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  Adrienne had fallen in love with this self-absorbed boy at first sight, and she stayed in love with him, whatever he did. Her mother consoled her by praising his character and predicting a great future for him. The older woman knew nothing about conquests or glory, Adrienne recalled, but in her heart was sure that he would achieve both. The pregnant girl needed no reassurance—she felt the same way.58

  Her father learned what Lafayette was up to in another tardy letter. “You will be astonished, my dear Papa, by what I am about to tell you,” it said. “I have found a unique opportunity to distinguish myself, and to learn my profession.” As a general officer in the American army, he was “overjoyed” at having a chance to show what he was made of.59

  Elsewhere in this letter, the teenage general promised to visit d’Ayen while he was in Paris. Instead, he delayed mailing it. He had stuck his finger into his father-in-law’s eye, and he was afraid to face him. This was not the stuff of a hero in the making. Not surprisingly, Lafayette soon began to have second thoughts.

  D’Ayen set out for Versailles, where Vergennes was in high dudgeon, fearing that the boy’s action would provoke a war before France was ready. He had embarrassed the government and compromised Ambassador Noailles. Louis expressed royal shock and forbade all French officers from serving in the British colonies. He ordered any who arrived there, “notably Monsieur le marquis de la Fayette,” to leave immediately and return to France. Vergennes announced that the king had issued a lettre de cachet (a royal warrant) for Lafayette.

  As this volcano erupted in their wake, Lafayette and de Kalb rode to Bordeaux. Soldiers pursued them with orders to report to Marseilles, but they became lost. Word of what the impetuous marquis was doing spread around the country, and people celebrated. In Paris, a mob cheered in the streets. He became an instant hero, a picture of gallant soldiery even before he boarded the ship. Plays were written and performed about his valor. The British ambassador was outraged, reporting home that there was general opposition to the government’s attempts to stop him.60

  Lafayette, de Kalb, and the others boarded Victoire under assumed names, unaware of what was going on in the capital. De Kalb had some premonitions, for he urged the marquis to write de Broglie’s brother, giving him cover. “I have the honor to inform you, M. le comte,” he said, “that I leave for the country you know, and for that adventure which you counseled me not to risk…. I have not even wished to discuss it with you again because…you would have opposed my desires, and I already had enough obstacles to overcome.”61

  De Broglie and the government used this pack of lies to counter claims by the British government that the comte had arranged Lafayette’s move to America on behalf of the French ministry. To the ambitious duc de Broglie, however, that was of small moment. Lafayette had unhorsed him again. Thanks to the political and diplomatic storm the boy had kicked up, de Broglie would never become an American generalissimo.

  His rear was not the only one needing protection. Lafayette confessed to de Kalb that he had acted without the knowledge of his family. De Kalb told Deane that he hoped this would not cause trouble for either of them, “for we both were confident that all was done in that matter by the advise & consent of his nearest relations.” A few months later he defended himself to the government against charges that he had encouraged the boy to defy his family. “I was utterly astounded,” he said, claiming that he had advised Lafayette to go home and face the music.

  Instead, the ship sailed for the Spanish Atlantic port of Los Pasajes, where the news from home caught up with it. “The letters from my family were terrifying,” Lafayette remembered, “and the lettre de cachet was peremptory: ‘You are forbidden to go to the American continent, under penalty of disobedience, and enjoined to go to Marseilles to await further orders.’” He knew the consequences of disobeying the king (imprisonment) and dreaded “the power and the wrath” of the royal government. Curiously, as Lafayette’s escapade made him fear for his safety, it heartened the American delegation in Paris, because of its effect on public opinion. “All Europe is for us,” Franklin and Deane told Congress.62

  L’affaire Lafayette was the talk of two cities. Edward Bancroft, Deane’s secretary and also a spy for the British, told London all about it, and provided a list of the officers with him. Tongues wagged at the French court and in Paris. When d’Ayen demanded that Deane write to Washington, asking him to revoke Lafayette’s commission, he did so. Then he set off a round-robin of blame that almost universally pointed at de Broglie. Justifying himself to Vergennes, Deane referred the foreign minister to de Broglie. To the British ambassador, Lord Stormont, Vergennes disavowed any official complicity in Lafayette’s departure, alleging de Broglie’s intrigues. Stormont first told his superiors in London to soft-pedal their reaction, saying the boy was responsible. A few days later, he joined the chorus and shifted the blame to de Broglie.63

  The saddest case involved the marquis de Noailles, ambassador to London, who had showed Lafayette around the court there. He wrote an anguished letter to the prime minister, the comte de Maurepas, wailing that he had been “extremely shocked” to learn that the boy had left for America, although his age might excuse his thoughtlessness. “Why, Monsieur le comte,” he asked in pain, “should incidents that are independent of political affairs, damage my reputation?”64

  Vergennes told the ambassador that “by the greatest good luck, the project has not been completed,” and no one would ever blame him anyway. The foreign minister was relieved, the prime minister was relieved, Deane was relieved, and d’Ayen also was relieved, asking Deane not to send the letter to Washington. Stormont crowed, “Lafayette’s expedition has been a short one indeed!” Lafayette was back in France.65

  The boy had gotten cold feet. On April 1, 1777, the day after his ship reached Spain, he was overcome with indecision. De Kalb demanded that he choose between the call of his family or going ahead with the expedition, so he bought a horse and rode back to France. The other officers wanted to sail without him, but de Kalb reminded them that Lafayette owned the ship. So they sat and waited.

  Lafayette rode into Bordeaux on the third. There were no troops standing by to arrest him, and the local commander advised him to report to Marseilles to await orders. Instead, Lafayette wrote to the prime minister, begging for a revocation of the king’s warrant. Then he sat and waited.

  De Broglie, his hopes of becoming generalissimo dissolving, sent a hard-riding aide to talk Lafayette into returning to the ship. He told him that everyone in Paris except d’Ayen was with him in his plans, that there really was no lettre de cachet on him, that de Broglie was close to Vergennes, and that the government was secretly behind him. Lafayette swallowed the whole story, some of which may have been true. When the Bordeaux commandant threatened to arrest him if he did not go to Marseilles, the teenage swashbuckler pretended to obey, hired a coach, and headed east with army officers on his tail. When the coach stopped to change horses, he put on a disguise, rented a horse, and galloped off toward the Spanish border. When his minders picked up his trail, he sweet-talked an innkeeper’s daughter into pointing them in the wrong direction.66

  Having conquered that challenge on his own, Lafayette became more sure of himself, and his swagger returned. He ordered the ship made ready as soon as he reached Los Pasajes. De Kalb wrote Deane that Lafayette had returned, and everything had been sorted out. Lafayette told Carmichael, “On the whole, this affair has produced all the éclat I desired, and now that everyone’s eyes are on us, I shall try to be worthy of that celebrity.” He predicted that after he departed everyone would agree with him, and “once I am victorious, everyone will applaud my enterprise.” He hoped to become a good general “as readily as I have become a good American.”67

  The night before he sailed, Lafayette penned a farewell to his pregnant wife. Another self-focused whine, it complained that “they” would not give him two weeks’ leave to see her. “My heart is broken,” he said. “If you do not send word to me tha
t you still love me, that you forgive me…I shall be in despair.”68

  Victoire sailed with the tide on April 20, 1777. She carried the spearhead of a crumbling plot to make de Broglie a generalissimo, and the scheme’s unwitting paymaster, the marquis de Lafayette.69

  As soon as the ship hit the ocean swells, the young adventurer discovered something about himself: he could not go on the water without becoming violently seasick.

  A GENEROUS RECEPTION WILL DO US INFINITE SERVICE

  As Lafayette heaved his guts over the gunwale, his family calmed down. Adrienne and her mother prevailed on d’Ayen to cut the boy some slack. He had tried to close off his son-in-law’s access to his own fortune and failed. Lafayette, although a minor, could spend whatever he wanted of his own money, according to his financial guardians. The point of the arranged marriage between his child and the marquis now lost, d’Ayen agreed to let his wife forward expense money secretly.

  Also secretly, the whole family went to see Deane and Franklin, looking for a covert way to make sure that Lafayette wanted for nothing. The boy had been spending money heavily and would likely continue to do so. They believed that he had no sense when it came to economy, and feared that he would be taken advantage of. This set off a remarkable series of letters to Congress, Washington, and others. Franklin asked the commander in chief to advance whatever sums Lafayette needed against his draft, which the Noailles family would honor. As the letters poured out of the American delegation, Lafayette’s future position in America was transformed. He became a valuable national commodity, and Washington was entrusted with his care.70

  Franklin and Deane knew that Congress was reluctant to accept any more of their recruits, but they believed that Lafayette should be an exception, because they had fallen for the notion that he went to America with the government’s secret approval. They argued that the boy would be a real asset to the American cause and that he should be protected accordingly. “The Marquis de Fayette [sic],” they advised, “is exceedingly beloved, and every bodys good wishes attend him. We cannot but hope he may meet with such a reception as will make the country and his expedition agreeable to him.” Even those who disapproved of his actions applauded his spirit, and a welcome reception in America would boost the United States’ interests, because it would please both the court and “the whole French Nation.” For the sake of the “beautifull young wife big with child” Lafayette had left behind, the ambassadors hoped that “his bravery and ardent desire to distinguish himself will be a little restrain’d by the Generals [Washington’s] prudence; so as not to permit his being hazarded much but on some important occasion.”71

  Deane separately wrote to Robert Morris, the most renowned money man in America, future superintendent of finance for the Revolution. He explained that because of Lafayette’s connections, “[a] generous reception will do us infinite service.” The marquis wanted no pay and had a distinguished military pedigree, but his relatives were “afraid his generous disposition may be abused by avanturiers of his own country.” Deane had assured them that he would “recommend him to the care & oversight of one who would be as a father to him on every occasion…He is expected to live in character, & his friends wish it, but they are apprehensive on the score I hinted at.” All the young man wanted was glory, and everyone in France thought he was bound for it. “You may think it makes a great noise in Europe, & at the same time see that well managed it will greatly help us.”72

  So Lafayette was coming to America, bringing the force of his connections with him. He was a powerful addition to the cause, but so gullible that somebody should watch out for him like a “father.” He was a soldier from a noble line of soldiers, but Washington should make sure that he was not put where he could be shot at.

  FOUR

  The Confusion Became Extreme

  (JUNE–SEPTEMBER 1777)

  There was a most infernal fire of cannon and musketry; smoke; incessant shouting, “Incline to the right!” “Incline to the left!” “Halt!” “Charge!” & c. The balls ploughing up the ground; the trees cracking over one’s head; the branches riven by the artillery; the leaves falling as in autumn, by the grape shot. The affair was general.

  —JOHN LAURENS

  In February 1777, Washington complained to Congress about the “distress” he suffered from the number of French officers wanting commissions in his army. “This evil,” he said, “is a growing one…they are coming in swarms.” They could not speak the language and therefore could not meet the first duty of a battalion officer—recruiting men. Moreover, “our officers…would be disgusted if foreigners were put over their heads.” He did not receive a reply.1

  Deane and Franklin were besieged by European officers wanting to get into the American conflict. The Continent swarmed with unemployed soldiers looking for adventure and glory, along with high military rank and peacetime nobility. Some of them were amazingly persistent. Franklin told one, “If, therefore, you have the least remaining kindness for me…for God’s sake, my dear friend, let this your twenty-third application be your last.”2

  The foreign officers the American commissioners sent overseas were not all bad. Franklin arrived in Paris late in 1776 with a request from Washington to find some competent military engineers. Among those he located was Louis le Bègue de Presle Duportail, who arrived in February 1777. The thirty-four-year-old son of a noble family, he was rising fast in the French service when the court “loaned” him to the United States. He became Washington’s chief engineer in July, and today he is honored as the father of the Army Corps of Engineers.3

  Louis le Bègue de Presle Duportail, by C.W. Peale, early 1780s. As Washington’s chief engineer, Duportail designed the siege of Yorktown and became the father of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. (INDEPENDENCE NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK)

  Many French officers showed up at Washington’s headquarters on their own. They were often supercilious and refused to learn English. Deane’s gifts to the cause created the most trouble, because frequently he offered them high rank, and Congress felt it had to go along, alienating native officers. In May the commander in chief exploded. “These men have no attachment nor ties to the country,” he complained to Congress. He was “disgusted” by the lawmakers’ habit of “giving rank to people of no reputation or service.” This time, his words were heard.4

  The last straw was a pompous ass named Philippe-Charles-Jean-Baptiste Tronson du Coudray. Born in 1738, he was an artillerist and the author of textbooks. He was well connected at court—his brother was Marie-Antoinette’s lawyer. In September 1776 Deane promised him a commission as major general and chief of artillery and engineers in the American forces. That superseded Knox, already chief of artillery, and outranked Greene and Sullivan; all three threatened to quit. The Frenchman’s personality prevented any friendly solution to these conflicts. Used to having his own way, he was arrogant, overbearing, and a veteran of thirty duels, who arrived in June 1777 with a retinue of eighteen officers and ten sergeants. Washington protested, and Duportail told him that the man was not the military engineer he claimed to be.

  Congress appointed a commission to deal with him. It was fishing around for titles by which to honor Deane’s commitments to these characters without placing them over American officers, and had already appointed an “inspector-general of cavalry,” who did not last long. It offered the same favor to Tronson du Coudray, making him “inspector-general of ordnance and military manufactures.” He received the rank of major general “of staff,” meaning he would command no line officers, but inserting him into Washington’s army was a prescription for trouble. He solved the problem in September by galloping his horse onto a ferry so fast that he landed in the water on the other side and drowned. As Lafayette put it later, “the loss of that troublemaker was perhaps a fortunate accident.”5

  HE REQUIRED NO PENSION NO SPECIAL COMMAND

  As Victoire pounded across the Atlantic, Lafayette had no idea that he was sailing in Tronson du Coudray’s wake. He had
no idea about anything in the first weeks out of port, because he was seasick. The trip was miserable, as all sea voyages were then. Passengers were confined to their cabins, small, dark, damp, smelly holes infested with bugs and decorated only by mold. Rations were short and nasty, the water was foul, and the weather was often rough.

  The marquis began to recover near the end of May and started a letter to Adrienne. It was another self-pitying lament, wondering whether she had forgiven him, wishing for a letter from her, and complaining about his seasickness. “[B]ut I could have given myself the consolation of the wicked, which is to suffer in a numerous company.” Then he reassured her—or himself. “Once I arrive,” he said, “I am sure that I shall have acquired the hardiness that will assure me perfect health for a long time. Do not fancy, dear heart, that I shall run great risks in my service here. The post of general officer has always been regarded as a warrant for long life.”

  On June 7 Lafayette complained about “this dreary plain, dear heart, and it is so dismal that one cannot make any comparison with it.” D’Ayen’s attitude bothered him, and he hoped that his service in America would win his father-in-law’s respect. Then he added a curious plea, asking her, for his sake, to “become a good American. Besides, it is a sentiment made for virtuous hearts. The welfare of America is intimately connected with the happiness of all mankind.” Hoping that landfall was near, he said he had been studying English from books. His last installment was written from “Major Huger’s house.” He was in America.6