Lafayette_Courtier to Crown Fugitive, 1757-1777

by S. P. Grogan

  The three press men shared silent exchanges, not one of them promising.

  “Toss down the money and we’ll see.”

  “No, mate. It would be best you take him out of the coach and we’ll watch you load him in your boat, and before you shove off, the purse is yours. Besides, am I mistaken, that ship’s pursers might be paying you four a bounty for each live body brought aboard?”

  The Press Gang knew they were not dealing with the normal low lifes they met along here in Gin Row, but that did not make them smart at possible consequences.

  “Well, what if we just come up there and relieve you of that purse, as well as invite you aboard a good King’s ship for a voyage to see the New World up close.” All three men took a step forward, and one scraggly brute grabbed the horse’s reins. They looked up with evil faces to change expressions as they saw a brace of Blasse’s pistols (Gilbert’s actually, borrowed) pointed into the faces of the closes presumed kidnappers. Diggs’s sported his own weapon, the choice was the English Dragon handgun, a blunderbuss; here a French made Espingole, with a wide mouth barrel, a flintlock cocked holding a score of lethal pellets. Someday the weapon would be universally known as a shotgun.

  “Should we all be reasonable men?”

  No quicker transaction was made as they pulled the dead-weight man from the carriage and two of the men each swung a man over his shoulder. The carriage followed at leisurely plodding.

  When the ‘brother-in-law’ was stored like a bag of grain, along with the other human cargo, the press gang leader came for his payment. Before handing it over, Diggs had one final request.

  “What ship you boys sail on,” Diggs asked in a friendly manner, and the gangman blurted quickly, so Blasse knew what was said was the truth. “Headed for the Americas?”

  The impress boss eyed the dangling purse and spoke without thinking.

  “We are in the troop transport fleet that will be following Gentleman Johnny to Halifax.”

  “Well, if that be so, you won’t mind having our relation here send his wife a letter when he arrives? Would not wish to think out of any spite you might just drop him in the River here. I think he will make you a fine topman, though he might do a might yelling at first.”

  “The lash will keep them obeying their officers.”

  “And if we don’t receive such a letter we might just want to talk with you when you’re next in port? Understand?” And in those two threats of meanness, the bag was tossed to the gang leader, and he opened the drawstring. Surprised, he looked up a face of wonder soon stole into one of greed. Blasse knew that the ‘bribe payment’ in had been too much, but who was going to question their good fortune, and Blasse saw the leader slip a coin from the purse into his own pocket before he left to split the proceeds with his partners in crime.

  As Blasse and Diggs rode off, Blasse smiled to his partner in their own crime, one less spy to scurry behind the Marquis’s homeward bound trip, leaving in the coming daylight. “Bien”, he said to Diggs and handed over another purse, a small bonus, for a good night’s work of ridding England of disreputable watchers.

  “Merci,” Diggs said with a laugh. “Tonight, I do think we should take the Black Fryers Bridge home, much closer, and the one penny toll is no bother to gentlemen as we.” And he laughed again and pulled a bottle of gin from his jacket.

  64.

  MY TRUE JOURNEY HAS begun. I cannot fail.

  He eyed the approaching coastline of France and he could make out Calais and the spire of the cathedral. His small ship heaved in the swells and leaned side to side as it heeled into the troughs of waves and soared safely out again and again.

  Gilbert was at the ship’s side heaving out his insides. In his misery, he wondered how he could sustain weeks, if not a month or more of any such weather on the open seas. Thank God, he had not made the sea his profession.

  This voyage was not just a returning trip; indeed he knew his current action was life altering. He had received high marks in Latin and had read portions of Julius Caesar’s Commentarii de Bello Civili and to know his famous quote: alea iacta est (‘the die has been cast’) to cross Italy’s Rubicon River to violate the law of the Imperium, to face a capital offense, but by the fortune of the gods to prevail in the Caesars’ Wars.

  The point of no return for Gilbert was in his weak excuse to his uncle for his departure, vagueness at a commission back home, and to extend his apology, a sickness upon him, for his unavailability to attend another gathering at court in the presence of King George III, requiring the Ambassador to offer a personal excuse for him. More acute he had begun in London a letter to his father-in-law, dated March 9th, that he intended to post along the way. His sea-sickness delayed finishing the missive as did putting on parchment the right reason for his departure from home, relations, daughter and expectant wife.

  These thoughts weighed heavily on him, and he had gone through several drafts of his letter, but none held the right tone. From Calais, he and Blasse, took a hired carriage to the Parisian suburb of Chaillot, to De Kalb’s residence, a house where the Baron rented rooms. Once there, he discovered that his ship in Bordeaux was not yet ready for boarding. His nerves fragile as they were became agitated.

  From the 13th March on, his life in France rushed as a cyclone of events, and his world changed forever. He began his first steps by hiding. He was in the middle of the plot, it was in motion, and he could not go home merely for a few days and carry off a posture of nonchalance. He decided reluctantly not to go to the Noailles house and embrace his wife. His last letter from London held all the warmth and love shown in his feelings for her, and in a way, spoke itself as a final goodbye, the final truth not yet revealed. He now began a departure letter for Adrienne’s eyes.

  There now occurred the meetings in preparation for departure:

  14th March letter, De Kalb to Carmichael.

  “A Chaillot, dans la maison de Mr. Marie, Jardinier de l’Orangereie—a Cote des Cazernes suisses, vis a vis une porte grilles. Demander un Monsieur qu y loge au premier.

  [At Chaillot, at the house of Mr. Marie, Gardener of the Orangerie—next door to the barracks of the Swiss troops. Ask for a gentleman who is lodged on the first floor.] He must not be named.”

  Carmichael came with Deane’s rubber-stamped approval of the final list of French officers embarking. To the complement was added the name of Edward Brice, a young American from Maryland, who had agreed to be Lafayette’s aide-de-camp, but more importantly teach the speaking and writing of English with American colloquialisms and accents. Carmichael originally had sought to ask a Dutchman, Van Zandt, who went by the name of George Lupton to accompanying Gilbert, but the man begged off, which was well and good, since he had Loyalist leanings and sold information, like Bancroft, to the British Secret Service. Lupton did not hear all and was only able to report to his handlers that a noble of high rank was seeking to join the Americans. The news arrived in London before Gilbert’s departure but was too vague to identify the person.

  Next, arriving to the Marquis to cement the final transaction and to receive the front end payment, an amount worth a trip from Bordeaux, was the former La Victorie ship owner, Peter Basmarein of Basemarein, Raimbaux and Co. Basemarein not only was pleased with the cash down payment and the signing of the sale documents but once this nobleman had sailed it was Basemarein’s intention to use Gilbert’s cache of being a high-placed courtier as a marketing tool for making more ship sales to the American insurgents. He was already in discussion with Baumarchais for the French acquisition or lease of his ships and had sent an agent to America to make ship sales to the U.S. Congress and he himself would soon make a call upon the American Commissioners. For others, already the upcoming voyage of the Marquis suggested profitable dividends.

  65.

  THE DAY OF THE 16th March for Gilbert was the most hectic.

  “Segur, wake up, you lazy dolt!”

  Phillipe Segur squeezed open heavy eyelids, exhausted from a long night of debate
at a coffeehouse. He stared at the buoyant smile of his friend, Gilbert de la Fayette.

  “You are a dream more a nightmare. Aren’t you in London?”

  “I have great news to tell you which cannot be held back from my dear friends.”

  “Could it not wait until I have had breakfast?”

  “I am shortly off and can only stay but a moment.”

  Segur sat on his bed, reached for his robe, and ran his hand through his nest of tangled hair.

  “And, pray, what are you so restive and giddy?”

  “I am leaving today for America. To fight with them. And the American Commissioners have given me, which I know the U.S. Congress will approve without delay, the military rank of Major General in their Continental Army.”

  Segur came fully awake, more in shock than pleased for his friend’s good fortune.

  “You have to be joking.”

  “Not at all. I have a signed commission. I leave today for Bordeaux to board a ship with other French officers whom will accompany me.” Gilbert understood telling his friend he had bought his own ship might come across as too boastful. Smugness had its limits.

  Segur still had not digested the full ramifications of Gilbert’s sudden revelation.

  “And so the Duc d’Ayen finally approved you and Noailles going? And what of the King’s edict against French officers going to America?”

  Gilbert tempered his enthusiasm to certain realities.

  “Well, the Duc really hasn’t given a full blessing, and I am positive that the Government will soon rescind their blockade against needed military expertise.”

  “By the Virgin Mother, Gilbert, you do not have any family or War Department support at all, do you? And Noailles is not going, only you? He will be deeply disappointed if not jealous. Recall, how he bragged he was going to be the first Noailles hero of this century?”

  Gilbert in his usual manner of ignoring uncomfortable truths of storms approaching to seek the horizon for only the sunny sky of a bright tomorrow resumed his confidence.

  “Once I am away all will come to see that I have followed my star and what I do will be for the liberty of Americans and the glory of French comrade-in-arms.”

  Segur could only return the smile.

  “Well if ambition well suits any man it is you...mon Major General.” Segur stood and grasped his friend’s hand, and the both laughed. And Gilbert rushed away.

  At the Viacomte de Noailles house, on entry, and greeting his brother-in-law, Gilbert was more circumspect for he remembered his talk with Segur and chose to not reveal too many significant details. He had found a ship, Commissioner Deane gave him a letter to give to Congress for a future ranking, and he would be sailing within the week.

  Marc Noailles with open mouth mumbled something like, “Well, that sounds great Gilbert, but—-.” And he stopped, there were just too many ‘buts’.

  “Wish me well, dear brother. I am going to succeed to bring honor to the de la Fayette and Noailles names.”

  “Certainly, I wish you all the best, especially safe travel. But are you certain this is the proper course. Months back it seemed a great adventure but now, the war over there seems still in doubt for the Americans. The summer season is fast approaching and I hear the British may launch three armies out into the countryside.” Noailles always had the better comprehensive military mind.

  “I don’t know the future but my zeal is in seeing these people gain their liberty.” He bade a farewell, nearly tearful to both men, for who knew if they would ever meet again. Gilbert was gone from the house.

  “Who was that, darling?” asked the Vicomtesse Noailles, approaching her husband.

  “An apparition, clown or errant knight, I know not, but in physical form it is family, your brother-in-law Gilbert, the Marquis de la Fayette, as a whirlwind Achilles.”

  “You make no sense, Marc. Gilbert, it cannot be. Adrienne just the other day received a London letter from him. He was to be there another month.”

  “He has returned, dear. And is leaving this day for Bordeaux and to travel to America to fight against the armies of Great Britain. He called to pay respect to our friendship and say goodbye.”

  The Vicomtesse gasped, her face draining to white.

  “My god, he is abandoning Adrienne. And she nursing a sick child and child expected. Poor Adrienne!” And she began to faint and Marc grabbed her and eased her to the couch and called for her maid to bring smelling salts. She began to cry aloud bemoaning her poor sister.

  The Vicomte de Noailles, though tender to his wife’s anguish, could only think to himself on the news just received: How envious am I of Gilbert? Who would have thought he had such strength, crazy or not, to follow his wild heart?

  A few hours later, early afternoon, two letters were delivered by messenger to the Noailles residence. The author of those letters was just then letting his carriage take him out of Paris, heading down the roadway, Paris to Orleans to Poitiers to Bordeaux, to the seacoast.

  London, March 9, 1777 [Gilbert chose to mislead on the distance from home, but would correct with guilt in a scribbled postscript written from the carriage, not mentioning he had been in the vicinity for the last three days]

  You will be astonished, my dear Papa, by what I am about to tell you; it has been more painful than I can say not to have consulted you. My respect, my affection, and my confidence in you must assure you of that...

  In this opening, it is entirely the opposite of what it seems. For the last year his father-in-law had demeaned him and cast aspersions on his abilities and belittled his true desire for a soldier’s career. It had been a long while, obstinate or proud, that ‘dear papa’ or a ‘dear son’ had been used between them. Gilbert was reminding the Duc d’Ayen of this lapse of affection on the older man’s part and that Gilbert held more caring which the other man failed to notice.

  I have found a unique opportunity to distinguish myself, and to learn my profession. I am a general officer in the army of the United States of America. My zeal for their cause and my sincerity have won their confidence...

  The Duc d’Ayen has had to stop reading. His face turned red, livid. He was aware of the King’s edict to stop French officers traveling to America. He no longer cared of Gilbert’s motives for he was alarmed for himself. He was smitten blind to the marquis’s reasoning and rather sees the self-centered folly of the young man he thought worthy to bear the Noailles standard. By this letter of shock the Duc d’Ayen believes in an instant the whole of the Noailles family’s reputation is at extreme risk with the king, upon whose favor (wealth and prestige) he is dependent.

  A few more self-serving sentences of Gilbert’s sacrifice, a few more words of saying how sorry he is to ‘may’ have hurt his family...but the voyage will be swift and—

  I hope to return more worthy of all who will have the goodness to miss me.

  What a comment which tells it all. If you are going to be part of my life then I shall deserve you when I return famous, covered in glory. He did not say that but tried to write the thought out more eloquently.

  The remaining flowery ending salutations to his family and his seeking his ‘dear papa’s’ affection were totally ignored by the Duc as being baldly disingenuous.

  The Duc d’Ayen’s verbal abuse of his son-in-law sounded with an apoplexy shout throughout the Hôtel de Noailles and all who heard came quickly believing a great calamity had occurred, as in truth a disaster seemed to be in the making.

  In the same moment a second letter was being handed to Adrienne.

  Here his guilt had sincerity as Gilbert realized that with his ‘foolish’ act that she was probably the only one left who believed in him wholly. To buttress his decision he needed her more than ever to be his main supporter, and though only slightly misleading to say his trip would be of a short duration, he meant what he said in his letter of 16 March. Sadly, as future letters would demonstrate, though Gilbert carried on fiercely determined in his direction, surrounded by new compatrio
ts, his optimism from time to time would fight duels against the scourge of loneliness.

  Paris, March 16 To Adrienne de Noailles de Lafayette:

  I am too guilty to vindicate myself, but I have been too cruelly punished not to deserve a pardon. If I had expected to feel my sacrifices, in such a frightful manner, I would not be at present the unhappiest of men. But I have given my word, and I would die rather than go back on it. M. le Duc d’Ayen will explain my foolish acts to you. Do not be angry with me. Believe that I am sorely distressed. I had never realized how much I loved you—but I shall return soon, as soon as my obligations are fulfilled. Good-bye, good-bye, write to me often, every day. Embrace our dear Henriette. And, moreover, you are pregnant, all of which adds to my torment. If you knew how painful this is, you would surely be more sorry for me than you will ever be. To add to my misery, the people, I love are going to believe that I am quite happy to leave. Besides, it is a voyage no longer than that of your father to Italy. I promise you it will be short. Farewell, I have saved this letter for last; I finish my good-byes with you. They are going to take me far away. It is terribly hard for me to tear myself away from here, and I do not have the courage to speak to you longer of a man who loves you with all his heart, and who cruelly reproaches himself for the time he will spend without seeing you.

  Ever since he had stepped back on the soil of France after his cut-short London trip, Gilbert had accepted that his letter writing, his posted mail, could be compromised and stolen and read by spies and his enemies. In such circumstances he likewise understood those letters might reach government ministers even newspapers as he also realized that any of his personal letters to his family and friends would be passed around hand-to-hand or by copies and would reach a larger inquisitive audience. In this phase of his learning, and thereafter, all his communications were for eventual public consumption and more importantly to put him in a favorable light.