed’s Hill’ across the bay from Boston. The British under Generals Clinton and Howe sought to dislodge them and finally did, but to great loss of over 200 dead, 800 wounded, with the dead percentages high among their officers. A lump swallowed hard in Gilbert’s throat when he heard such statistics.
The French officers now had a battle that they could analyze, all believing that it would have taken them only one charge to carry victory versus the three attempts by the British. Minor news within their tents during their candle-light evening talks was the passing footnote that the rebel’s congress had appointed a Virginia militia officer, George Washington, as general to oversee a continental army to be formed. Again, the consensus was that any rebellion was doomed for failure.
General de Broglie sought to regain favor with the new king. He had not been brought back to court with laudatory favors, but after the death of Louis XV, he had been shuffled aside and placed as Governor of Metz and commander over the summer military maneuvers. Immediately, he began to use his quick mind to rebuild his support. He saw an opportunity to gain supporters who might whisper in the king’s ear the Comte’s best attributes. And this was to cultivate the friendship, among others, with the Noailles – Mouchy families who had sent their sons to play at war. Last year, as Grand Master at Metz, he had initiated selected high ranking noblemen into the Masonic fraternity. This summer, he placed them in his social circle when he held levees at the Governor’s House. And then came that special dinner he hosted in early August which he saw as another way of cementing his camaraderie which in fact had greater significance than any of those attending that evening could ever imagine.
France and England were at peace, and as such, visiting tourists were the fashion. The younger brother of King George III, The Duke of Gloucester and Edinburgh, now 32 years old, was travelling through France to Italy. The purpose of the trip might be held as continental touring but in truth their 9 month old daughter had died in April and the Duke felt it best to take his bereaved wife and by travel keep her mind off such a devastating memory. To their itinerary, the royal adventurers and their party made a stop of two days in Metz and General de Broglie made the courteous gesture of hosting a small dinner for the Duke and Duchess, inviting the important military nobles of the garrison, most of them Freemasons. Gilbert was on the invitation list, to de Broglie’s mind almost as an afterthought, but again the boy was of the Noailles clan by marriage, and to a true paternal feeling, as his brother, Marshal de Broglie and the General (then Marquis de Ruffec) had known Gilbert’s father, if only from distant social circles, and all three had been at the Battle of Minden, when Gilbert’s father had perished.
Gilbert with some hesitancy accepted the summons though he actually despised those Anglais and always accepted he needed this enemy at the forefront of his mind to give him focus for his military goals. Eventually his acquiescence came down to his adolescent curiosity, the fact that he had never met an Englishman, let alone such a high peer of royal blood, and better yet, being an affirmed courtier, he wondered what might be the gossip and events of King George’s court. To Gilbert: Was it anything like what I live in my daily life?
It was a very successful evening of good fare, strong drink and most interesting
conversation. The Duke of Gloucester spoke German fluently and French passably with a Germanic guttural accent. The Comte de Broglie spoke English well enough. Gilbert spoke no English. Others within the party gave support as translators.
What soon became apparent from the discourse was a striking and antagonistic split between the political views of the Duke and that of the policies of his brother the king, Whig versus Tory feelings straining the royal family circle. And whether by several glasses of strong French wine or by the Duke’s comfort in finding a sympathetic audience, the Duke let his views, where they were perhaps restrained within the English court circle, become loud, complaining, and tinged with political bitterness.
Gilbert became enthralled for he was listening to living history, events in motion. The Duke, before his departure, had received letters from the American Colonies, and proceeded to give those at the dinner the latest news, more accurate letters though tardy in delivery than exaggerated tabloids. This telling extended into a lecture of the political disputes, the failure to gain representation by the Colonies before parliament and the estrangement of loyalties by Parliament’s foisting taxes upon many items of American goods, such as tea and writing paper.
The Congress of the Colonies meeting in Philadelphia were extending, so his friend wrote the Duke, an olive branch petition telling the King that they were upset at the ministerial policies of his Parliament and not the king himself. That they were loyal servants and only sought proper redress and only had armed in proper defense and were willing to seek ways to remain loyal subjects.