Your affectionate son,
LAFAYETTE.
I have arrived, for one moment, at Paris, my dear father, and have only time to bid you again farewell. I intended writing to my uncle~{2} and to Madame de Lusignem, but I am in such haste that I must request you to present to them my respectful regards.
Endnotes:
1. Jean Paul Francois de Noailles, Duke d'Ayen, afterwards Duke de Noailles, died a member of the House of Peers, in 1824, and was, as is well known, father-in-law to M. de Lafayette, who had been, we may say, brought up in the hotel de Noailles, and who looked upon all his wife's family as his own. It was at that time divided into two branches. The Marshal de Noailles, governor of Roussillon, and captain of the guards of the Scotch company, was the head of the eldest branch. He bad four children: the Duke d'Ayen, the Marquis de Noailles, and Mesdames de Tesse and de Lesparre. The Duke d'Ayen, a general officer, captain of the guards in reversion, married Henriette Anne Louise Daguesseau, by whom he had daughters only. The eldest, who died in 1794, on the same scaffold as her mother, had married her cousin, the Viscount de Noailles. The second, Marie Adrienne Françoise,—born the 2nd November, 1759, died the 24th December, 1807,—was Madame de Lafayette. The three others, unmarried at the time this letter was written, married afterwards MM. de Thésan, de Montagu, and de Grammont.
The head of the younger branch of the familv of Noailles was the Marshal de Mouchy, brother of the Marshal de Noailles, whose children were, the Prince de Poix, who died peer of France, and captain of the guards under the restoration; the Duchess de Duras; and the same Viscount de Noailles, member of the constituent assembly, who died of his wounds in the expedition to St. Domingo, in 1802.
2. M. de Lusignem, an uncle by marriage of M. de Lafayette.
TO MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.
On board the Victory, May 30th, 1777.
I am writing to you from a great distance, my dearest love, and, in addition to this painful circumstance, I feel also the still more dreadful uncertainty of the time in which I may receive any news of you. I hope, however, soon to have a letter from you; and, amongst the various reasons which render me so desirous of a speedy arrival, this is the one which excites in me the greatest degree of impatience. How many fears and anxieties enhance the keen anguish I feel at being separated from all that I love most fondly in the world! How have you borne my second departure? have you loved me less? have you pardoned me? have you reflected that, at all events, I must equally have been parted from you,—wandering about in Italy,~{1} dragging on an inglorious life, surrounded by the persons most opposed to my projects, and to my manner of thinking? All these reflections did not prevent my experiencing the most bitter grief when the moment arrived for quitting my native shore. Your sorrow, that of my friends, Henrietta,~{2} all rushed upon my thoughts, and my heart was torn by a thousand painful feelings. I could not at that instant find any excuse for my own conduct. If you could know all that I have suffered, and the melancholy days that I have passed, whilst thus flying from all that I love best in the World! Must I join to this affliction the grief of hearing that you do not pardon me? I should, in truth, my love, be too unhappy. But I am not speaking to you of myself and of my health, and I well know that these details will deeply interest you.