good hands," and then the pride of the brave girl broke bounds, and with
shining eyes she exclaimed, "Better than you know. Come and see for
yourself!" and fairly pulled him into the fort, where he made a thorough
inspection, and his admiration increased momentarily as he saw what this
slip of a girl had been able to accomplish. Everything was in order, a
sentinel was on each bastion, the enemy had been held at bay--what man
could have done better work? Nay, who could have more nobly defended the
garrison?
With the light of intense admiration in his eyes La Monnerie paid
tribute to Madeleine's good judgment, bold tactics and ready wit which
had saved the situation, and for very embarrassment at his praise, a
deep flush crimsoned the girl's cheeks, as with a shy glance of
appreciation, she thanked him, adding quietly, "It is time to relieve
the guard, Monsieur. We have not been off our bastions for a week!"
Among all the incidents handed down concerning that troublous time in
the Canadian provinces, none is so worthy of lingering over as this
noble defence of Castle Dangerous, by the daughter of its commander, and
sweet and strong, the influence of Madeleine de Vercheres comes down to
inspire and thrill the hearts of girls of all countries and ages by the
deed she did in the name of her country and her King.
ADRIENNE DE LAFAYETTE:
A Young Patriot's Wife
MADAME DE LAFAYETTE! How stately the title sounds, and how slender and
girlish the little bride looks in her wedding finery, her dark eyes
large with excitement, and a soft flush on her delicate cheeks as she
gazes admiringly into the eyes of her "Big boy with the red hair," as
the young Marquis de Lafayette was called by his intimate friends.
Having seen the young bride and groom, for Lafayette was only nineteen,
while pretty Adrienne, his wife, was just fourteen, let us turn back the
pages of history for a moment and see what led up to this remarkably
youthful marriage.
To begin with, in the days of the reign of Louis XVI and the beautiful
young queen, Marie Antoinette, there was no more palatial residence in
all Paris than that which in 1711 came into the possession of the Duc de
Noailles and was thereafter called the Hotel de Noailles.
The finest artists of the day had re-decorated its stately rooms for the
Duc; its walls were hung with costly silk, its picture gallery was
famous even in a city rich in art treasures, even its stables were
fabulously large and far-famed. All that could minister to the joy of
life was to be found in the Hotel de Noailles in those happy days before
the clouds hanging low over France broke in a storm of disaster. Later
in 1768, Madame D'Ayen,--wife of the Duc de Noailles, who was also the
Duc D'Ayen,--mistress of the beautiful home, was leading a happy life
there with her four daughters, to whose education and care she devoted
most of her time.
It was the early afternoon of a day in spring. At three o'clock Madame
D'Ayen had dined with her children in the huge dining-room hung with
dull tapestries and family portraits, then with cheery laughter the
girls had run ahead of Madame to her bedroom, which was very large and
hung with crimson satin damask embroidered in gold, on which the sun
cast a cheerful glow. Louise and Adrienne, the two older girls,--Louise
only a year the elder,--handed their mother her knitting, her books and
her snuff, and then seated themselves, while the younger children
disputed as to which one should have the coveted place nearest Madame.
Comfortably settled at last, the older girls busy with their sewing,
Madame told them the story from the Old Testament of Joseph and his coat
of many colours. When she finished Louise asked question after question,
which her mother patiently answered, but Adrienne drank in the story
told in her mother's vivacious way, in silence. Begged for just one more
story, Madame then told an amusing experience of her convent days, on
which both of the girls offered so many comments that at last Madame
rose, saying rather impatiently:
"You speak in a forward and disobedient manner, such as other girls of
your age would never show to their parent."
Louise looked her mortification, but Adrienne said quietly, "That may
be, Madame, because you allow us to argue and reason with you as other
mothers do not, but you will see that at fifteen we shall be more
obedient than other children," and the girl's prediction was true.
Every month of the year was a pleasure to the happy children at the
Hotel de Noailles, but to both vivacious Louise and quiet Adrienne
summer was the crowning joy of their year, for then they were always
taken to visit their grandfather, the Marechal de Noailles, who
cheerfully gave himself up to making the visit as gay for the children
as possible. He played games with them in the house, delightful games
such as they never played at home, and better yet, planned wonderful
picnics for them, when with other cousins, and a governess in charge of
the cavalcade, they rode on donkeys to the appointed spot. The
governess, it is said, was a tiny person, blonde, pinched, and touchy,
and very punctilious in the performance of her duties. Once mounted on
her donkey, however, she entirely lost her dignity and appeared so
wild-eyed, scared, and stiff that one could not look at her without
feeling an irresistible desire to smile, which made her angry, though
what angered her most was the peals of laughter when she tumbled off her
donkey, as she seldom failed to do on an excursion. She usually fell on
the grass and the pace of her donkey was not rapid, so she was never
hurt, and the frolicsome children filed by her, for if one of them tried
to help her up, as Adrienne always wanted to do, a scolding was the
reward.
In sharp contrast to the happy summer visits were those paid every
autumn to the home of Madame D'Ayen's father, who lived at Fresnes. He
was old and deaf and wished the children to be so repressed, that had
Madame D'Ayen not made the visits as short as she could there would
doubtless have been some disastrous outbreak in their ranks.
For the other months of the year, life at the Hotel de Noailles was a
charmed existence for the children, especially for nature-loving
Adrienne, who spent most of her time in the beautiful garden surrounding
the house,--a garden celebrated throughout Paris for its marvellously
kept flower beds, separated by winding, box-bordered paths. A flight of
steps led from the house into this enchanting spot, and on either side
three rows of great trees shed their long shadow over the near-by walks,
while from the foot of the garden could be seen the wonderful panorama
of the Tuileries. The garden was indeed an enchanted land, and the
children played all sorts of games in its perfumed, wooded depths, only
pausing when their mother passed through the garden, when with cries of
joy they would cling to her skirts and tell her eager stories of their
doings. And so, in happy play, in hours of education by her mother's
side, in busy days of learning all the useful arts, seldom taught in
those days to children of such high social rank, Adrienne grew to be
fourteen years old. She was a reserved, well-informed, shy girl with
great beautiful brown eyes, which grew large and dark when she was
pleased with anything, and her finely chiselled features were those of a
born aristocrat, while her good disposition was clearly visible in her
expression, which was one of winning charm.
At that time in France it was customary for parents to receive proposals
of marriage for their daughters at a very early age, sometimes even
before the proposition had any meaning to the girl herself, and so it
happened that before Adrienne D'Ayen was twelve years old, the guardian
of the young Marquis de Lafayette had begged Madame D'Ayen to give her
daughter in marriage to his ward, who was but seventeen, and often was
one of the merry party of young people who frequented the Hotel de
Noailles,--in fact Adrienne felt for him the real affection which she
might have given to a brother.
The family of the young Marquis was one of the oldest and most famous in
France, famous for "bravery in battle, wisdom in counsel, and those
principles of justice and right which they ever practised." Young
Lafayette had been left an orphan when he was eleven years old, also the
possessor of an enormous fortune, at that time, of course, in the care
of his guardian. He had been a delicate child, and not especially
bright, but always filled with a keen desire for liberty of thought and
action, and when he became old enough to choose between the only two
careers open to one of his rank, he chose to be a soldier rather than a
courtier, as life at the Court did not appeal to one of his temperament.
Notwithstanding this, being a good looking, wealthy young man, he was
always welcome at Court and made the object of marked attentions by the
young Queen and her companions. Such was the young Marquis, who for
reasons diplomatic and political his guardian wished to marry to a
daughter of Madame D'Ayen, but Madame objected, saying that she feared
his large fortune, in the hands of one so headstrong as the young
Lafayette, might not make for his own and her daughter's happiness.
However, her family and friends begged her not to make the mistake of
refusing an alliance with a family of such distinction as the
Lafayettes, and finally, although this was as yet unknown to the girl
whose future it was to so closely touch, Madame withdrew her objections,
and so was decided the fate of little Adrienne D'Ayen, whose name was to
be in consequence linked thereafter with great events in history.
Two years later, in the spring of 1777, the Hotel de Noailles was in a
bustle of gay preparations. Louise D'Ayen, now fifteen years old, had
just become the bride of the Marquis de Montagu, and no sooner were the
festivities over, than Madame D'Ayen called Adrienne to her room, and
told her of the accepted proposal of M. de Lafayette for her hand. She
added, "In accepting this honour for you, my Adrienne, I have made the
stipulation that you and your husband are to remain here with me for the
present, as you are but children yet, that I may still influence your
education and religious experience. This proposal was made two years
ago, before the education of M. Lafayette was completed, but now that it
is accomplished, and you are fourteen years old, you are to become the
affianced bride of the young Marquis."
No well-brought-up French girl would have thought of resisting her
mother's decree, although her would-be husband was not to her liking,
but in this case the idea was altogether to Adrienne's own choice, and
her brown eyes grew dark with joy, and she clasped her hands,
exclaiming, "Oh, quel bonheur! Quel bonheur!" then escaped to her own
room to think about this wonderful fairy story happening which had come
to her.
Though she and the young Marquis had been constantly thrown together
before this, one can well imagine the degree of shyness which overcame
the young girl on their first meeting after the betrothal had been
announced. The world was in a dazzling array of spring beauty, so says
the historian,--the tender almonds were budding with softest green, the
daffodils and tulips were breaking into rare blooms, the world waking
from its winter sleep. All seemed to smile on the young lovers who
walked as in a dream-world through the flower-bordered paths and spoke
together of that future which they were to share.
But such a tete-a-tete did not occur again, for after that the little
bride-to-be was kept busy with her studies until the time came for a
flurry of preparation just before the marriage day, and it is
interesting to read the description of a wedding in those days of long
ago, in a country where the customs have ever been so different from
those of our own.
It is said that there were interviews with solemn lawyers who brought
huge parchments on which were recorded the estates and incomes of the
two young people, but of far greater interest to the bride was the
wonderful trousseau for which family treasures were brought to light,
rare laces were bleached, jewels were re-set and filmy gossamer muslins
were made up into bewitching finery for the pretty wearer; as well as
dresses for more formal occasions made with festoons of fairy-like
silver roses, panels of jewelled arabesques, cascades of lace lighter
and more frail than a spider's web, masses of shimmering satins and
velvets fashioned with heavy court trains, which when tried on the
slender girlish figure seemed as if she were but "dressing up" as girls
will often do for their own amusing. Then, too, there were priceless
jewels to be laid against the white neck, slipped on the slender
fingers, to marvel at their beauty and glitter, and to wonder if they
could really and truly be her own!
But even the sparkling gems, the elaborate trousseau, and all the
ceremony and flattery surrounding a girl who was making such a brilliant
marriage, failed to turn the head or spoil the simple taste of little
Adrienne. Even in her gayest moods--and like other girls, she had
them--Adrienne was never frivolous, and though possessed of plenty of
wit and spirit, was deeply religious and at heart unselfish and noble.
Monsieur and Madame de Lafayette! What magic there was in the new title.
How proudly the young couple, scarcely more than children yet, but now
husband and wife, bore themselves, as they returned from the church to
the Hotel de Noailles, to take up their residence there, according to
the promise made to Madame D'Ayen before she would consent to the
marriage. They would have preferred a home of their own, but when
shortly after their marriage Lafayette's regiment was ordered to Metz,
and broken-hearted little Adrienne was left behind, she found it very
comforting to be where she could child-wise sob out her loneliness on
the shoulder of her sympathetic mother. Poor little Adrienne,--well it
was that you could not see into the future with its many harder
separations!
With the return of Lafayette the pretty bride began to lead a life much
gayer than any she had ever led before, for she and her young husband,
because they belonged to two such famous families, became now a part of
the gay little set ruled by the caprices of Queen Marie Antoinette. That
first winter after their marriage the young couple went constantly to
balls and late suppers, to the opera and the play,--were in fact in a
constant whirl of amusement, which had the charm of novelty to them
both, and Lafayette, who had always, even as a boy, been a favourite at
Court, was still popular and still called "The big boy with the red
hair." He was always awkward, and conspicuous for his height, as well as
his clumsiness, and danced as badly as Adrienne did well, which
mortified him greatly, having discovered which, Queen Marie Antoinette
would often in a spirit of mischief order him to appear on the floor,
and then tease him mercilessly about his awkwardness. He was different
too in many ways from the courtiers with whom he was thrown, and his
dominant passion even then, at nineteen, was the ambition of a true
patriot, only waiting to be turned into its fitting channel.
Both he and Adrienne enjoyed the gaiety and lack of responsibility of
those first months of their married life, but more than the frivolity,
Adrienne enjoyed sitting at home with her husband and friends while
they discussed great national affairs, and later she loved best to slip
upstairs and care for the little daughter who came to be her especial
joy,--and so, absorbed in a variety of interests, the first two years of
Madame Adrienne's married life slipped away, and at sixteen we find her
as pretty and as slender as ever, but with a deeper tenderness and
gravity in her brown eyes.
At the Court of Versailles an honoured guest from the American Colonies
was being entertained,--a homely, unpolished, reserved man, named
Benjamin Franklin. He was a man with a mission: America must be a free
country, and France must help her in the struggle, not only with men,
but with money. This was the burden of his plea and it thrilled all
Paris. The plain brusque American became the fad of the hour. Shops
displayed canes, scarfs, hats--even a stove "a la Franklin," and he bore
away with him not only an immense gift, but also a large loan, neither
of which impoverished France could afford to give.
Foremost among those whom he inflamed in the cause of liberty was young
Lafayette, and Adrienne noted with keen alarm his growing indifference
to all other topics except that one which was absorbing his interest,
and although she said nothing to him about her fear, she went at once to
each member of his family with the same plea, "Persuade him not to go!
Tell him his duty is here! I would die if I were left alone after we
have been so happy together!" But even as she pleaded, the passion to go
to America was taking a firmer hold daily on the young enthusiast. His
family forbade it, but in secret he made his plans--in secret carried
them out to the last moment, when going to London for a couple of days,
he sent back a letter to his father-in-law, telling of his intentions.
M. de Noailles read it, sent at once for his wife, and after a brief
and agitated conference Adrienne was called. Eagerly impatient to know
why she had been summoned, she stood before her parents, so young and
frail that the mother's heart rebelled at having to tell her the cruel
news. She could not do it. Without a word she handed her the letter and
turned away that Adrienne might not see her sorrowful expression. Then
turning back again she said hastily, "It is an utterly absurd, selfish
scheme, my dear. I will see that it is not carried out."
Then she stood amazed. What had come over Adrienne? She held herself
erect, her eyes were dry, and she said proudly: "If my husband feels
that way, it is right and best for him to go to America, and we must do
all we can to make the parting easy for him. It is he who is going to
leave those who are dearest to him, for the sake of a noble cause."
Brave girl! Not once after that did she allow her own feelings to check
the ardour of Lafayette's patriotism, not once did she stay her hand in
her careful preparation for his departure, although every article laid
aside for his use was moistened by her unseen tears, while he was busy
with the interesting and enormously expensive work of chartering and
fitting up a ship, which Adrienne named _The Victory_, in which he was
to make his trip across the ocean.
The preparations were completed and the day had come for his going.
Slight, beautiful; too proud to show her emotion, thinking more of him
than of herself, Adrienne, not yet eighteen years old, bade her husband
farewell--saw him embark for a strange land, for the sake of a cause as
dangerous as it was alluring to the young patriot, and went back to her
quiet routine of home duties and regular occupations without one
murmur.
To her family and her friends she showed little of what she felt,
although many a night she did not even lie down, but sat at her desk,
pouring out her heart to the dear one tossing on a perilous sea, in
letters which though daily sent, never reached the young adventurer, so
we must needs imagine her transports of loneliness--her passion of
affection, written to ease and comfort and in a measure to fit her to
take up the next day's duties calmly.
Lafayette's letters to her had a better fate than hers to him, and one
day when she least expected it, a precious packet lay in Adrienne's
hands. Wild with excitement at sight of the familiar writing, she held
it for a long time unopened, then fled to the solitude of her own room
to read its contents with no eye watching her joy.
The letter was full of tender interest in her health, and of repetitions
of undying affection which warmed the heart so starved for them. Written
on board _The Victory_, May 30, 1777, it said: "I ought to have landed
by this time, but the winds have been most provokingly contrary. When I
am once more on shore I shall learn many interesting things concerning
the new country I am seeking. Do not fancy that I shall incur any real
danger by the occupations I am undertaking. The service will be very
different from the one I must have performed if I had been, for example,
a colonel in the French army. My attendance will only be required in the
council. To prove that I do not wish to deceive you, I will acknowledge
that we are at this moment exposed to some danger from the risk of being
attacked by English vessels, and that my ship is not of sufficient force
for defence. But when I have once landed I shall be in perfect safety. I
will not write you a journal of my voyage. Days succeed each other, and
what is worse, resemble each other. Always sky, always water, and the
next day a repetition of the same thing. We have seen to-day several
kinds of birds which announce that we are not very far from shore."
Fifteen days later there was a second letter, and then they arrived with
some degree of regularity to cheer lonely little Adrienne, watching,
waiting, and living on their coming. It was a time fraught with vital
issues in the American Colonies. Though to Lafayette there was somewhat
of disillusion in finding the American troops not like the dashing,
brilliantly uniformed ones of his own country, but merely a great army
of undisciplined, half-ragged soldiers, united only in the flaming
desire to acquire liberty for their beloved land at all hazards, yet
soon the young foreigner lost sight of all but their patriotism, and his
letters show how he too had become heart and soul inflamed by the same
spirit. Only fragments of the letters can be given here, but one can
picture the young wife, with her baby in her arms, in the home of her
childhood, devouring with breathless interest the story of her
adventurer in a strange land. On June 15th Lafayette writes:
"I have arrived, my dearest love, in perfect health at the house of an
American officer. I am going this evening to Charlestown. . . . The
campaign is opened, but there is very little fighting. . . . The manners
in this part of the world are very simple, polite and worthy in every
respect of the country in which the noble name of liberty is constantly
repeated. . . . Adieu, my love. From Charlestown I shall repair by land
to Philadelphia to rejoin the army. Is it not true that you will always
love me?"
A few days later he writes from Charlestown:
"I landed, after having sailed for several days along a coast swarming
with hostile vessels. On my arrival here everyone told me that my ship
must undoubtedly be taken, because two English frigates had blockaded
the harbour. I even sent, both by land and sea, orders to the Captain to
put the men on shore and burn the vessel. Well, by an extraordinary
stroke of good luck a sudden gale of wind having blown away the frigates
for a short time the vessel arrived at noonday without having
encountered friend or foe. At Charlestown, I have met with General Howe,
a general officer now engaged in service. The Governor of the State is
expected this evening from the country. I can only feel gratitude for
the reception I have met with, although I have not thought it best yet
to enter into any details respecting my future prospects and
arrangements. I wish to see the Congress first. There are some French
and American vessels at present here which are to sail out of the
harbour in company to-morrow morning. . . . I shall distribute my letters
along the different ships in case any accident should happen to either
one of them. . . .
"I shall now speak to you, my love, about the country and its
inhabitants, who are as agreeable as my enthusiasm had led me to
imagine. Simplicity of manner, kindness of heart, love of country and of
liberty and a delightful state of equality are met with universally. . . .
Charlestown is one of the finest cities I have ever seen. The American
women are very pretty and have great simplicity of character, and the
extreme neatness of their appearance is truly delightful; cleanliness is
everywhere even more studiously attended to here than in England. What
gives me most pleasure is to see how completely the citizens are
brethren of one family. In America there are no poor and none even that
can be called peasants. Each citizen has some property and all citizens
have the same right as the richest individual."
After protestations of deep devotion and loneliness the letter ends
with:
"The night is far advanced, the heat intense, and I am devoured with
gnats, but the best of countries have their inconveniences. Adieu, my
love, adieu."