“It was six days after she had left prison that George joined my mother, who had sent for him. My mother longed to see my sister and me, but she would not leave Paris before having obtained for my brother a passport for America. Knowing that my father’s wish would be to send him to the United States, she did not hesitate to make the sacrifice of separating herself from George. M. Frestel was to accompany him. My mother wrote the following letter to General Washington:—
“‘Sir: I send you my son. It is with the deepest and most sincere confidence that I put my dear child under the protection of the United States, which he has ever been accustomed to look upon as his second country, and which I myself have always considered as being our future home under the special protection of their President, with whose feelings towards his father I am well acquainted.
“‘My wish is that my son should lead a very secluded life in America, that he should resume his studies, interrupted by three years of misfortunes, and that, far from the land where so many events are taking place which might either dishearten or revolt him, he may become fit to fulfil the duties of a citizen of the United States, whose feelings and whose principles will always agree with those of a French citizen.
“‘I shall not say anything here of my own position, nor of the one which interests me still more than mine. I rely upon the bearer of this letter to interpret the feelings of my heart, too sorrowful to express any others but those of the gratitude I owe to MM. Monroe, Skypwith, and Mountflorence, for their kindness and their useful endeavors in my behalf.
“‘I beg M. Washington will accept the assurance, etc.
“‘Noailles La Fayette.’
“It can easily be imagined how cruelly my mother suffered on separating herself from her son, and on sending him, at fourteen, alone, amongst strangers, two thousand leagues off. But such would have been my father’s wish, and she found strength in that thought.
“My mother, after bidding farewell to George, had nothing more to keep her in Paris. She started for Auvergne. We went to meet her. You may fancy the ecstasy of our joy on seeing her. At last my mother’s passport was granted. She had provided for everything. All her actions, all her thoughts since my father’s departure had tended to find the means of joining him. It was after many difficulties and anxieties that we arrived at Vienna. The old Prince de Rosemberg, grand chamberlain, was moved by her appeal, and obtained for her an audience of the emperor, unknown to his ministers. We accompanied her. She was received with politeness, and simply asked permission to share my father’s captivity. The emperor answered: ‘I grant it to you; as for his liberty, that would be impossible; my hands are tied.’ To the expression of her gratitude for the favor she had just obtained, my mother added that the wives of my father’s friends imprisoned with him at Olmütz would envy her happiness. He replied: ‘They have only to act like you. I shall do the same for them.’ My mother said that she had heard of several vexations in use in the Prussian prisons, and she begged the emperor to allow her to address herself directly to him for the requests she might have to make. He answered: ‘I consent. But you will find M. de La Layette well fed and well treated. I hope you will do me justice. Your presence will give him fresh satisfaction. Anyhow, you will be pleased with the commanding officer. In jail the prisoners are only distinguished by their numbers, but as for your husband, his name is well known.’
“My mother left the audience-chamber, in an ecstasy of joy. She was obliged to pass a week more in Vienna, to hasten the despatch of the order which was to give her admittance into the prison. At last, after many delays, the order for admitting my mother into the prison of Olmütz was delivered to her by Ferraris, minister of war. He told her at the same time that he thought it his duty to advise her to reflect on the course she was taking, to warn her that she would be most uncomfortable, and that the prison life she was going to lead might have serious consequences for her and for her daughters. My mother did not even listen to him, and we set off immediately.
“We arrived on the second day after our departure, at eleven o’clock in the morning. Never shall I forget the moment when the post-boy pointed out to us in the distance the steeples of Olmütz. My mother’s emotion is still present to my mind. She was for some time choked with tears, but, as soon as she recovered the power of speech, she blessed God by these words of Tobit’s prayer:—