Lafayette found his brother-in-law De Noailles and De SÉgur in Paris, and, certain of being thoroughly understood by these two friends, confided his plan to them. As he expected, both expressed a wish to accompany him. The wish may not have been entirely unselfish. Many young officers in the French army were chafing at the inaction which ten years of peace had forced upon them, and this chance to distinguish themselves in war may have appealed to them at first even more strongly than the justice of the American cause. It certainly added to the appeal of justice in Lafayette's own case; but meetings with Silas Deane and his associates, Arthur Lee and Mr. Carmichael, above all, with Benjamin Franklin, who came to Paris about this time, soon altered interest to a warmer and less selfish feeling.

These Americans, with their unfashionable clothes, their straightforward speech, and their simple bearing, with plenty of pride in it, presented the greatest possible contrast to the curled and powdered flatterers surrounding Louis XVI. To meet them was like being met by a breath of fresh, wholesome air. The young men who came under their influence fancied that Franklin might almost be a friend of Plato himself. "What added to our esteem, our confidence, and our admiration," wrote De SÉgur, "were the good faith and simplicity with which the envoys, disdaining all diplomacy, told us of the frequent and oft-repeated reverses sustained by their militia, inexperienced as yet in the art of war." Merely as a sporting proposition it was a fine thing that they and their army were doing.

De SÉgur and De Noailles quietly entered into an agreement with the Americans, as Lafayette had done. So did others; and it became impossible to keep their plans secret. When the families of our three friends learned of their quixotic plan it was clear they would never consent. De Noailles played a bold card by applying directly to the War Office for permission to serve as a French officer in the American army, hoping in this way to match family opposition with official sanction, but the War Office refused. After that there was nothing to do but to submit, since they were not men of independent means like Lafayette, though both were older than he and held higher military rank. They were dependent upon allowances made them by their respective families, who thus had a very effective way of expressing disapproval. All they could do was to assure Lafayette of their sympathy and keep his secret, for they knew that the opposition which blocked them would only make him the more determined. The better to carry out his plan, however, he also pretended to listen to reason and to give up all thoughts of crossing the Atlantic.De Kalb, meanwhile, almost succeeded in leaving France. But the French government decided that it would be a breach of neutrality to allow its officers to fight against England, and he was obliged to turn back. Knowing more about the secret hopes and plans of the Comte de Broglie than Lafayette knew, he proposed that they go together to consult him, and they spent several days at the count's country home. How much Lafayette learned about his host's American dreams is uncertain, nor does it make much difference in Lafayette's own story. The two elder men were quite willing to use his enthusiasm to further their own ends; but he had great need of their help. It was agreed that the voyage to America must on no account be given up, and that the best way would be for Lafayette to purchase and fit out a ship. This, however, was easier said than done. One cannot buy a ship as casually as a new pair of gloves.

Not only was his family genuinely opposed and his government officially opposed to his going; England had spies in Paris. It was jestingly said that all the world passed at least once a day over the Pont Neuf, and men were supposed to be on watch there, to ascertain who had and who had not left the city. England, moreover, had agents at every seaport in northern France. But Bordeaux in the south seemed very far away in days of stage-coach travel, and consequently was not so well guarded. As luck would have it, the Comte de Broglie's secretary had a brother who knew all about ships and merchants in Bordeaux. He found a vessel which would do, though she was not very good. Her name could not be improved upon, for she was called La Victoire. Perhaps, like her new owner, she was able to choose one to fit the occasion. She was to cost 112,000 francs, one-quarter down, and the rest within fifteen months of the date of delivery, which was fixed for the middle of March, 1777.

Weeks before this time arrived very bad news had come from America. The report ran that Washington had lost practically everything. He had been defeated in the battles of Long Island and White Plains; New York was burned, and he and his troops, reduced now to a ragged mob of two or, at most, three thousand men, were in full retreat across New Jersey, pursued by thirty thousand British. It was well known that England was the most powerful military nation of Europe and that, not content with her own forces, she was hiring regiments of Hessians to send overseas. Clearly the triumph of such numbers must come speedily. All society, from Marie Antoinette down, admired the sturdy, independent Franklin, with his baggy coat and his homely wit. Portraits of him in his coonskin cap were to be seen in every home. He was a wizard who had done things with lightning no other mortal had done before, but even he could not bring success to a hopeless cause.

FRANKLIN AT THE FRENCH COURT
All society, from Marie Antoinette down, admired the sturdy, independent Franklin, who was always a welcome guest at court

The prospect must have appeared black indeed to the envoys themselves. Honorable men that they were, they felt in duty bound to explain the changed conditions to Lafayette, and not to allow him to ruin his whole future because of a promise enthusiastically given. They sent him a message asking him to come and see them. He knew he was watched and dared not meet Franklin openly, but he went at once to Silas Deane and listened to all he had to tell him. When he finished the young Frenchman thanked him for his very frank statement of a bad situation and then made a very frank statement in return. "Heretofore," he said, "I have been able to show you only my willingness to aid you in your struggle. The time has now come when that willingness can be put to effective use, for I am going to buy a ship and take your officers out in it. Let us not give up our hope yet; it is precisely in the time of danger that I wish to share whatever fortune may have in store for you." After that it would have required superhuman unselfishness on the part of the Americans to dissuade him.

How transactions which covered three months of time, two-thirds of the length of France, and involved so many individuals remained undiscovered is a mystery unless we assume that the opposition of the government was more feigned than real. Officials appear to have closed their eyes most obligingly whenever possible.

To divert suspicion from himself, Lafayette occupied several weeks in a visit to England which had been arranged long before. Franklin and Deane were most anxious to have him carry out this plan to visit the French ambassador in London. So Lafayette crossed the Channel and spent three weeks in the smoky city, where he received many social courtesies. He appears to have enjoyed this season of gaiety much better than similar occasions at home. The necessity for hiding his plans gave zest to meetings and conversations that would otherwise have been commonplace enough, while the necessity for remaining true to his ideals of conduct—of continuing to be a guest and not a spy in an enemy country—exercised his conscience as well as his wit. It became a humorous adventure to dance at Lord Germain's in the same set with Lord Rawdon, just back from New York, and to encounter between acts at the opera General Clinton, against whom he was soon to fight at Monmouth. When presented to his Majesty George III he replied to that monarch's gracious hope that he intended to make a long stay in London, with an answer at once guarded and misleading. The king inquired what errand called him away, and Lafayette answered, with an inward chuckle, that if his Majesty knew he would not wish him to remain! Although taking good care not to betray his plans, he made no secret of his interest in the Colonists or his belief in the justice of their cause; and he avoided visiting seaport towns where expeditions were being fitted out against them, and declined all invitations likely to put him in a position to obtain information to which, under the circumstances, he felt he had no right.

Before leaving London he wrote a long letter to his father-in-law, to be delivered only when he was safely on his way to Bordeaux. Then he crossed to France, but instead of going to his own home took refuge with De Kalb at Chaillot, a suburb of Paris. Here he remained three days, making final preparations. On one of these days he appeared very early before the sleepy, astonished eyes of his friend De SÉgur, sent away the servant, closed the door of the bedroom with great care, and hurled the bombshell of his news: "I am going to America. Nobody knows it, but I am too fond of you to leave without telling you my secret." Then he gave him the outline of his plan, including the port from which he was to sail and the names of the dozen French officers who were to accompany him. "Lucky dog! I wish I were going with you!" was the substance of De SÉgur's answer, but it had not the usual ring of sincerity. De SÉgur was about to marry a young aunt of Adrienne Lafayette's and his wedding-day was drawing very near.

Lafayette managed to impart his secret to De Noailles also, but he left Paris without a farewell to Adrienne. The one hard thing in this hurried departure was that he did not dare to see or even to write directly to her. She was not well; and, besides the risk of arrest involved in visiting her, the interview could only be unnerving and distressing on both sides. The letter he wrote from London to her father appears to have been the nearest to a direct message, and that, it must be confessed, contained no mention of her name and no word exclusively for her. It was her mother, the upright Madame d'Ayen, who broke the news of his departure, tempering the seeming cruelty of his conduct with words of praise for his pluck and for the motive which prompted him to act as he did. Madame d'Ayen was the only one of the immediate family who had a good word for the runaway. The young wife clung to her, appalled at the anger of her father. The duke was furious, and once more the worthy pair came to the verge of quarrel over this well-meaning young man. The count could see only madcap folly in exchanging an assured position at the French court for the doubtful honor of helping a lot of English farmers rebel against their king. For a few days the town buzzed with excitement. Lafayette's acquaintances were frankly astonished that the cold and indifferent young marquis had roused himself to such action, and thought it exceedingly "chic" that he should "go over to be hanged with the poor rebels." They were indignant at the bitterness of the duke's denunciation. One lady with a sharp tongue said that if he treated Lafayette so, he did not deserve to find husbands for the rest of his daughters.

The runaway was safely out of Paris, but by no means out of danger. The Duc d'Ayen, who honestly felt that he was bringing disgrace upon the family, bestirred himself to prevent his sailing, and had a lettre de cachet sent after him. A lettre de cachet was an official document whose use and abuse during the last hundred years had done much to bring France to its present state of suppressed political excitement. It was an order for arrest—a perfectly suitable and necessary document when properly used. But men who had power, and also had private ends to gain, had been able to secure such papers by the hundreds with spaces left blank wherein they could write whatever names they chose. It was a safe and deadly and underhand way of satisfying grudges. In Lafayette's case its use was quite lawful, because he was captain in a French regiment, leaving the country in disobedience to the wish of his sovereign, to fight against a nation with whom France was on friendly terms. Technically he was little better than a deserter. When such conduct was brought to official notice, only one course was possible. The lettre de cachet was sent, a general order was issued forbidding French officers to take service in the American colonies, and directing that if any of them, "especially the Marquis de Lafayette," reached the French West Indies on such an errand he should forthwith return to France. Word was also sent to French seaports to keep a close watch upon vessels and to prevent the shipment of war materials to North America. Lafayette's friends became alarmed at all this activity and feared that it might have serious consequences not only for him, but for themselves. Officials began to receive letters from them calculated to shift the blame from their own shoulders, as well as to shield the young man. The French ambassador to England, whose guest he had been in London, was particularly disturbed, but felt somewhat comforted when he learned that a high official in the French army had asked King George for permission to fight as a volunteer under General Howe. This in a manner offset Lafayette's act, and England could not accuse France of partiality if her officers were to be found engaged on both sides.