Lafayette_Courtier to Crown Fugitive, 1757-1777

by S. P. Grogan

  Half undressed, fraught with tension, Gilbert tried to act nonplussed to his being discovered.

  “I don’t know if there is time enough for any dalliance? I do not know when my guards will become my pursuers. Besides, I have this shyness about me that makes a public stable an intolerable boudoir.” He smiled nervously and kept dressing into what was hard-used riding clothes, a disguise as a post rider.

  She enjoyed his discomfort, admired his thin physique, his white legs and chest, very citified, a treat, and sought to worry him more.

  “There is a small room, a tack room, to the back of the stable, with a lock and a cot. I have never been one for lengthy introductions.”

  “But I may have less than an hour, and I do wish to post a letter to my father begging understanding for my second act of disobedience.”

  “I have needed no more than half an hour, even less, for the village lads.”

  Close to one hour elapsed before the other carriage arrived just outside St. Jean-de-Luz, This new hired carriage was driven by Gilbert’s other servant, his groom Moteau, and an extra horse following, tied behind the carriage. Inside, riding uncomfortably was Viscount de Mauroy with a hangover, and concerned if all would go right. At this point, with a green face, his countenance brightened when he saw the Marquis at the side of the road, smiling, as if he had no care in the world, as if a thieving boy who had just eaten a whole tart pie snatched from the baker’s stall. The Marquis looked totally amused, thought Mauroy, as if this plan, which was quite serious, was merely a picnic in the countryside.

  The carriage turned around and with quick pace left St. Jean-de-Luz heading south, towards San Sebastian. Gilbert rode the spare horse. It was part of Plan C, if required, that if their pursuers unraveled their current road taken that Mauroy and the carriage would go one way as a decoy and Gilbert would race with all speed to his ship and a final escape.

  Four hours on the way to Marseille, Captain Barras was surprised when La Fayette’s carriage traveled right past the next way station and kept on going. That was strange. Certainly the troublesome Marquis’s bouncing slumber was long over and he would wish to stretch his legs, and rest the horses. He brought his horse beside the carriage.

  “Monsieur Gilbert,” shouted Captain Barras. He held no respect for titles. He would obey orders and if a beating to a nobleman happened along the road, and closer to Marseille, so be it.

  There came no surly reply. He pounded on the carriage. No response. He leaned from his horse, and opened the door. The carriage was empty. At the moment, Blasse-Camus seeing the ruse unmasked, whipped the tired horses, to make fast as best they could. The horses pounded past the front out-riders, who looked back to their commander in confusion.

  Captain Barras was mad beyond reason. He pulled up his horse. When all four out riders had assembled, he gave orders. “You two follow and capture the carriage and driver and beat out of him where the Marquis is hiding. I and the lieutenant will head back along the road, to the start if necessary. I do not believe he jumped from this carriage on some twist in the road. We will have him by nightfall.”

  The Captain, as he spurred his horse back along the roadway, looking side to side, for other tricks, he swore a vengeance upon the nobleman.

  The two horsemen, the police, strangers that they were, which no villager felt an ease with, could find no answer as they back tracked to their first stop at St. Jean-de-Luz. They began to question the villagers. Finally, when they were at wit’s end and Captain Barras felt like flat sabering one or two villagers, it was the tavern owner’s daughter, who said she did see a horseman at the edge of the village, riding with another horse, and that gentleman from the carriage jumped on it and they took off.

  “Which direction?” growled Captain Barras.

  “By the Paris road,” she replied, innocently.

  That seemed reasonable, thought Barras, Gilbert was always soft. He would run back to his easy life and comfort. Captain Barras and his lieutenant would have to run their horses near death to catch the fugitive. And they were off, with the barmaid’s voice the last they heard.

  “Why are you after him? He was such a charming boy.”

  72.

  17 APRIL

  On the 15th, DeKalb had written a bitter letter to his wife, complaining of all that had transpired against the Marquis, and he was now merely awaiting Lafayette’s word from Marseille to sell the ship, and for everyone to return home. Perhaps he should go to DeBroglie and re-establish a new plan. Today, he picked up his pen to let Deane and De Broglie know that he would be returning shortly.

  He heard one yell, long and loud, then a chorus of shouts and cheers. He went on deck to discover the commotion.

  From the ship, crew and passengers were pointing at two men on the beach, they jumping up and down and waving, in excitement and laughing themselves.

  La Fayette! He had returned. But who was that with him, not a servant. Grabbing the captain’s spyglass for closer inspection: Du Mauroy. What was the Viscount doing here?

  When the ship’s skiff oared into shore and fetched back the two men and Lafayette’s other servant, Moteau. Soon the Marquis scampered up the side of the ship, like a monkey, thought De Kalb. A happy monkey.

  Gilbert embraced the Baron, smiled with all his teeth, and said aloud, so all could here: “I am going to America as soon as possible!”

  ON BOARD THE SHIP La Victoire:

  One of his final letters to Silas Deane from The Baron de Kalb, in part:

  Sir:

  I had the honor of writing to you four days ago in a sad mood of mind, about all the difficulties which seemed to obstruct M. Le Marquis de la Fayette’s generous designs; as I made you a partaker of bad news, I think it a piece of justice to impart to you a good one. The Marquis guessing, by all the letters he received, that the Ministers granted and issued orders to stop his sailing, out of mere compliance with the requests of M. Le Duc d’Ayens, and that in reality neither the King nor any body else could be angry with him, for so noble an Enterprizs, he took upon him to come here gain and to pursue his measures. He arrived this morning nine of the clock to the great comfort of all his fellow Passengers. M. de Mauroy arrived at the sametime. So we shall put out to sea again by the first wind...”

  18 April, aboard ship at San Sebastian

  Softening his great excitement to begin the adventure, he mellowed in some worry of what had befallen Blasse now Camus. Did he make a good getaway? The police dragoons could easily overtake the carriage if they realized no one was aboard except a servant. That vexed him. Blasse-Camus had served him well these last five years, even saved his life once or twice, thrice, once from highwaymen, then a mob and knife-slashing street cutpurses, and protected him from spies, and not wise to ask questions in that matter on what happened in London. The man was intimidating but completely loyal to his person. He was left with Moteau, a Noailles family retainer, the complete opposite in temperament, but a good enough fellow as a groom who now must add the chores of his master’s toilette and dressing. But Gilbert knew Blasse-Camus would be a hard man to replace when he got to America. I will miss his churlish behavior.

  The wind for their sailing had not picked up so they maneuvered their way back to San Sabastian to take on additional supplies that the ship’s Captain could put into extra space, though all the quarters would be cramped with crew and passengers in the manifest. At San Sebastian, De Mauroy and the Baron went ashore to buy additional muskets. They had heard of the capture of the ship with three French officers (vis-à-vis Vergennes to De Broglie to Mauroy) and they sought such purchase of additional weaponry more to demonstrate their preparedness to show mock support for de la Fayette’s call to ‘fight to the death’ if they faced a British warship. All military men aboard the ship knew the gentleman way of surrender when out-matched. Fighting to the death seemed appropriate only for the Marquis’s vision of glory.

  19 April on board La Victoire at San Sebastian

  Gilbert addressed his last
letter to Adrienne before sailing, in part:

  Ah dear heart, they thought that fear would have more effect upon me than love. They have misunderstand me, and since they tear me away from you, since they compel me not to see you for a year, and since they wish only to humble my pride, without affecting my love, at least that cruel absence will be employed in a manner that is worthy of me. The only notion that could detain me was the sweet consolation of embracing you, of being restored to you and to all the people I love. Giving these reasons, I asked for a fortnight, only a fortnight to be with you, at St. Germain, or wherever they wished. My request was refused. I refuse also, and, having to choose between the slavery that everyone believes he [Duc D’Ayen] has the right to impose upon me, and liberty, which called me to glory, I departed...

  ...Farewell. Once again do not doubt the sentiment that I feel more than ever at this cruel moment. Nothing, not even adversity, seems to compare with the anguish of leaving you.

  L.

  20-21st April

  With supplies and cargo stored, all baggage aboard, the ship moved back to The Passages on the 21st, on the excuse of final preparation before next day sailing, but in truth, to keep any sailors from deserting at the last minute. A ship at sea a month, even two, could grate hard on a lethargic or mean-spirited seaman.

  On the morning the 21st, the crew moved to weigh anchor and get underway, the wind seemed to have a strong steady current, when once again a shout was heard from shore. All looked. Gilbert spotted the physique instantly, and shouted, “It’s Blasse”—and corrected himself, “My servant Camus!”

  Rider and horse separated, and Camus ran to a fisherman on shore, seeming to give him a coin, and the man, not so eagerly but reluctantly, pushed his fishing boat into the surf and both pushed over the first crest of waves and then both jumped in, and the boat owner began the process of rowing with slow comfort toward La Victoire.

  In that instant two other riders came rushing to the rocky beach, and dismounted. One pulled out a pistol, cocked and fired. No hit was seen. Gilbert winced and watched in horror as he a soldier could do nothing. The second man pulled out a short rifle and likewise fired but there was no effect, except that the rower now afeared leaned more heavily into pulling. The two men on the beach were certainly giving off a fine form of curses, not distinct at that distance.

  In three minutes, the boat was against La Victoire and sailors went against the side to pull up Monsieur Camus, who seemed to be favoring one arm over the other.

  “Why, your face is a bloody mess,” remarked Gilbert in a quick study of his man. “And your shoulder...” He noticed the shirt was not torn open, merely a wide cut.

  “A short blade stroke, sire, not too deep.”

  “Where’s our surgeon,” Gilbert yelled out, and Moreau, Gilbert’s groom, ran for the doctor. He turned back to Camus, now sitting on the deck, trying to catch his breath.

  “What happened?”

  “His first two men caught me but severely regretted it. Your friend, Captain Barras caught up to me near San Sebastian, and we had a fine disagreement. And as you can see, and I am surprised, he and one other still held strength enough to see me off.”

  “Well, this is a long journey, you will be on your feet soon enough.”

  “A new adventure for you, mon general?”

  “Certainly, that is all I have sought my entire life.” Yes, Gilbert had accepted his quest for glory as his base grounding, though as he looked at the shoreline he wavered and blunt reality crept momentarily into his spirits. He had lied with misdirection to be at this point in his life. He had sacrificed home and comfort for the unknown reward. By his latest actions, and turning back was no longer an option, his father-in-law would certainly deprive him of any family succor. Would he ever see Adrienne again? His king had all justification to cast him in a dungeon as disobedient to royal prerogatives. A formal arrest warrant would now almost certainly be close upon his heels. Would General Washington and the American Congress, by direction of their only ally, ignobly cast him in chains and send him back to France in disgrace. All such thinking would have brought low many others but Gilbert de la Fayette set aside such trepidations and strengthened himself: I may be a fugitive against my King, but there is a destiny of great worth before me—in America. This was all he had left to sustain himself against what might lie over the horizon. Would it be enough? Cur non?

  The Marquis Gilbert du Motier de la Fayette rose as the ship’s surgeon arrived to take care of Blasse’s wounds. He turned to the captain, his captain, and with renewed confidence exclaimed as regal as one might expect at this propitious moment, “Captain, you may get underway.”

  And this day, La Victoire sailed away from the safety of a Spanish cove in the Bay of Biscay, and out into the British-controlled unforgiving ocean, towards an embattled New World.

  Within the hour, Gilbert was throwing up over the ship’s side in great distress.

  Finis

  Let not ambition take possession of you;

  love the friends of the people,

  but reserve blind submission for the law and enthusiasm for liberty.

  — Marquis de Lafayette

  La Victoire

  Epilogue

  1 AUGUST 1777 HEAD Quarters, Wilmington

  “Not another one! Did we not just the other day send a Monsieur Portail of the Engineers to Philadelphia to be transferred to General Gates? I certainly can’t see the need of anymore.”

  “I believe, sir, you and Tilghman wrote that letter on the 29th. I am afraid you may have to deal with a new batch, nearly a full squad. They arrived a week ago to make application to Congress to honor their commissions.”

  “By Heavens, more of Deane’s handiwork I presume. Most so far are incompetents, hardly skilled to the ranks they have demanded. No, this time I will be firm: No more French officers! We are well past our quota of false do-gooders.”

  “Another letter to Congress, sir?”

  “It would hardly be worth the ink. Congress is as tired of their applications as I am. This time perhaps they will all be sent back en masse.”

  The General turned back to his correspondence.

  “Well, Hamilton, let’s find subjects to write upon that more surely will advance our cause. And let us proceed rapidly. With the British Fleet off the horizon ready to surprise us with their landfall, we will have to break camp quickly and march, whichever direction.”

  “Yes sir,” said young Alexander Hamilton, Lieutenant-Colonel, aide-de-camp to General George Washington.

  CORRESPONDENCE AS TO the subject of French Officers in the Continental Army:

  20th February 1777 Head Quarters Morris town New Jersey

  To John Hancock, President of Congress

  Sir,

  ...I have often mentioned to you the distress I am every now and then laid under by the Application of French Officers for Commissions in our Service, this evil, if I may call it so, is a growing one, for from what I learn, they are coming in swarms from old France and the Islands. There will therefore be a necessity of providing for them or discountenancing them, to do the first is difficult, and the last disagreeable and perhaps impolitic, if they are Men of Merit. And it is impossible to distinguish those from mere Adventurers, of whom, I am convinced, there are the greatest Number. They seldom bring more than a Commission and passport, which we know may belong to a bad as well as a good Officer.

  Their ignorance of our language, and their inability to recruit Men, are unsurmountable Obstacles to their being ingrafted into our continental Battalions, for our Officers, who have raised their Men, and have served thro’ the War, upon pay, that has hitherto not borne their Expences, would be disgusted if Foreigners were put over their heads, and I assure you few or none of these Gentlemen look lower than Feild Officers Commissions. To give them all Brevets, by which they have Rank and draw pay without doing any Service, is saddling the Continent with a vast Expence, and to form them into Corps, would be only establishing Corps of
Officers, for as I said before, they cannot possibly raise any Men.

  Some general Mode of disposing of them must be adopted, for it is ungenerous to keep them in suspence and at great Charge to themselves. But I am at a loss how to point out this Mode.

  Suppose they were told, in general, that no Man could obtain a Commission, except he could raise a Number of Men in proportion to his Rank; This would effectually stop the Mouths of common Applyers, and would leave us at liberty to make provision for Gentlemen of undoubted military Character and Merit, who would be very usefull to us as soon as they acquired our Language.

  If you approve of this, or can think of any better Method, be pleased to inform me, as soon as you possibly can, for if I had a decisive answer to give them, it would not only save me much trouble, but much time, which I am now obliged to bestow in hearing their different pretensions to merit, and their expectations thereupon...

  Go: Washington

  May 17th 1777 Morris Town, New Jersey

  To Richard Henry Lee, Member of Congress from Virginia

  Dear Sir,

  Under the previledge of friendship, I take the liberty to ask you, what Congress expects I am to do with the many Foreigners they have, at different times, promoted to the Rank of Field Officers? And by the last resolve, two to that of Colonels.

  In making these appointments, it is much to be feared that all the Circumstances attending; are not taken into consideration—To oblige the adventurers of a Nation whom we want to Interest in our Cause, may be one inducement, & to get rid of their importunity, another—but this is viewing the matter by halves, or on one side only—These Men have no attachment or tyes to the Country, further than Interest binds them—they have no Influence—and are ignorant of the language they are to receive & give orders in, consequently great trouble, or much confusion must follow: but this is not the worst, they have not the smallest chance to recruit others, and our Officers thinks it exceedingly hard, after they have toild in this Service, & probably sustaind many losses to have Strangers put over them, whose merit perhaps is not equal to their own; but whose effrontery will take no denial.