by S. P. Grogan
66.
THE LETTER GILBERT Motier de la Fayette sent to the Duc d’Ayen and received on 16 March moved Gilbert’s escapade, as others viewed it, into a public forum, with far-reaching political consequences. One would have to follow a multi-dimensional landscape, or circus balls juggled in mid air, to follow all the machinations by the players involved.
Looking down during this time and moment, say, in a hot air balloon [within five years Joseph Montgolfiére would be experimenting with ballooning near Avignon] the viewer would have to look at the entire perspective: (1) de la Fayette and La Victorie’s attempt to sail away; (2) the French Government’s reaction to Gilbert’s lack of royal obedience and their feigned hand slap; (3) the Americans who promoted the De Broglie – De Kalb – de la Fayette venture but now surprised, for in no way had they sought offense against the French, who they needed more for financial aid than supportive to one young man’s lark adventure; (4) turmoil and responses within the Noailles family, the court and the salons of public opinion; and (5) the British Government through Ambassador Stormont who saw de la Fayette’s indiscretion as actual proof that the French Government cared nothing for neutrality (as both sides knew anyway but hid public denial, gentleman-like, behind diplomatic masks), moving both sides closer to war [a secret, or not so secret, desire of Gilbert’s].
17th March
The Duc d’Ayen wasted no time and called upon Minister of State Jean-Frederic Phelypeaux, comte de Maurepas.
Visibly upset he spelled out what had occurred in a fast-breathing tirade.“Something must be done. He has a pregnant wife. Responsibilities. He is a military officer, a duty to his regiment. He is throwing away his future.”
Minister Maurepas let the Duc rant on for awhile. He looked over in a corner where sub Minister, Prince Marbarrey stood silent but with an expression on his face, saying, ‘Didn’t I warn you this might happen?’
“Duc d’Ayen, it is quite unfortunate. Certainly the Marquis has gone against the wishes of the King.” That observation of offending his king, settled the Duc to quiet fuming, but he continued his stomping around Maurepas’s ornate office.
Maurepas, whose portfolio also included War, could act to the Duc’s angered request for immediate government interference into the boy’s plans to go to sea to America. At this is the moment was broadening his private thoughts on what this incident might mean to his maneuverings. Most of all, he wanted to tamp down the war hawk mood of Foreign Affairs Minister Vergennes. The country was not ready for war and as much as Vergennes pushed for detante and commerce treaties with the Americans, the importance of the neutrality with the British had greater importance. Under Maurepas guidance King Louis XVI had started a quiet purchase of German forest trees for ship masts and building program was ready to start but finished warships were a long way from being launched. He could not offend a great house of France like the Noailles, he could not now offend Great Britain too openly. He must juggle.
“Duc, I will seek to recall your misguided son. Will that suit your purposes?”
“Quite, yes.”
“Did you not tell me that this poor episode had interfered with your plans to take your wife and relatives on a Grand Tour of Italy?”
The Duc hesitated in some confusion.
“Well, yes. I can’t make any trips without having the marquis back with his wife.” He did not say, ‘Back under my tight grasp’.
“Well, instead of bringing the boy back to shame and ridicule at the court, why not let’s send letters to him, less forceful, telling him to join you in, say, Marseilles. All is forgiven. We succeed by just unraveling these unfortunate circumstances. You draft your letter to him. I will do one from my office with a few teeth to snap him back to what is best for him and his family.”
The Duc heard and felt that was as good a solution as any, and agreed, and soon thereafter with further assurances, left to go home to console his distraught wife, and his silent daughter.
Marrbarrey asked of his boss.
“I felt de la Fayette held strong emotions for the American rebels, and I thought he might go some day, but so soon. I almost feel offended.”
“Do not take it personal. It seems the boy fooled us all with his real intent. Certainly Vergennes had given his blessing for Baron De Kalb to quietly sail away. But he, you, or I were not privy to the information that the wealthiest youngster in France was part of De Broglie’s plans. Does make me wonder if Police Chief Lenoir has the best paid sources to glean news before it happens.”
“What will you do with the Duc D’Ayen’s request? One must assist the Noailles-Mouchy clan to retrieve their wayward soldier.”
“I must tell the King in the most delicate manner and have a solution ready upon his response, which I know quite well will be.”
“The Marquis de la Fayette gone to fight with the American rebels?” said the King of France, dismayed and shocked. “Impossible. Not him.”
“I am afraid so your majesty. And the American Commissioners even appointed him a Major General.”
“How can that be? I recall the Vicomte de Noailles mentioning that the Marquis is but a captain—and on reserve—from the Noailles Regiment. Why didn’t Vergennes do something about holding a tight rein on these American Commissioners? And what will the British say: that one of the Queen’s social set has gone off to be, what again, a Major General. I do not like this one bit.”
“My sentiments exactly, sire. I thought we might put out a stronger proclamation to your previous edict, to be issued immediately requiring no more French officers to take leave and go to America, and make special mention of the Marquis, asking them all to return to their regiments.”
“Yes, that would be excellent.”
“Further, sire, I think we might consider a ‘cachet——‘.
“Put out an arrest warrant on a noble from my court?”
“Not directly, sire, but if the new proclamation shows little result I think the allusion that a cachet de lettre might be forthcoming, and that most certainly would have our little pup yelping back home. The Marquis de La Fayette is, and the Duc d’Ayen made the point to me, a most loyal subject of your Majesty.”
“I see. Yes, do what you think best. Say, mentioning ‘pups’, did you see the new litter of my hunting setters, the bitch at the kennels is of good breed. If there is a runt, would you like it? I will have the Master of the Hunt train one for you.”
“You are most gracious, your majesty.”
By the end of the day Foreign Minister Vergennes had heard of the Marquis’s flight. As to all, this was unexpected. He knew of De Kalb seeking a way to go to America to further De Broglie’s scheme. Of that he had supported, indiscreetly. But now, a wealthy brat of the Noailles family had decided to join De Broglie’s cadre and go off and play at war.
The Foreign Minister quickly viewed his options. There is no cause to be perplexed. This was not any sort of major crises of state. He was upset in a mild fashion for the Marquis’s foolish audacity flew in the face of France’s public position of neutrality, and suggested by involvement in so prominent a member of France’s inner circle that France’s government was complicit if not in open support of the Americans. That would not do. But as of yet he had heard no complaint from Lord Stormont, who would be usually on his doorstep in the minute after such an infraction occurred. Vergennes smiled to one minor victory. The British spies had also failed to uncover the Marquis’s plans, so that bought his office time to formulate a response.
67.
18th March
Adrienne remained in her room the last two days. The family was worried. Her Mother distraught at what her daughter must be feeling and gave her time alone to find solace and peace. Truth be told, Adrienne just could not endure listening to all the malicious comments made to her about Gilbert’s insensitive conduct. She did not see it that way.
I am in grief but not for anything ill he has done. Except as sudden surprise he did nothing I should not see as a fault. I knew t
his day was coming. It has just arrived too early. He wished to be a soldier and if I am to be a soldier’s wife I must bear many long separations. I am in pain because I shall worry about his safety. I love him so and he loves me. Those feelings must give us an enduring strength.
Adrienne re-read his last letter from London to her, the closing more consciously:
Farewell, dear heart, a thousand regrets to Mme d’Ayen, a thousand affectionate greetings to the vicomtesse, and to my sisters. I am always distressed when I leave you, even in writing, and it is my cruel star that keeps me moving constantly and which I must blame when I do not see you even a sixth part of the time that I would truly like to see you. But you know my heart, or at least its sincerity, and you will believe me, I trust, always, when I assure you that it loves your forever, with the strongest and most tender affection.
Kiss our dear Henriette twenty times for me.
Who could doubt the heart of such a man was only filled with goodness? Who could not understand that with such love he could not stand before her and tell her he was leaving, for he would have broken, and not left her, and not fulfilled his destiny. At seventeen years old, and though sheltered most of her life, she could draw herself and Gilbert into the models of great tragedian figures who made sacrifices for holy causes. Her mind was fixed, not that he left her, but that God had chosen him for a greater purpose. Such was the religious fervor her mother had woven into the fabric of her personality. Where others did not see, Adrienne was totally aware when he wrote: my cruel star that keeps me moving constantly. He had warned her of what was coming. She let a few tears drop upon the parchment.
A quiet knock to her door, and it eased open, and her mother looked in, smiled, and entered.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Much better, thank you, mere. How is Henriette?” The nurse had taken charge since that letter had arrived.
“A small cough, but moves, and waddles the nursery like a small gosling.”
Adrienne gave a weak smile. Henriette would never be a burden but her short illnesses, coughs and chills, came irregularly and gave Adrienne worry. Motherhood was not such a blessed constancy and she worried that she might not be up to the task.
The Duchess d’Ayen looked to her daughter and saw sadness and like others had misconstrued in interpretation.
“Your father sits in his study and writes a letter to Gilbert demanding his return, for the good of the family. He asks me to bid you to write also to Gilbert begging for his return.”
Adrienne held her husband’s letters in her hands, looked at them, and put them aside.
“I will write to him but it shall be nothing my father wishes. I cannot. I will write to Gilbert to have strength to make the right decision, and know that I love him.”
“But we must have him back,” said the Duchess, “for your sake.”
“No, mother. I am consoled. I have him in my thoughts. He has acted worthy of a de la Fayette, or even Rivere, something I believe few others would have done. I will not write to prevent him disobeying his conscious. He will be in my daily prayers and evening vespers at chapel.”
Her mother saw something new in Adrienne. Something perhaps occasioned by motherhood.
“Well, you are no longer a child and must make up your own mind.”
“And so is Gilbert, grown into manhood. But I feel Father sees him more as bothersome ward, and perhaps treats him more harshly, for he is not the lost son.”
Adrienne’s words stung. Truth does that some time. The Duchess d’Ayn felt the renewed hurt of having lost their only male child and the hidden bitterness the Duc kept within, when surrounded by a bevy of daughters. She had seen the odd, even cruel, treatment to Gilbert by her husband, not brutal, yet cruel by just ignoring the boy. No, Adrienne was right. Gilbert was an adult but not treated as such. He has struck out to all to make that claim. He will no longer be overlooked. She swallowed distant pained memories and looked to the living happy ones, or to be happy, if possible.
“Perhaps you can write your letter, as you see fit, and seal it first. No one will be the wiser to what you choose to say to your husband.”
They both smiled at the little conspiracy between them.
“I am praying for Gilbert’s welfare,” said Adrienne. “But can’t we do more? If he is going off to war and in a far distant land, instead of condemning him, as everyone seems to be doing, please, we should give him all our aid. What clothes did he take? Is Blasse with him? Who else? Will he need money? He is not of age. Where shall he gain his resources? I am so worried for him.”
The Duchess accepted a wife’s worry for her husband, and her mind shifted from what she had entered the bedroom to do, berate the husband for his hurt to his wife, her daughter, but she did not see such. Adrienne sought to act as the strong wife with an absent husband. Her mother could appreciate that trait in her daughter. Loyalty.
“I agree, your concern is warranted. We must look at what we can do, not what rumor says might be happening. Give me some time and I shall work upon your Father. He needs to see if he cannot sway Gilbert to return then he must lead the family to support one of their own.”
“Gilbert is one of his own that is what has occurred and Father needs to see that. But please, mother, let’s help Gilbert in whatever endeavor he is now choosing.”
With that, the two women embraced and tears flowed freely, and they talked about the past times, and made fun, in good jest, at the little quirks of Gilbert’s character that made him so charming.
68.
20th March Bordeaux
The last three days Gilbert and Baron de Kalb had spent in close quarters making the journey towards the port, the ship, and the sea journey. Within that time they had forged a strong bond of friendship, something Gilbert always eagerly sought after among acquaintances. They talked of what they would do when they arrived and the American Congress endorsed their commissions. The Baron talked of his previous experience in war time conditions. Gilbert could only tell jovial tales of the court and shenanigans he and his court fellows had contrived. The Baron asked about the Queen, what was she like, and Gilbert sang her high praises, overlooking the times she and her ladies had laughed at him for clumsy missteps, at dancing, and at his amateurish sloppiness at seeking to gain a ‘lady friend’.
The cordiality between both men cooled upon their arrival. In his excitement at all his plans, recounting his escape from London, from Paris, from his father-in-law, he inadvertently let it slip that—.
“You don’t have Duc d’Ayen’s permission to leave the country and fight for the Americans?” The Baron’s voice in its guttural German accent which massacred the lilting French vocabulary, was now in startled amazement.
“I did not think it mattered, if only slightly. And once he saw my firmness would come around to my position.”
“If you do not have the Duc’s support, then certainly the King is unaware of your action?”
Gilbert had not seen it that way. He thought his actions would only matter in such a small circle and not be a bother to anyone outside his family, of which he written them letters of confession and asked forgiveness based on ‘duty’ to be served.
The Baron did not see it that way. The Duc d’Ayen, was not only Gilbert’s father-in-law, but of such high ranking, that whatever he might say would hold strong weight. And if he opposed Gilbert’s current plans to sail and to fight, then this trip was not only doomed, it would run afoul of the French Government itself, something De Kalb, but more certainly De Broglie did not wish happening.
This opinion he stressed strongly to Gilbert and worked on him the rest of the day the Baron so that by afternoon Gilbert really did start to worry on what others—and in authority—were thinking and agreed to send a fast courier to find out what was the present mood of the those in Paris about his plans. Finally, under mild guilt that perhaps he had overstepped himself but only a little, Gilbert agreed to write to one of his friends, Vicomte de Cogny. He requested, �
��Just inquire and give me your honest opinion what was the climate like in Paris?” To himself he really wondered for the first time: Did anyone care, like as in the past, on what I was going to do?
La Victorie was not in readiness. Preparation towards the journey had proceeded at the pace of a snail because no one was really in charge. Not all French officers had arrived. Now, with the ship owner – La Fayette—on the scene and De Kalb (with Gilbert) as the ranking military officer present, orders were given harshly to move things along towards the sails unfolded and the anchor raised. Gilbert felt instead of dawdling, and a fear now forced upon him that all was not right in Paris, he pushed his captain who in turn yelled at the crew. They must depart as soon as possible.
22nd March
The Baron de Kalb had signed the port’s Act of Embarkation on the 21st and Gilbert, under a false alias signed on the 22nd. Said the document in part:
I attest that Sieur Gilbert du Moitie, Chevalier de Chavaillac, age 20, tall, blond hair [several other officers and servants are listed]...are Catholics of long standing who desire to embark on La Victoire, Captain Lebourcier, to go to Le Cap, on business. [Signed] Gilbert Du Motier
All fiction for they were departing like fugitives, as by the King’s edict they were. Gilbert used family name of Motier and his chateaux at Chavaniac in place of his own; he was nineteen years not twenty and had red hair. De Kalb was Protestant not Catholic. And Le Cap meant on Santo Domingo in the French Antilles. It was Gilbert’s plan, no one knew this now, to sail directly to America. The Captain may not agree but Gilbert thought, with coin, he could persuade otherwise.
23rd March
De Kalb now thought of a promise Commissioner Deane had elicited from him, a covering letter from the Marquis, disavowing Deane’s involvement in the decision Gilbert finally had made to depart. De Kalb thought this wise also to give De Broglie such a letter from the Marquis feigning De Broglie’s innocence on any encouragement given to the Marquis. So, Gilbert under De Kalb’s pressured guidance wrote to Comte de Broglie, in part: