Martha Foote Crow

IN the summer of 1775 Lafayette was stationed at the French garrison of Metz, where the Prince de Poix commanded the regiment "de Noailles." While he was there the Duke of Gloucester, brother of George III, king of England, came to that city and was present at a dinner given in his honor at the house of the governor of the garrison, the Count de Broglie. This count was a person of great sympathy and discernment. He had been observing the tall, red-haired boy of quiet, assured manner and few words, who represented so distinguished a family and gave so great promise for a future career. Eighteen years before he had seen this boy's father fall in battle, so he had a special interest in him. He now included young Lafayette among the guests at the dinner.

It appears that the Duke of Gloucester had just received letters from England telling about the revolt of the American colonies against the British government—about their prejudice in the little matter of a tax on tea, and about the strong measures to be taken by the English ministry to crush the rebellion. As the Duke of Gloucester was not on very good terms with his brother, King George, he told the story with somewhat vindictive glee.

This was probably the first that Lafayette had heard of American independence. Instantly his sympathy was touched to the quick. All the warlike and chivalric sentiments that he had inherited, all that had been carefully instilled by family tradition and by education, rose at once to the highest intensity. To the long and eager conversations that followed the news brought by the guest of the evening, Lafayette eagerly listened, and afterwards requested the duke to explain the situation more fully. His curiosity was deeply excited, his heart was at once enlisted. The idea of a people fighting against oppression stirred his imagination. From what he learned from the duke, the cause appealed to his sense of justice; it seemed the noblest that could be offered to the judgment of man. Before he left the table he had determined in his own mind to go to America and offer himself to the people who were struggling for freedom and independence.

From that moment his purpose was fixed. To realize his design he must go at once to Paris. Arriving there, he confided his plan to his two friends, the Viscount de Noailles and the Count de SÉgur, inviting them to share his project. Noailles had just turned nineteen, and SÉgur was twenty-two; Lafayette was eighteen. But the youngest differed from the others in one respect; he had already come into his fortune, and controlled an income of about two thousand livres, an amount that in purchasing power represented a fortune such as few young men in any country or at any time have commanded. The others could contribute nothing to Lafayette's plans but cordial sympathy. They did indeed go so far as to consult their parents, expressing their desire to join in Lafayette's chivalrous adventure, but their parents promptly and emphatically refused consent.

The surprise of the Noailles family can be imagined when they heard that the quiet, reserved youth had suddenly decided to cross the sea and take up the fragile cause of a few colonists revolting against a great monarchy. It was not long before all came to admit that the soul of the big boy had in it a goodness and a valor that nothing could daunt.

Many, however, who heard about the project Lafayette entertained felt a new admiration for the spirited boy. One of these smartly said that if Madame de Lafayette's father, the Duc d'Ayen, could have the heart to thwart such a son-in-law, he ought never to hope to marry off his remaining daughters! It made no difference to this lordly family that the tidings of the American revolt were echoing through Europe and awakening emotions that those monarchies had never experienced before; nor did they notice that the young nobility of France were feeling the thrill of a call to serve in a new cause. They were blind to those signs of the times; and no one dared to speak of them to the Duke d'Ayen, for he, with the other ruling members of the family, violently opposed Lafayette's plan.

While these things were going on, word came that those audacious colonists had carried their project so far as to issue a Declaration of Independence of the British government and to set up for themselves as a nation. The Noailles family were amazed, but they could not change their point of view.

Not being able to unravel all the threads of destiny that were enmeshing him, Lafayette was working in the dark, only knowing that he wanted to go, and that he could not bring himself to give up the project. He knew also that he must depend solely upon himself. Then there came into his mind the motto that he had since boyhood seen upon the shield of one of his famous ancestors in the castle at Chaviniac—"Cur non," Why not? He adopted this motto for his own and placed it as a device upon his coat of arms, that it might be an encouragement to himself as well as an answer to the objections of others.

Lafayette consulted his commander and relative, the Count de Broglie. He on his part did all he could to dissuade the lad; he pointed out that the scheme was Utopian; he showed up its great hazards; he said that there was no advantage to be had in going to the aid of those insignificant rebels—that there was no glory to be gained. Lafayette listened respectfully and said that he hoped his relative would not betray his confidence; for, as soon as he could arrange it, go to America he would! The Count de Broglie promised not to reveal his secret, but he added:

"I have seen your uncle die in the wars of Italy; I witnessed your father's death at the battle of Minden; and I will not be accessory to the ruin of the only remaining branch of the family."

These things made no impression upon the determination of the young hero, and the Count de Broglie was in despair. When he finally found, however, that the boy's determination was fixed, he entered into his plans with almost paternal tenderness. Though he would give him no aid, he introduced him to the Baron de Kalb who was also seeking an opportunity to go to America, and he thought his age and experience would be of value to the young adventurer.

This Baron de Kalb was an officer in the French army with the rank of lieutenant colonel. He was a man of fifty-five, who had served in the Seven Years' War and who had been employed by the French government ten years before to go secretly to the American colonies in order to discover how they stood on the question of their relations with England.

At that time there was a representative of the colonies in Paris to whom all who felt an interest in American liberty had recourse. This man was Silas Deane. To him Lafayette secretly went.

"When I presented to Mr. Deane my boyish face," said Lafayette later in life, "I dwelt more (for I was scarcely nineteen years of age) upon my ardor in the cause than on my experience."

Naturally, for he had had no experience whatever. But he could speak of the effect that his going would have upon France, since because of his family and connections notice would surely be taken of his action. This might influence other young men and might win favor for the colonies in their struggle. Silas Deane was quick to see this and to draw up an agreement which he asked Lafayette to sign. It was as follows:

"The wish that the Marquis de Lafayette has shown to serve in the army of the United States of North America and the interest that he takes in the justice of their cause, making him wish for opportunities to distinguish himself in the war, and to make himself useful to them as much as in him lies; but not being able to obtain the consent of his family to serve in a foreign country and to cross the ocean, except on the condition that he should go as a general officer, I have believed that I could not serve my country and my superiors better than by granting to him, in the name of the very honorable Congress, the rank of Major-General, which I beg the States to confirm and ratify and to send forward his commission to enable him to take and hold rank counting from to-day, with the general officers of the same grade. His high birth, his connections, the great dignities held by his family at this court, his disinterestedness, and, above all, his zeal for the freedom of our colonies, have alone been able to induce me to make this promise of the said rank of Major-General, in the name of the United States. In witness of which I have signed these presents, done at Paris, this seventh of October, seventeen hundred and seventy-six."

To this startling document the undaunted boy affixed the following:

(signed) "The Marquis de Lafayette."

About this time Dr. Benjamin Franklin was added to the group of American envoys. He was an instant success in the Parisian world. With his baggy coat, his coonskin cap, and his one-eyed spectacles, Franklin was the admired of all the grand ladies of the court, while his ability to "bottle lightning" was a favorite topic for discussion. The queen favored Franklin and the American cause; the king also; but neither dared to say so openly lest the spies of England, France's hereditary enemy, should find it out. Lafayette was obliged to preserve the utmost secrecy in making his arrangements and to secure the interviews in such a way that no one would suspect what he was planning.

Unfortunately, bad news began to come from America. The disasters of Long Island and White Plains had befallen, and the English army was being reËnforced by regiments of Hessians. This news destroyed what credit the colonies had in France. No one now had any hope for their endeavors, and no one could be found who would consider fitting out a vessel for Lafayette and his friends.

The American envoys thought it no more than right to tell this to the eager Lafayette and to try to dissuade him from his project to go to America. To this end they sent him word to come for another secret conference. He did so, and the envoys explained to him the discouraging situation.

One of the points wherein this young Lafayette approached nearest to greatness was in the way he could face some black disaster, and, with an absolutely quenchless spirit and the most adroit cleverness, turn the disaster into an advantage. This happened when Lafayette went to see these envoys. He received the news with a brow of unruffled calm. He thanked Mr. Deane for his kindness in trying to save him from disaster. Then he added: "Until now, Sir, you have only seen my ardor in your cause; I may now prove to be really useful. I shall myself purchase a ship to carry out your officers. We must show our confidence in the future of the cause, and it is especially in the hour of danger that I wish to share your fortunes."

This reply cast another light upon the circumstances. The American envoys regarded the enthusiasm of the young nobleman with approbation; the plan was pressed forward, preparations were made to find a vessel, to buy it, and fit it out. All this had to be done secretly, as the eagerness of Lafayette called for haste.

Meantime, a plan had been made for Lafayette to go on a visit to England with his relative, the Prince de Poix. It would be better not to interfere with the arrangement already made, it was thought; though Lafayette was impatient to carry out his plan for embarking, he wisely agreed to visit England first. In this plan Mr. Deane and Dr. Franklin concurred.

Lafayette made the journey with the Prince de Poix, and for three weeks had a busy time, being richly entertained and observing English life. He was in a rather delicate situation, for he was now a guest among a people with whom in one respect he could not sympathize and toward whom he entertained a hostile feeling. But in all he did he carefully drew the line between the honor of the guest and the attitude of the diplomatist. Though he went to a dance at the house of Lord Germain, minister of the English colonies, and at that of Lord Rawdon, who had but just come from New York, and though he made the acquaintance of the Clinton whom he was soon to meet on opposing sides of the battle line at Monmouth, he chivalrously denied himself the pleasure and profit of inspecting the fortifications and seaports where ships were being fitted out to fight the American rebels. More than that; he openly avowed his feelings about the hazardous and plucky attempt of the colonies to free themselves from England; and he frankly expressed his joy when news of their success at Trenton was received. This very spirit of independence in the young French noble made him all the more a favorite among the English who, together with their king, did not in the least dream that the foolish rebels across the sea could accomplish anything by their fantastic revolt.

Among other acquaintances made in England at this time was one Fitzpatrick, whose life was to be strangely mingled with Lafayette's in later days. Fighting on opposite sides of the conflict in America, they were yet to meet cordially between battles, and Lafayette was to send letters in Fitzpatrick's care to his wife in France—letters in which he took pains to inclose no matters relating to the war, since that would have been unsportsmanlike; still later, owing to a tragic concurrence of events, this even-minded and generous Englishman was to make persistent appeals to the English government to take measures to free Lafayette from a hateful imprisonment in an Austrian stronghold, gallant appeals, made, alas, in vain!

As soon as Lafayette could conveniently withdraw from his English hosts he did so, and hurried back to Paris, where he kept himself as much out of sight as possible until the final preparations for the voyage were completed. At last all was ready and Lafayette reached Bordeaux where the boat was waiting. Here swift messengers overtook him to say that his plans were known at Versailles. Lafayette set sail, but he went only as far as Los Pasajos, a small port on the north coast of Spain. Here letters of importance awaited the young enthusiast, impassioned appeals from his family and commands from his king. The sovereign forbade his subject to proceed to the American continent under pain of punishment for disobedience; instead, he must repair to Marseilles and there await further orders.

Lafayette knew what this meant. His father-in-law was about to go to Italy and would pass Marseilles on the way. Lafayette was to be made to go with him on an expedition where he knew he would be monotonously employed, with no prospect of exercising his energies in any congenial project. He was not without many proofs as to what might happen to him if he disobeyed these orders and risked the displeasure of the king. The Bastille was still standing and the royal power was absolute!

Letters from his wife also made a strong appeal. A little child now brightened their home; yet the young husband and father must have reflected that his own father had left a young and beautiful wife; that the young soldier had torn himself away from his home and bride in Chaviniac, following the lure of arms, and had, but a few weeks before his own son's birth, rushed off to the battlefield where he ran the risk of returning no more. Why should not the son take the same risk and leave all for a great cause? To be sure, the father lost in the venture, but perhaps the son would not. It was in the Lafayette blood to seek for hazard and adventure. Cur non? Why not?

He was convinced that he would do no harm to any one but himself by following out his purpose, and he decided not to risk further interference from family or ministry. To get away safely he adopted a ruse. He started out as if to go to Marseilles; but costuming himself as a courier, he proceeded instead toward Los Pasajos, where his ship and friends were awaiting him. The masquerade was successful until he reached St. Jean de Luz where a hairbreadth escape was in store for him. Here certain officers were watching for Lafayette. The clever daughter of an innkeeper recognized him as the young nobleman who had passed some days before on the way to Bordeaux. A sign from Lafayette was enough to keep her from making known her discovery, and he slept, unrecognized, on the straw in the stable, while one of his fellow-adventurers played the part of passenger. This is why it has been said that but for the clever wit of an innkeeper's daughter, Lafayette might have languished for the next few years in the Bastille instead of spending them gloriously in aiding us to gain our independence.

Lafayette reached Los Pasajos in safety. From the picturesque cliffs back of the harbor he saw his ship, La Victoire—name of good omen!—lying at anchor. There was the happy meeting of friends who were to share his adventures and successes in the New World, and on the 20th of April, 1777, they sailed forth on their voyage.

Two letters followed the enthusiastic fugitive. One was from Silas Deane, who testified to the American Congress that a young French nobleman of exalted family connections and great wealth had started for America in order to serve in the American army. He affirmed that those who censured his act as imprudent still applauded his spirit; and he assured Congress that any respect shown Lafayette in America would be appreciated by his powerful relations, by the court, and by the whole French nation.

The other letter was a royal mandate calling upon the American Congress to refuse all employment whatsoever to the young Marquis de Lafayette. The first letter traveled fast; the second missive was subjected to intentional delays and did not reach its destination until Lafayette had been made an officer in the American army.