by S. P. Grogan
And, so in the midst of Carnival Week the evening ended on a high note. The Noailles Family and Gilbert by association, had been favored by the Queen’s visit, but better news came the next morning. A courier arrived through the auspices of De Broglie’s offices—Lt. Dubois-Martin had found in Bordeaux a fair ship the owner was willing to sell. It would be ready for departure in Mid-March.
Gilbert was elated. Whether, he regarded it directly, or subconscious to his mind, it was of great significance here to understand he had made his second adult decision. And by his command (and deep purse), the secret plan was so far succeeding, with the ship buying and provisioning carried out by others (who likewise gained benefit). That gave Gilbert an inner positive stance, gravitas, towards any of his future actions. He now ardently believed his heroic stature must soon follow and with a physical metamorphism he started to walk with his held high, straight back, in a slow cautious strut, regarding all with circumspect, like a proud cock in the farmyard. Finally, he thought he knew what he was about.
Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, 22 years old at this time
54.
HIS WORLD BECAME QUICKLY hectic. Gilbert was to depart to London within five days with his cousin by marriage, the Prince de Poix, five years older than he, and far more proficient at enjoying life and its sensual pleasures. Meanwhile, Gilbert’s nights still held him to engagements of balls and attendance at theatres and large dinner parties.
But during the daytime his first rush was to De Broglie’s house to discuss the final arrangements on the ship’s purchase.
The ship was of 220 tons, held no protection but a promise to add at least two cannons. A crew of thirty had made profitable trips to America and the boats owners, Recules de Basmarein et Raimbaux of Bordeaux, hearing of the Marquis de La Fayette’s involvement and his money to be at risk in the purchase, went forward with a transaction. The purchase price was 112,000 livres with cargo. A cash price of 40,000 livres as down payment, the balance in June. Gilbert could cover most of the first part of the purchase as his accountant had set aside funds to his master’s earlier bidding. He would have to on the sly borrow the balance from friends.
Since La Fayette would be on the high seas or probably in America by June, De Broglie, feeling his own star rising with De Kalb going aboard on their own private mission, agreed to advance a portion of his funds to any remaining balance to La Fayette’s written guarantee. Secretary Dubois-Martin drew up a legal document which Gilbert eagerly signed. In doing so, he asked one command, as the ink dried on the paper. He did not like the ship’s name, ‘La Bonne Mere (The Good Mother). No, that would not do for such an auspicious undertaking. He chose the more appropriate, La Victorie, and so it was to be. The ship could have been wormed and leaky and only a person like Gilbert would see the omen of good fortune that lay in such a name.
Gilbert then, without very much courtesy, intruded upon Commissioner Deane’s daily calendar, to proclaim,
“Sire you have heard my words of favoritism for your cause, now you shall see my zeal to act. I now purchase a ship to carry your officers and myself. There is now confidence in the future, and it is especially in this hour of danger that I wish to share your fortune!” He paid his respects and departed.
Dr. Franklin from down the hallway having heard the commotion looked in at his fellow Commissioner.
“You look as you touched one of my electrical devices.”
“It is our young Marquis de La Fayette. Ever the believer he will find a way to join the Continental Army.”
“You did give him a commission, as I recall?”
“At the time it seemed proper. He is the highest of rank within the King and Queen’s court to have volunteered. His marriage into the powerful Noailles clan, plus his own historic pedigree, and I must admit his open, as he calls it, ‘zeal’, for our goal of independence, does make him both a good song to sing and a breath of fresh air upon all our bad tidings of late. But now, we can’t send ships with arms out from the ports, and he is going to run around boasting of buying a boat. All is for naught.”
Franklin removed his bearskin cap, as the rooms they worked from always bore a chill. He rubbed his few hairs on a balding scalp.
“He is a very young man,” said Franklin, “we can’t bear down and suppress any young man who can well play our tune. These days they are few and far between. And as my dear friend Poor Richard once exclaimed: ‘Necessity never made a good bargain’.
Deane reminded himself to tell his secretary Carmichael to convey to the marquis not to be too rash. That evening Gilbert would pour out his own effusion to Carmichael, that his ship would be ready soon, that he would go to fight for America’s freedom. All stirring words of the American cause which Carmichael had educated Gilbert upon was being poured back in flowery flourishes of high passion. Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette had become a zealot for a free and Republican government. Perhaps Gilbert did not understand all the psyche of meaning in such pronouncements but nevertheless he felt the intensity to swear solemn oaths of his own brand of patriotism, idealism and benefits to himself rolled into one.
Across the street, on different corners, the two spies, unknown to each other, had followed Gilbert as he went from De Broglie’s mansion to the American Commissioner’s rooms. On this day, the boy seemed unconcerned, and did not once glance back to see if he were followed. Still, the two spies held their distance for they had bruises to show from a previous evening when they were discovered and both pummeled unconscious by an unknown assailant. Both were unaware of the other, one as a coarse gentleman, the other a street vagrant, both agents for pay to opposing sides. Police Chief Lenoir received the reports of his secret agent and then if valuable information, passed onto Minister Maurepas’s office; the other spy, gave invisible ink messages direct to the secretary of Lord Stormont. They were both surprised when Gilbert turned into the Office of the Juge d’Armes, Antoine Marie d'Hozier de Sérigny. He stayed a half hour and then back to the Hôtel de Noailles and a ride to Versailles that night for another all night of dance and fireworks.
Gilbert knew his life was making a momentous change and therefore felt that such intent should be reflected upon a warrior’s shield. Since the 1600’s the d’Hozier family, with a responsibility passed down from generation to generation, had kept the records of all French heraldry, the sacred coat of arms for French families and nobility. Even various edicts of previous kings’ attempts to take over and control who received such recognition, attempting to find another revenue source through favoritism, had been thwarted. The d’Hoziers were the undisputed record keepers wherein new coat of arms, perhaps with a French or Latin inscription were entered into their register catalogue, Armorial général, ou registre de la noblesse de France (10 volumes, published between 1738 to 1768).
Or if there were to be modifications to a coat of arms as Gilbert had decided upon, a small act but another decision, a step in his maturity, a definite sign of confidence.
He kept the historic herald design worn by so many proud La Fayettes of history but changed its motto from: ‘Vis sat contra fatum’—‘Determination is enough to overcome destiny’—to the French of ‘Cur Non?’ – ‘Why not’? To himself he said,
“That this might serve me both as an encouragement and a response.”
He felt the need; he faced the pressures of his own personal decisions, impulses pulling in the direction of where his heart wished to go, against all those outside influences by others who tried to tell him different.
And the next day, he would be put to the test.
Cur non? Why not?
55.
“THE PRINCE DE MONTBARREY,” announced the servant to Gilbert. The young nobleman was then sitting in the drawing room reading. Adrienne working at needlepoint was seated on the settee near him.
“Show him in.” Gilbert had received the prince’s card earlier in the morning, understood the man’s office, and had time to devise what his responses to the high-placed messenger
might be.
“Should I go, my dear?” Adrienne began to fold up her lace into a sewing basket.
“No, please stay. There’s nothing here requiring privacy.” That was a surprise to her. She had grown accustom to the assorted strange visitors that had come to the Noailles House to meet behind closed doors with her husband, including the Prussian and that one American, who after his first entry into the parlor, quite secretive, that on subsequent visits, never alighted from his carriage. The American, a man called only Carmichael, and he and Gilbert would drive off together. No explanation of purpose to anyone. She knew this had to do with all the American problems, but she had not been that intent on what this all meant. Being a woman of the court she was being schooled well in gossip, but still quite young had yet to find understanding in the concept of ‘intrigue’.
She returned to her needle work, accepting the role of sphinx.
Gilbert rose to greet his guest and they exchanged formal greetings befitting their roles.
The gentleman entering was distinguished, more man of politics, than a courtier active within the Versailles crowd. Alexandre Eleonor of Saint-Mauris, had first been comte du Montbarrey, before later faking his heraldry by buying his prince title of the Holy Roman Empire in 1774 for over 100,000 louis. Born to his own title, Gilbert’s marquis pedigree ranking, was socially far more legitimate and several pegs up in the hierarchy. Montbarrey, at 45 years nevertheless now held high rank within the War Department, and was related to and personally favored by Madame de Maurepas, wife of the Prime Minister, on such an errand he was now engaged.
“It has come to our attention,” said the Comte-Prince, not mentioning by name but inferring that he must represent the highest within the government, “that you have been making yourself familiar with the American Commissioners?” His eyes gave stern reproach to Gilbert, and he gave no acknowledgement to Adrienne’s presence. He had many mistresses and women to him were either chattel or useless pieces of furniture. And he had heard the marquis’s wife was pregnant, so he paid her no attention and dismissed her as a mere birthing piece of furniture.
Gilbert gave great deference to the representative of the government. After all, this, though seeming a social visit in nature, was more serious, as a direct conduit to the government, one which had not blessed his and his friends attempt at volunteerism. Gilbert had decided upon his course and now would only speak the truth, well, half-truths.
“Yes, that it is so. I have made no secret of my wish to assist the Americans in throwing of the yoke of British tyranny. A fact, I believe, the French people also ascribe to.”
Montbarrey cleared his throat. He expected fabrications where he in turn could say he had evidence of the noble’s illicit contacts. He readjusted his speech.
“As you are aware His Majesty’s government has no formal agreement of commerce or felicity with these American rebels.”
“Insurgents, sir, patriots, even to some, I have heard?” Gilbert gave back a smile, firm yet at the same time inquisitive, as if questioning what is the right nomenclature?
“Well, yes. But an unrecognized government if it is that. The matter, sir, is that we need to put to rest what your intentions with these Americans are. It is certain you cannot interfere with the government’s talks, nor would we wish to see any imprudence, indirectly of course, that might interfere with sensitive talks with these people.”
Gilbert could have suddenly jumped up and thrown out spiels of embellished rhetoric on how he was in totally support of the Colonial’s objectives, but knowing a secret plan was in motion, and knowing his ultimate goal was to get the blessing of government for this travel, even his father-in-law’s approval, he had to walk a narrow line.
“I think it no secret, Comte, that I wish to go to America and help them beat the English. It has been my desire to defeat the English since my youth.”
Adrienne paused, stopped her work, bit her lip, and though she acted as if she had not heard his declaration. She had known his desires for these past many months, ever since the three young nobles had made their request to her father and to the government and been heatedly rejected, but this was the first time he had mentioned his quest aloud. The fear of losing him to a far-off war clutched at her stomach. She resumed her work and they did not notice her stress for it laid grave and stoic within.
The agent and messenger of the War Department, shifted uncomfortably. Not going the way he thought.
“And how were you going to get there, the King and his ministers have stopped all aid to the Americans, the ports are embargoed against shipping any war supplies?”
“Oh, I don’t know, your grace, perhaps I will just have to go shopping and buy myself a ship and sail away myself.” He said this with a flippant laugh, a feminine gesture of his hand in dismissal at the notion. The ridiculousness of such an idea was the response he got from Montbarrey, and he gave his own chuckle to the notion.
“But I must be serious, marquis. French officers are forbidden to go off and fight in the American Colonies.”
“Does it not seem to you, sir that such a stricture might not be long lasting? Have I not heard that the government has received letters, memorandum of purpose from the Commissioners, seeking support to the American’s cause?” This had come from Carmichael. “And that the government might be willing to make secret loans to help the Americans?” This had already occurred but even certain secrets had been held back from the nineteen year old, a presumed soldier of fortune.
Montbarrey knew also where Gilbert had gained his information. The Americans, the French court and Paris salons, were a sieve when it came to keeping secrets. He recalled, was it not one of the sayings of this Doctor Franklin, recently arrived, that for three men to keep a secret two of them must be dead.
“Such a possibility does exist, but any actions to be first taken shall arise through the government and no one else. I believe that is the proper message one might convey to the King’s subjects.”
“And as a dutiful and loyal subject to the King...and Queen, I shall abide by their wishes and wait, hopefully, not too long hopefully, for the government to catch up to my desires.”
Montberry nodded, realizing this was all he would gain.
“And I hear you are bound for London soon?
“Yes, quite so, I leave within three days.” He paused to place emphasis, and continued, “Probably gone perhaps a month or two. My wife’s uncle wishes me to be immersed in the English life, understand their government’s wishes for a continued peace...at least with us.”
“Remarkable wisdom, the Ambassador, the Marquis de Noailles, offers. And plenty of time to learn their ways, especially to the future, if we were to become enemies once more.”
“Yes, true that is,” said Gilbert.
Montbarrey believed he had given the message, suggestive in the least that indiscretion and interference in public policy would not be tolerated by the Crown. Bowing to both husband and wife he made his departure. Gilbert resumed his reading, Adrienne her handiwork.
Perhaps Montebarry should have looked more closely at the book Gilbert had held in his hands, deeply engrossed, as the Minister’s agent arrived. The Manual Exercise of 1764. Published in London in 1770, this was a palm-sized edition one could carry in their saddle bag or in a marching soldier’s haversack—meant for a traveler. In Gilbert’s other hand, as reference, he held a small English-French dictionary, and from time to time would make small pen scratches in rudimentary translation. If I am to lead American troops one must understand from the British Army perspective, the training in order arms and those of large troop field movements—and the words...in English...an officer, or rather that I, might give as command to my soldiers...under fire.
Gilbert and Adrienne, in this quiet setting, spoke no more except on trivial matters, on the last parties and dinners they would attend before his departure across the Channel. Adrienne could not help feel Gilbert inward in his silence was in a frenzy, tense, unsettled. What could I p
ossibly do, she thought to herself. She had no easy answer. I cannot stop him in the direction he wishes to take. He talks of destiny, of fate. What can I do if it is God’s will he leaves me?
56.
THE COMTE DU MONTBARREY, styled himself as Prince, but he was just another War Department official as the War Minister saw him, and a protégée of his wife, to be thought of even less for her tastes in talent.
“I called upon the Marquis de La Fayette this morning.”
Minister Maurepas had his desk stacked high with official documents requiring his attention. This matter was a speck of discomfort within a realm of more meaty issues.
“And what, the young man is still smitten with the Americans? And you let him know of our displeasure?”
“All was conveyed to him, cordially,” said Montbarrey, also glad to be done with the chore.
“And this then is a closed chapter. The boy will be a good child, and not stray again?”
“On the contrary, Minister, I feel he is crazed with the heroic aspects of some noble quest, and unless chained in a deep dungeon, will throw off all sensible advice and do the exact opposite of what I suggested was the prudent course, by your wishes.”
“Not what I wanted to hear.”
“The good news, he will be off to visit our Ambassador in London, a family relation, you know, and gain his satisfaction sizing up our future foe in being only a tourist. From our sources [Police Chief Lenoir‘s spies] I expect him to be out of the way for many weeks.”
“Well, that will have to do as good news. My wife will pass the word to the Duchess D’Ayen not to be alarmed at such childish dreams. And certainly Vergennes can solve his issues with the Americans without a young noble of the Queen’s Court Club being a nuisance. I think Vergennes needs to get back to solving this Franklin interloping.”