The Boys Life of Lafayette 5

The Boys Life of Lafayette 5

Adrienne's family, wishing to do their best by him, tried to secure a

place for him in the household of the prince who afterward became Louis

XVIII. Lafayette did not want to hurt their feelings; neither did he

fancy himself in the rôle they had chosen for him, where he believed

he would be forced to govern his actions by another man's opinions. He

kept his own counsel,but, "in order to save his independence," managed

to have the prince overhear a remark which he made with the deliberate

purpose of angering him. The office was of course given to some one

else, and another bit of ill will went to swell the breezes blowing

over the terraces at Versailles.

 

There were bitter court factions. Friends of Louis XV had not relished

seeing power slip out of their hands. The queen was an Austrian who

never fully understood nor sympathized with the French. Neither her

critics nor her partizans ever allowed themselves to forget her foreign

birth. King Louis, not having confidence in himself, chose for his

premier M. de Maurepas, who was over eighty, and should therefore have

been a mine of wisdom and experience. Unfortunately, he was the wrong

[Pg 31]man; he was not universally respected, and his white hairs

crowned a pate that was not proof against the frivolities of society.

The younger men were displeased. It was not customary to give young

men positions of importance, but they were sure they could do quite as

well as he. They had their café club also, a place called the Wooden

Sword, where they discussed the most extravagant theories of new

philosophy, reviled old customs, calling them "Gothic," their favorite

term of reproach, and concocted schemes to amuse themselves and tease

their elders. Having nothing serious to occupy them, they turned their

attention to setting new fashions. A series of pageants and dances gave

them excellent opportunity. The admiration they felt for themselves and

one another in the romantic dress of the time of Henri IV made them

resolve to adopt it and force it upon others for daily wear. That the

capes and plumes and love-knots which became their slender figures so

well made older and stouter men look ridiculous was perhaps part of

their malicious intent.

 

Age made common cause against them, and the youngsters went too far

when they held a mock session of Parliament, one of those grave

assemblages which had taken place in far-off days in France, but had

been almost forgotten since. There was an increasing demand that the

custom be revived, which was not relished by M. de Maurepas and his

kind. When the old premier learned that a prince of the blood had

played the role of President in this travesty, while Lafayette had

been attorney-general and other sprigs of high family figured as [Pg

32]counsel, barristers, and advocates, it was evident that a storm was

brewing. De Ségur went straight to the king and told him the story in

a way that made him laugh. This saved the participants from serious

consequences, but it was agreed that such trifling must stop; and most

of them were packed off to join their regiments.

 

Lafayette's regiment was stationed at Metz, and he took his way there

feeling much as he had felt when he wrote his school-boy essay on the

"perfect steed." It was the most fortunate journey of his life, for at

the end of it he met his great opportunity. The Duke of Gloucester,

brother of the King of England, was traveling abroad. He came to

Metz, and the military commander of the place, Comte de Broglie, gave

a dinner in his honor to which he invited the chief officers of the

garrison. It was not the only time that a dinner played an important

part in Lafayette's career. Neither Lafayette's age nor his military

rank quite entitled him to such an invitation; but the count had a

kindly spot in his heart for young men. Besides, Adrienne Lafayette was

a kinswoman of his, and he remembered that the father of this tall,

silent lad had served under him in the Seven Years' War.

 

The guest of honor was not the kind of loyal subject and brother who

could speak no ill of his sovereign. In fact, he and King George

were not on good terms. He had his own views about the troubles in

America, and thought the king quite wrong in his attitude toward the

Colonists. He had lately received letters, and at this dinner discussed

[Pg 33]them with the utmost frankness, explaining the point of view

of the "insurgents" and expressing his belief that they would give

England serious trouble. Possibly Lafayette had never heard of George

Washington until that moment. Certainly he had never considered the

continent of North America except as a vague and distant part of the

earth's surface with which he could have no personal concern. Yet twice

already the names of his family and of America had been linked. The old

marshal who took _Cur non?_ for his motto had lived when the voyage of

Columbus had set the world ringing; and Gilbert de Motier, Lafayette's

own father, had lost his life in the Seven Years' War, by which England

won from France practically all the land she held in the New World.

 

Slight and remote as these connections were, who can say that they

did not unconsciously influence a spirit inclined toward liberty? The

conversation of the Duke of Gloucester seemed to bring America from

a great distance to within actual reach of Lafayette's hand. He hung

upon every word. The prince may not have been altogether prudent in

his remarks. It was an after-dinner conversation and in that day the

English drank hard. Even so, the duke's indiscretions made the talk

more interesting and, to Lafayette, more convincing. Every word spoken

strengthened the belief that these American Colonists were brave men,

well within their rights, fighting for a principle which would make

the world better and happier. He realized with a thrill that men three

[Pg 34]thousand miles away were not content with mere words, but

were risking their lives at that very moment for the theories which

philosophers had been preaching for a thousand years; the same theories

that orators in six hundred Paris cafés had lately begun to declaim.

 

Afterward he got permission to ask some of the questions with which

his brain teemed; but long before the candles of that feast had burned

down in their sockets his great resolution was made to "go to America

and offer his services to a people struggling to be free." From that

time on he could think of little else; but, as so often happens with

quick and generous resolutions, the more he thought about it the more

difficult it seemed to carry out. He had exulted at first that he

was his own master with a fortune to dispose of as he chose. Then he

remembered his wife and her family. He knew he could count upon her

loyalty; but he was equally certain that he would meet determined

opposition from the Duc d'Ayen and all his powerful connection, who had

done their worldly best to make him a member of a prince's household.

 

And disapproval of "the family" in France was not to be lightly

regarded. No serious step could be undertaken by young people without

their elders feeling it their solemn duty to give advice. Very likely

the king and his ministers would also have something to say. "However,"

he wrote in his _Memoirs_, "I had confidence in myself, and dared adopt

as device for my coat of arms the words _Cur non?_ that they might

serve me on occasion for encouragement, or by way of answer."

 

[Pg 35]He knew almost nothing about America, and, as soon as military

duties permitted, asked leave to go to Paris to make further inquiries,

opening his heart very frankly to the Comte de Broglie. It happened

that the count had vivid dreams of his own about America--dreams

which centered on nothing less than the hope that with proper hints

and encouragement the rebellious colonies might call him (the Comte

de Broglie, of wide military experience) to take supreme command of

their armies and lead them to victory, instead of trusting them to

the doubtful guidance of local talent in the person of this obscure

Col. George Washington. But De Broglie was not minded to confide such

things to the red-haired stripling who looked at him so pleadingly. He

conscientiously tried to dissuade him. "My boy," he said, "I saw your

uncle die in the Italian wars. I witnessed your father's death.... I

will not be accessory to the ruin of the only remaining branch of your

family." But finding arguments made no impression, he gave him the

coveted permission and also an introduction to a middle-aged Bavarian

officer known as the Baron de Kalb. This man had made a voyage to

America in the secret employment of the French government some years

before, and he was even now acting as De Broglie's agent.

 

Arrived in Paris, Lafayette found the town full of enthusiasm for the

insurgents, or the Bostonians, as they were called. Already English

whist had been abandoned for another game of cards known as _le

Boston_, and soon the authorities might feel it necessary to forbid

[Pg 36]the wearing of a certain style of head-dress called "_aux

insurgents_" and to prohibit talk about American rebels in the cafés.

Secretly the ministers of Louis wished the audacious rebels well,

being convinced that whatever vexed England served to advance the

interests of France, but officially they were strictly neutral. When

Lord Stormont, the British ambassador, complained that agents of the

American government were shipping supplies from French ports, they

made a great show of activity, asked American vessels to leave, and

forbade trade in contraband articles; but they obligingly shut their

eyes to the presence of Silas Deane, the American envoy, in Paris.

Diplomatically speaking, he did not exist, since Louis had not yet

received him; but everybody knew that people of distinction in all

walks of life went secretly to his lodgings.

 

Lafayette knew not one word of English. Silas Deane knew little, if

any, French, and it was De Kalb who acted as interpreter when the

young nobleman went to call upon him. Liberty, like misery, brings

about strange companionships. Three men more unlike could scarcely

have been found. Although known as "Baron," Johann Kalb was a man of

mystery who had in truth begun life as a butler and had won his place

in the army through sheer merit. He was middle-aged, handsome, and

grave. Silas Deane, the lawyer-merchant from Connecticut, was not only

imperfectly equipped with French, his manners were so unpolished as to

appear little short of repulsive. Lafayette's usual quiet was shaken by

his new enthusiasm. His bearing, which seemed awkward at Versailles,

[Pg 37]was more graceful than the Yankee envoy thought quite moral,

or than the grave soldier of fortune had been able to achieve. And

he was ridiculously young. Even he realized that. "In presenting my

nineteen-year-old face to Mr. Deane," says the _Memoirs_, "I dwelt more

on my zeal than on my experience; but I did make him comprehend that my

departure would cause some little excitement and might influence others

to take a similar step." He could make the family opposition count for

something on his side!

 

Whatever Silas Deane may have lacked in manner, his wits were not slow.

He instantly saw the advantage of gaining such a convert to his cause.

The two signed an agreement which was a rather remarkable document.

On his part Silas Deane promised Lafayette the rank of major-general

in the Continental Army. But hardened as Deane was to making lavish

promises in the name of the Continental Congress, he knew that a

major-general only nineteen years of age, who had never heard the sound

of a hostile gun, would be received with question rather than with