Lafayette (38 page)

The rest of the French aristocracy invented equally entertaining pursuits—masked balls, extravagant dinners, and gala soireés at the theater, opera, or ballet. By comparison, the Lafayettes were staid: even Puritan John Adams commented on their strict repudiation of card playing, gambling, late-night parties, and other fashionable amusements. The Lafayettes “received” every Monday evening; theirs was the most celebrated salon, where illustrious members of French nobility mixed with Americans—Benjamin Franklin and John Adams usually prominent among them. At a time when things
American had become the rage of Paris, Lafayette’s home was an American shrine, with a cherished portrait of Washington at its altar and American flags draped conspicuously on walls and furnishings. The wall of his “American” study held a gold-lettered copy of the Declaration of Independence that Franklin’s grandson William had obtained for him. It filled but one-half of a double frame: Lafayette said the other half awaited “the declaration of rights in France.” Even Adams’s cranky face melted into a broad smile when Lafayette pulled his guests to the Declaration—as he always did—to see the Adams and Franklin signatures as the two Americans looked on in feigned modesty.

“The object of my wanting a Declaration of Independence,” Lafayette explained, “is . . . when I wish to put myself in [good] spirits, I will look at it, and most voluptuously read it over.”
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Adrienne proved herself a brilliant hostess. Crowds gathered outside the brightly illuminated Lafayette mansion to watch the luminaries flow in and out: the ever-present Franklin; philanthropist-politician William Wilberforce, the founder of England’s Anti-Slavery Society; and twenty-four-year-old William Pitt the Younger, who would become British prime minister before the end of the year. Lafayette enjoyed Pitt’s “modesty, nobility, and character, which is as rich as the role for which it destines him to play. . . . Since we won the war, I must admit I take a lot of pleasure in meeting with Englishmen. . . . I thought of the horrors they inflicted on America and their ties to tyranny . . . but now I enjoy them and have no difficulty mingling with them, either as a Frenchman, an American soldier or an ordinary person.”
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Imitations of American-style
égalité
and
liberté
also became fashionable in Paris. Young noblemen like the vicomte de Noailles, who had soldiered in America, introduced simpler, more relaxed, informal American dress and manners. Queen Marie-Antoinette even received men at her table—something no queen had ever done. As Americans flocked to France on business, French aristocrats vied with each other to invite them to their salons. Introducing
mon ami américain
was not only chic, it was an essential for social success at any formal reception. But it was Lafayette’s house that most Americans sought, and he welcomed each as an old friend. “Be pleased to consider my house as being your own,” he had written Connecticut banker Jeremiah Wadsworth, who came to sell American tobacco to the French tobacco monopoly. Lafayette immediately agreed to help.
⁵

In October, former major Pierre Charles L’Enfant, Lafayette’s former aide and military engineer at Albany, appeared at the rue de Bourbon with a packet of letters from Washington—one of them dictated by Martha, who was refurbishing their home at Mount Vernon and needed a staggeringly large amount of new household goods. Prefacing it with apologies “for any
liberty I might take with you,” Washington explained that, after warring with the English for eight years, “I do not incline to send to England (from whence formerly I had all my Goods) for any thing I can get upon tolerable terms elsewhere.” Relying on Lafayette’s knowledge of “customs, taste & manner of living in America,” he asked his French friend to buy and ship a complete set of

plated ware. . . . Every thing proper for a tea-table . . . a large tea salver, square or round as shall be most fashionable; to stand on the tea-table for the purpose of holding the Urn, teapot, Coffeepot, Cream pot, china cups & saucers & c[eter]a.

A large tea urn, or receptacle for the water which is to supply the tea pot,
at the table
.

2 large Tea pots—& stands for Ditto.

1 Coffee-Pot—& stand.

1 Cream Pot,

1 Boat or Tray, for the Teaspoons.

1 Tea-Chest—such as usually appertains to tea or breakfast tables—the inner part of which, to have three departments—two for tea’s of different kinds—the other for Sugar. . . .

     Also,

Two large Salvers, sufficient to hold twelve common wine glasses, each.

Two smaller-size Do. for 6 wine glasses, each.

Two bread baskets—middle size.

A Sett of Casters—to hold oil, Vinegar, Mustard, &c.

A Cross or Stand for the centre of the Dining table.

12 Salts, with glasses in them.

Eight Bottle sliders.
⁶

Six large Goblets, for Porter. Twelve Candlesticks.

Three pair of snuffers, & Stands for them.
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In addition to Washington’s shopping list, L’Enfant brought Lafayette designs for a new American medal. Secretary of War Henry Knox and a group of retired officers had founded the Society of Cincinnati, a fraternal organization to raise funds for Revolutionary War widows and orphans. They named it after Lucas Quinctius Cincinnatus, the Roman who left his farm in 485
B.C.
to lead Rome to victory over the Aequians and, as Washington would do, rejected subsequent military and political power and returned to his farm. Perpetually hereditary to the oldest direct or collateral male heir, membership was open to all officers with three years’ service in the Revolution who
paid an enrollment fee equivalent to one month’s military pay. The society elected George Washington its first member and president, and, because America had no mint, Knox sent L’Enfant to Paris to have medals struck at the French mint
⁸
and to ask Lafayette to organize and head a French branch. Because “we consider you as an American and therefore one of us,”
⁹
the American branch inducted Lafayette into its membership with Washington and asked L’Enfant to present the first medal and certificate to Lafayette.

When he was not shopping for Martha Washington, Lafayette threw himself into the task of organizing the French branch of the Society of Cincinnati. His immediate friends and former comrades in arms eagerly enrolled— d’Estaing, Rochambeau, de Grasse, the vicomte de Noailles, the comte de Ségur, Gimat, and others. But Lafayette soon discovered that the society provoked as much rage as respect. Poor veterans could not afford membership, and many political leaders—Americans as well as French—feared that hereditary membership would produce an elite military aristocracy that could subvert civilian government. In the United States, Jefferson and Samuel Adams railed against it, and John Adams wrote an angry letter to Lafayette from Holland that “the introduction into America of so great an innovation as an order of chivalry . . . [is] against the spirit of our governments and the genius of our people.”
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Lafayette unilaterally abandoned enrollment fees and assured Adams, “My principles ever have been against heredity.”
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He then wrote to Washington: “Most of the Americans here are indecently violent against our Association . . . Jay, Adams, and all the others. . . . I am as ready as any man to renounce it. You will be my compass, my dear General, because at this distance I cannot judge. In case . . . you find that heredity will injure our democratic institutions, I join with you by proxy in voting against it.” With Lafayette’s letter in hand, Washington cast his vote and Lafayette’s with the majority of American delegates to abolish heredity in the society.

Along with the crates of housewares, Lafayette sent the Washingtons innumerable personal gifts, ranging from French hunting dogs and European plants to a tender portrait of the three Lafayette children—and the first glimpse Washington had of his godson and namesake.

When Martha was not standing over him dictating her list of needs, Washington always wrote thoughtfully and warmly—often poetically—to the young man who remained a son to him:

At length my Dear Marquis I am become a private citizen on the banks of the Potomac & under the shadow of my own Vine & my own Fig-tree, free from the bustle of a camp & the busy scenes of public life, I am solacing myself with those tranquil enjoyments, of which the Soldier who is ever in pursuit of fame—the Statesman whose watchful days & sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare of his own—perhaps the ruin of other countries, as if this Globe was insufficient for us all—& the Courtier who is always watching the countenance of his Prince, in hopes of catching a gracious smile, can have little conception. I am not only retired from all public employments, but I am retiring within myself; & shall be able to view the solitary walk, & tread the paths of private life with heartfelt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all, & this my dear friend, being the order for my march, I will move gently down the stream of life, until I sleep with my Fathers.
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Washington went on to describe the British evacuation of New York the previous November—“the American troops took possession of it the same day & delivered it over to the civil authority of the state . . . the harbour of New York was finally cleared of the British flag about the 5h. or 6h. of Decemr.” Thus ended the great and decisive “battle” of New York in which Lafayette had so wanted to participate—without a shot fired. Washington
told Lafayette of going to Philadelphia and thereafter to Annapolis, “where Congress were then, and are now sitting, I did present them my Commission, & made them my last bow—& on the Eve of Christmas entered these doors, an older man by near nine years, than when I left them. . . .

“Come with Madame la Fayette,” he urged Lafayette, “& view me in my domestic walks. I have often told you; & I repeat it again, that no man could receive you in them with more friendship & affection that I should do; in which Mrs. Washington would cordially join me. We unite in respectful compliments to your Lady, & best wishes for your little flock. With every sentiment of esteem, admiration & love, I am, my dr. Marqs., your most affectionate friend.”
¹³

Lafayette eagerly accepted Washington’s invitation, asking his “dear general . . . to present dutiful affectionate compliments to Mrs. Washington and . . . tell her that I hope soon to thank her for a dish of tea at Mount Vernon. Yes, my dear general, before the month of June is over you will see a vessel coming up Pottowmack, and out of that vessel will your friend jump with a panting heart and all the feelings of perfect happiness. . . . Adieu, my dear General, accept with your usual goodness the affectionate tribute of a heart so entirely devoted to you that no words can ever express the respect, the love and all the sentiments which you know it is glowing for you, and that make me untill my last breath your obedient servant and affectionate friend.”
¹⁴
Lafayette renewed his appeal to Washington and Martha to accompany him to France on the return voyage. Adrienne, too, wrote to Washington and invited him and Martha to come to Paris.

By the time Washington received Lafayette’s and Adrienne’s invitations, however, he and Martha had adopted two of her grandchildren, who were left orphaned by the death of their father—Martha’s son by her first marriage. He sent a touching reply to Adrienne: “Mrs. Washington is highly honoured by . . . your polite invitation to Paris; but she is far too advanced in life, and is too much immersed in the care of her little progeny, to cross the Atlantic. This, my dear Marchioness . . . is not the case with you. You have youth . . . and must have a curiosity to see the country, young, rude, and uncultivated as it is, for the liberties of which your husband has fought, bled, and acquired much glory, where every boy admires, every body loves him. Come, then, let me entreat it, and call my cottage your home; for your own doors do not open to you with more readiness than mine would. You will see the plain manner in which we live, and meet the rustic civility; and you shall taste the simplicity of rural life. It will diversify the scene, and may give you higher relish for the gayeties of the court, when you return to Versailles.”
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Despite the social triumphs of American businessmen in France, commercial success proved more elusive. Establishment of free ports did not loosen the monopoly of the
ferme
, which made internal markets all but impregnable to foreign goods that competed with French goods. The
ferme
not only refused to buy American products such as tobacco, it priced French products such as brandy so high that American merchants could not afford to trade for it. American merchants turned to Franklin for help, and he, in turn, appealed to Lafayette, who took the problem to the new finance minister, Charles-Alexandre de Calonne. Calonne, however, had close ties to the
ferme
and rejected Lafayette’s appeal, pledging to protect French industry by strengthening
ferme
control of trade. The resilient Lafayette adopted a daring new strategy learned from essayist Tom Paine: he published a public manifesto exposing the methods used by the
ferme
to drive French market prices higher. Assailing state protection of the
ferme
, he called for establishment of open markets and free competition: