CHAPTER 8
Paris was abuzz with revelry on the day of Lafayette’s return, but Lafayette was not the man of honor, who, as it happens, was a rather more diminutive figure. Marie Antoinette, who had produced only one daughter in her first eleven years of marriage, had at last given birth to a son—an heir to the throne—on October 22, 1781. When Lafayette reached Paris on January 21, 1782, the city was celebrating the three-month-old dauphin. In the morning, the queen attended services at two different churches, but the king arrived late; the streets were so densely packed with crowds that His Majesty’s carriage got stuck in traffic. In the afternoon, the notables of the city toasted the future of the royal family at a grand feast at the Hôtel de Ville (city hall). At dusk, a show of fireworks lured the banqueters away from their postprandial gaming tables, if only long enough to behold the display.
Had Lafayette been any less renowned, his star would have been eclipsed. As it was, the royal fete only added to the brilliance of his return. Adrienne was not at home when Lafayette reached the Hôtel de Noailles. She had gone to the Hôtel de Ville with the rest of her family, but she’d apparently left in more exalted company. Upon the close of the festivities, Marie Antoinette bestowed a tremendous honor upon the marquise by permitting her to ride home in one of the royal carriages. The entire procession, including the carriages of the king and queen, accompanied Adrienne to the door of the Hôtel de Noailles, where they drew to a halt. The revelers gazed out from their vehicles as Adrienne descended from her coach and was reunited with her husband. She promptly collapsed into his arms.
To the author of Correspondance secrète, politique et littéraire—one of the clandestine serials that spread celebrity news and court gossip to the capitals of Europe in the late eighteenth century—the unprecedented scene of a monarch offering a noblewoman a ride home was not so much a mark of Lafayette’s stature as a sign of Marie Antoinette’s grace. As to Lafayette, the newsletter poked gentle fun at the young man who had grown accustomed to having his every arrival and departure cheered by groups of admiring Americans. The anonymous author deadpanned that, because Lafayette had reached Paris at a moment when everyone who was anyone was otherwise occupied, he must have been greeted by “a large and joyous group of fishwives” who gathered at the entrance to the stately Hôtel de Noailles bearing branches of laurel as offerings to the victorious major general. Marketwomen would certainly have been the only people in town with nothing better to do that day, but how they had gotten word of Lafayette’s imminent arrival remained, the author implied, a mystery.
After spending the better part of four years as a symbol of France in America, Lafayette was about to embark on a career as an American representative in France. The congressional resolution James Madison wrote into the record on November 23, 1781, went far beyond granting Lafayette a furlough. After approving Lafayette’s leave of absence and commending him for “his conduct throughout the past campaign, and particularly during the period in which he had the chief command in Virginia,” Congress conferred a new set of duties upon the marquis. “The ministers plenipotentiary of the United States” in Europe were instructed to “confer with the Marquis de la Fayette, and avail themselves of his informations relative to the situation of public affairs in the United States.” The minister plenipotentiary to the court of Versailles, Benjamin Franklin, was further directed to “conform to the intention of Congress by consulting with and employing the assistance of the Marquis de la Fayette in accelerating the supplies which may be afforded by his Most Christian Majesty for the use of the United States.” Finally, the American “superintendant of finance, Secretary for foreign affairs and the board of war” were asked to help further these goals by keeping Lafayette apprised of developments “touching the affairs of their respective departments.”
Based on the resolution’s wording, it seems that Congress might have envisioned an advisory role for Lafayette. Having demonstrated at every turn that his devotion to the United States ran as deep as his love for France, Lafayette had surely earned the right to be consulted on matters concerning both nations. But Lafayette construed his position somewhat more expansively. Although he often worked closely with Franklin, he felt entirely comfortable taking matters into his own hands, and he routinely acted on America’s behalf without prior approval from Congress. Over the course of the next two years, he devised his own diplomatic assignments, proffered political advice on matters both foreign and domestic (whether or not his opinion had been sought), and always made it a point to spread news of his American efforts. In short, serving as America’s foremost friend in Paris and Versailles became more than a pastime for Lafayette—it was even more than a career. The nation that had welcomed him so warmly occupied a place near to his heart and was his driving passion.
One of the first tasks Lafayette set for himself was fostering trade between France and the United States. Although he had no prior experience in the field of commerce—and no one on either side appears to have asked him to address this particular problem—Lafayette did possess a keen sense of both countries’ needs and was willing to do the work required to meet them. America, newly liberated from the economic yoke of Great Britain, was striving to build up both its domestic manufacturing and its capacity to exchange goods throughout the globe. Matters ranging from the navigation of inland waterways to international trade agreements ranked high on the agendas of the young nation’s legislators, diplomats, farmers, sailors, and merchants. France, for its part, hoped to profit from its investments in the American war by securing advantageous trade relations with the new nation while driving an economic wedge between Great Britain and its former colonies.
Lafayette devoted much of 1782 and 1783 to studying the intricate details of transatlantic commerce. Writing to Washington in November 1783, he explained that he had been “Collecting the Opinions of Every American Merchant Within My Reach” so that he could better understand their wishes. By December, he had completed his “Observations on Commerce between France and the United States,” filling twelve octavo pages with arguments designed to persuade Vergennes of the advantages to be gained by granting commercial concessions to the United States. “Since we are rivals of the British in both our manufactured goods and our sea trade,” Lafayette wrote, “it is by these very means that our political rivalry will be decided someday.” He was not telling Vergennes anything new, but Lafayette hoped that he might be able to help hasten the pace of a cumbersome bureaucracy, arguing that “each delay, each mistake becomes a sure gain for England.”
Having lived in the comparatively pared-down manner of the New World, Lafayette understood that the finest French goods would appeal to only a select few Americans. The French would have to create “a taste for our manufactures.” He was right to predict that “our broadcloth, our silks of every kind, our linens and fashionable clothing, etc. will find a considerable American market that with care can be further enlarged.” Although, at first, he believed that “the less refined [recherchées] manufactures will be closer to American taste,” he suggested that “we could cut the costs of our more refined manufactures by simplifying our methods.” Thinking, perhaps, of English factories like Etruria, where Josiah Wedgwood had introduced a division of labor to boost efficiency, Lafayette suggested that “some industries would not lose by adopting the British principle that employs one person for each task, and for each task only the necessary amount of energy.”
More daunting was the project of increasing American imports into France, where the protectionist practices of mercantilism imposed hefty taxes on foreign-made goods. Yet Lafayette, who was never easily dissuaded, accepted the challenge. He took part in extensive negotiations that resulted in the creation of four “free ports,” where items arriving on American ships would be exempt from all duties and prohibitions, and throughout the 1780s he hammered away at efforts to open up the French market for American goods ranging from timber to whale oil. Some commodities, notably tobacco, posed particular difficulties: the farmers general, as the king’s tax collectors were known, enjoyed a near monopoly over the sale of tobacco, and they were not pleased at the prospect of a sudden spike in supply; nor did they welcome the idea of American merchants competing for clients. Still, through sheer persistence, Lafayette and his American colleagues managed to wrest some concessions even on this thorny issue.
Having begun to see commerce from an American perspective, Lafayette developed a keen ability to observe and articulate some of the fundamental differences that bedeviled French-American relations. Summing up a sentiment shared by many in the United States, Lafayette’s “Observations” insisted that the French way of doing business “has driven American trade away.” The text asserted that “the intricacies of our regulations are even more annoying than their cost,” so that “time, so precious to a merchant, is as wasted over a slight obstacle as it would be over the most important matter.” Even Lafayette’s boundless enthusiasm could not completely bridge such ingrained cultural differences.
Lafayette had addressed his “Observations” to Vergennes and sent copies to the French and American officials who were best situated to act upon his recommendations, but he also had a larger audience in mind: the American people. For Lafayette, it was not enough that he act tirelessly on behalf of his adopted country; it was important that those actions be widely known. As he confessed to Robert R. Livingston, secretary for foreign affairs, in a letter written in February 1783, “I Have a Great Value for My American Popularity, and I Want the people at large to know My Affection to them, and My zeal for their Service.” The “Best Way” to publicize his efforts, he suggested to Livingston, would be “to Have a Resolve of Congress Published” announcing its “Approbation” of his efforts on behalf of the United States. To spread the word about his “Observations on Commerce,” Lafayette turned to James McHenry, a former aide-de-camp who was then serving simultaneously in the Maryland state legislature and theContinental Congress. In a letter of December 26, 1783, enclosed with a copy of the document, Lafayette asked if McHenry would please “Be so kind only as to take Care My Commercial efforts Be known in America.”
In placing a high value on his reputation, Lafayette was hardly alone. Honor, which had long ranked among the most treasured possessions of the French nobility, came to be increasingly understood in the eighteenth century as inseparable from notions of bothmerit and esteem. Americans, too, recognized the incomparable worth of a man’s public name. In a 1780 letter to the Patriot author Mercy Otis Warren, Abigail Adams had expressed concern about unfounded rumors that accused John Adams of conspiring with the British. “I sometimes contemplate the situation of my absent Friend,” Abigail wrote of John, “… as the most critical and hazardous Embassy to his reputation, his honour, and I know not but I may add life, that could possibly have been entrusted to him.” So highly did America’s founders think of public reputation that, in The Federalist Papers, Alexander Hamilton wrote of “the love of fame” as “the ruling passion of the noblest minds.” At the same time, as the Encyclopédie’s entry on “reputation” makes clear, being overly interested in garnering esteem was deemed a fault. The bulk of the entry is devoted to parsing the apparent contradiction in the fact that “nature strews approbation upon the marks of esteem that one is given; and yet it attaches a sort of stain to the appearance of seeking them out.” Propriety demanded recognizing the fine line between earning fame and seeming to pursue it too ardently or as an end in itself.
Cognizant of the distinction, Lafayette tried his best to tread carefully, although his enthusiasm for glory sometimes got the better of him. In his December 26 letter to McHenry, Lafayette explained that he wished to have his commercial efforts be made public, in part “Because that Entrusting Temper which You know me to be possessed of, Now and then is Altered By the Selfishness of others.” Lafayette evidently felt that he had been given short shrift in the version of events provided by Franklin, Jay, and Adams concerning a loan of 6 million livres that France had made to the United States. Refraining from his habitual use of the first-person plural “we” in writing of Americans, Lafayette noted “that Your plenipotentiarie’s letters, rather Gave a Ground to think I Have not Been so Active as they in obtaining the last six millions.” Correcting the record, he added that “I cannot help remembering that Jay and Adams Never Went to Versailles But twice, I think, when I pushed them to it.” By spreading word of the “Observations on Commerce,” Lafayette implied, McHenry could help right a wrong. The American ministers, however, believed that Lafayette had developed a habit of claiming undue credit. John Adams’s diary entry of November 23, 1782, records a meeting with Lafayette at Franklin’s home in Passy. “The Marquis’s business,” wrote Adams, “was to shew us a letter he had written, to the C[omte] de V[ergennes], on the subject of money. This I saw nettled F[ranklin] as it seemed an attempt to take to himself the merit of obtaining the loan if one should be procured.”
Franklin, who could more than hold his own, makes no mention of feeling particularly “nettled,” but Adams was losing patience with Lafayette. In the same diary entry, Adams predicted that Lafayette’s “unlimited ambition will obstruct his rise. He grasps at all civil, political, and military, and would be thought the Unum necessarium in every thing.” Adams saw this habit of overreaching as a tragic flaw in the character of the marquis; it disappointed him. Lafayette “has so much real merit, such family supports, and so much favour at court,” Adams wrote, “that he need not recur to artifice.”
Adams had not always been so wary of Lafayette. In a 1780 letter to James Warren of Massachusetts—a fellow member of the Sons of Liberty and the husband of Mercy Otis Warren—Adams had declared Lafayette to be “the same Friend to Us here [in Paris] that he was in America. He has been very assiduous to procure Cloths and Arms for our Army, and to promote our Interest in every other Way, within his Circle.” But by 1782 Adams was struggling to wrest a modicum of respect from the Comte de Vergennes, who did nothing to disguise his preference for the more cosmopolitan (and less austere) Franklin, and Lafayette’s appearance on the stage of American diplomacy threatened to force Adams still further to the margins.
Adams was in Amsterdam, recovering slowly from a debilitating fever that had plagued him for months, when, on February 19, 1782, the congressional resolution granting Lafayette a role in American affairs reached him. His initial response was entirely polite: in a letter to Lafayette dated the following day, Adams proclaimed Congress’s instructions to be “so agreeable to my inclinations, that I would undertake a journey to Paris, for the sake of a personal interview with my dear general, if the state of my health, and the situation of affairs, in which I am here engaged did not render it improper.” But on April 16, 1783, he expressed a very different opinion. Writing to James Warren, Adams declared “the Instruction of Congress to their foreign Ministers to consult with” Lafayette to be “very ill Judged. It was lowering themselves & their Servants.” Indeed, it was “an Humiliation.” “As long as Congress insists on rendering America’s representatives subservient to the Marquis,” wrote Adams, “Your Ministers will never be respected, never have any Influence,” and “every Frenchman … will consider your Servants as mere Instruments in their Hands.” Adams was growing increasingly disillusioned with America’s French allies, whom he suspected of being willing to place their own interests ahead of America’s in any peace negotiations that might be forthcoming. Adams began to doubt the wisdom of placing so much faith in a man as young and as closely connected to the court as Lafayette, in whom he perceived “the Seeds of Mischief to our Country, if We do not take care.” The youth, he wrote, had “gained more applause than human Nature at 25 can bear. It has enkindled in him an unbounded Ambition, which it concerns Us much to watch.” While Adams acknowledged that Lafayette was “ardent to distinguish himself in every way, especially to increase his Merit towards America,” he warned that “this Mongrel Character of French Patriot and American Patriot cannot exist long.”
Adams was right to perceive in Lafayette a profound devotion to both France and America—this dual allegiance was clear to both nations—but he was wrong to fear that Lafayette might be dangerous or that his hybrid character could not be sustained. Lafayette was not a schemer. Rather, he was an idealist who seems not to have contemplated the possibility that Americans, much as they loved him, would always see him as a Frenchman or that the French court, while according him a grudging respect, would always be wary of his foreign allegiances. But where others saw divided loyalties, Lafayette’s clear conscience blinded him to all difficulties.
Untroubled as he was, Lafayette even imagined for a time that he might be an ideal person to represent the French government, with sufficient latitude to speak for the United States, at the ratification of any peace treaty with Great Britain. According to Benjamin Franklin’s journal, Lafayette began dropping hints during a visit to Passy in May 1782. Leaving Franklin to divine the purpose of the meeting, Lafayette recounted a tale of the Duc de Nevers, who, Lafayette reported, “during the Treaty at Paris for the last Peace,” in 1763, “had been sent to reside in London, that this Court might thro’ him state what was from time to time transacted, in the Light they thought best, to prevent Misrepresentations and Misunderstandings.” Eventually, it became clear to Franklin that this was no mere history lesson: Lafayette hoped to be granted a similar post. As Franklin recorded it, Lafayette explained that “such an Employ would be extremely agreeable to him on many Accounts; that as he was now an American Citizen, spoke both Languages, and was well acquainted with our Interests, he believ’d he might be useful in it.”
Franklin very much “lik’d the idea” of Lafayette going to London as a representative of France. To have a French diplomat in England with America’s interests at heart would grant the fledgling nation considerably more leverage than its own minister could exert. Franklin was so fond of the notion that he hosted a breakfast to introduce Lafayette to the British representatives Richard Oswald and Thomas Grenville, recently arrived to lay the groundwork for negotiations. With the preliminaries taken care of, on May 26, Lafayette and Franklin decided that the time was ripe to propose the arrangement to Vergennes. Unfortunately, Vergennes liked the idea quite a bit less; if France were to send an envoy to the Court of St. James’s, it would be one loyal to France alone.
But Lafayette would not be shunted aside. Although he played no formal role in the peace negotiations, mid-June found him haranguing Grenville with accusations that “the expectation of peace is a joke, and that you only amuse us without any real intention of treating.” Meanwhile, Lafayette continued to suggest ways that he might make himself useful in the political and diplomatic areas. In a private letter to Robert Livingston written on February 5, he proposed several options. For instance, he indicated that it “Would Highly flatter” him to be granted the “Honorary Commission” of bearing the peace treaty to England for ratification. Lafayette elaborated on this, noting that he would “Well Enough like to Present Myself there in the Capacity of an Extraordinary Envoy from the United States.”
Hoping to marshal support for the idea, Lafayette wrote to Washington, saying, “I Would take it as a Most flattering Circumstance in My life to Be Sent to England With the Ratification of the American treaty.” Ideally, Lafayette continued, he would like to reach London in advance of the American ambassador so that “I Would Have the pleasure of introducing Him.” As a stalwart friend, Washington dutifully wrote to Livingston of Lafayette’s request to serve as “the bearer of the Ratification.” Sage politician that he was, however, Washington refrained from endorsing too heartily the notion that any citizen of a foreign land, no matter how earnest, be permitted to represent America abroad. “How far it is consistent with our national honor, how far motives of policy make for or ag[ain]st sending a foreigner with it; or how far such a measure might disappoint the [ex]pectations of others, I pretend not to determine,” wrote Washington. He asked only that Livingston accede to Lafayette’s desire “if there is no impropriety, or injustice in it.”
Quite rightly, Livingston perceived multiple improprieties. He refused even to present Lafayette’s request to Congress, explaining to Washington that “the honor of the nation seems to require that it should be represented by a native … it should not appear to act under foreign influence.” More specifically, he warned that “too close a connection with France might render her foes jealous of us.” Washington offered no resistance. Instead, by way of reply, he assured Livingston that although “there is no Man upon Earth I have a greater inclination to serve than the Marquis La Fayette … ,” he had “not a wish to do it in matters that interfere with, or are repugnant to, our National policy, dignity, or interest.” Washington broke the news to his friend on October 12. Writing bluntly, Washington informed Lafayette that the “event” he desired “will not I apprehend, ever take place.” The question was put to rest for good when Congress affirmed, on March 16, 1784, “that it is inconsistent with the interest of the United States to appoint any person not a citizen thereof, to the office of Minister, chargé des affaires, Consul, vice-consul, or to any other civil department in a foreign country; and that a copy of this resolve be transmitted to Messrs. Adams, Franklin and Jay, ministers of the said states in Europe.” When John Adams learned of the congressional declaration, he must have felt at least a twinge of vindication.
While the Treaty of Paris was being ratified in London on April 9, 1784, Lafayette was at home preparing for his first visit to the free and independent United States of America, but John Adams remained skeptical of the Frenchman. A new bone of contention had arisen: the Society of the Cincinnati, a hereditary organization established in 1783 by a group of officers who had served under Washington. The society, which still exists today, was envisioned as a vehicle for reaffirming bonds of affection and obligation among the revolution’s longest-serving and most distinguished military leaders, and for ensuring that the sacrifices of the war would not be forgotten. According to their charter, the men who founded the Cincinnati intended:
to inculcate to the latest age the duty of laying down in peace, arms assumed for public defence, by forming an Institution which recognizes that most important principle; to continue the mutual friendships which commenced under the pressure of common danger; and to effectuate the acts of beneficence, dictated by the spirit of brotherly kindness towards those officers and their families.
Having risked their lives for the independence of the United States, most of the Cincinnati had stepped to the side to allow politicians to make the next moves toward forging an enduring republic; the society would ensure that the officers’ contributions to the nation’s founding would not be forgotten.
The society’s name honors a man whose virtue was widely known in the eighteenth century: the Roman general Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, who lived in the fifth century B.C. and whose story is told by Livy. Persuaded by the Senate to leave his farm long enough to lead Rome through a time of crisis, Cincinnatus served briefly as magister populi (literally, “master of the people”—a dictator appointed for a limited term) but refused the role of lifelong ruler and resumed his quiet existence of private industry. In 1783, when Washington laid down his sword and returned to his own fields at Mount Vernon, it became commonplace to link his name and image to those of Cincinnatus, and by dubbing themselves “Cincinnati,” Washington’s officers honored their general and announced that they, too, were relinquishing any claims to power by “returning to their citizenship.” Members were—and still are—entitled to purchase and wear “a bald eagle of gold … suspended by a deep blue ribbon edged with white, descriptive of the union of America and France,” its center featuring an enameled emblem depicting Cincinnatus at his plow.
Washington bequeathed this gold-and-enamel medal of the Society of Cincinnati to Lafayette. Measuring 1½ × 1⅛ inches, it sold at auction at Sotheby’s New York for $5.3 million on December 11, 2007. (illustration credit 8.1)
Lafayette was the society’s most prominent and enthusiastic French member. He had been the one to draw up a roster of French officers who fought under Washington. And in an event that merited several paragraphs in the Mémoires secrets (like theCorrespondance secrète, a newsletter that reported the goings-on in French society), he had welcomed fifteen of them to his home on January 16, 1784, for a ceremony at which he distributed the society’s golden eagle insignia, designed by Pierre Charles L’Enfant and produced by the Paris jewelry firm of Duval and Francastel. Lafayette even went into debt for the cause: L’Enfant left Paris for America without paying a jeweler’s bill that exceeded 20,000 livres—Francastel had provided the society’s gold and enamel eagles on credit—and Lafayette voluntarily shouldered the obligation.
Few disputed the comparison between Washington and Cincinnatus, and no one denied the nation’s obligations to its military heroes, but the notions that the Cincinnati would wear insignia reminiscent of the medals distributed by Europe’s chivalric orders and that its membership would be inherited made the society a lightning rod for controversy. Adams condemned the group for introducing hereditary titles in a nation that forbade them, and he (mistakenly) held Lafayette partially responsible for its existence. Writing from The Hague on January 25, 1784, Adams reported to the Baltimore-based businessman Matthew Ridley, “I have been informed that this whole Scheme, was first concerted, in France and transmitted from thence, by the Marquis.” Thomas Jefferson, too, disapproved mightily of the Society of the Cincinnati, making it one of the few topics on which Jefferson and Adams agreed. On April 16, 1784, Jefferson spelled out his objections in a letter to Washington that declared the society to be “against the confederation—against the letter of some of our constitutions;—against the spirit of all of them” because “the foundation on which all these are built is the natural equality of man, the denial of every preeminence but that annexed to legal office, & particularly the denial of a preeminence by birth.” Abigail Adams raised a more concrete concern in a letter to Mercy Otis Warren: Abigail hinted at the dangers of a permanent military class setting itself apart “that the people may look to them, and them only as the preservers of their Country and the supporters of their freedom.”
Lafayette seems to have been genuinely unsure what to make of such criticisms, which reached him both indirectly, through the rumor mill, and directly, in letters from Adams. Writing to Washington from Paris on March 9, Lafayette told his mentor that “most of the Americans Here are indecently Violent Against our Association.… You Easely guess I am not Remiss in opposing them—and However if it is found that the Heredity Endangers the true principles of democraty [sic], I am as Ready as Any Man to Renounce it.” He looked to Washington for guidance, adding, “You Will be My Compass.” Washington evidently saw nothing awry in the society: he accepted the role of its first president.
Lafayette’s embrace of the Cincinnati only increased the distrust felt by Adams, who had begun to suspect Lafayette’s motives in all things. In a testy letter written from The Hague on March 28, 1784, Adams told Lafayette that, “as to your going to America, Surely I have no Objection against it … but I questioned whether you would go, as the War was over, and I knew of no particular Motive you might have to go.” Adams concluded, “If you go I wish you a pleasant voyage, and an happy Sight of your Friends.” Lafayette was hurt. His English faltering, as it often did when he was in an emotional state, Lafayette rebuked Adams for the coolness of his tone and rejected the implication that his motives might be anything but pure:
A friendly letter I wrote You, and the One I Receive is not so affectionate as usual.… As to My Going to America, I first Went for the Revolution.… Now I am Going for the people, and My Motives are, that I love them, and they love me—that My Arrival will please them, and that I will Be Pleased with the sight of those whom I Have Early joined in our Noble and successfull cause.… How could I Refrain from Visiting a Nation whose I am an Adoptive Son … ?
Nearly eight weeks passed—an unusually long silence—before Lafayette wrote to Adams again. “Altho’ I have not Been Honoured with an answer to My last letter,” Lafayette began, “I will not loose time in Acquainting you that My departure from l’Orient is fixed on the 22d instant.” Lafayette held out an olive branch, offering to deliver any letters that Adams might wish to send to Massachusetts. “As I intend landing in New York,” he explained, “your letters to your family will not Have a long way to go.” But Adams would not be mollified. Making no excuses, he replied flatly that he had “received in Season, the Letter mentioned in yours of the second of this Months, but as there was nothing in it which required an immediate Answer, I have not acknowledged the Recipt of it, untill now.” Adams added that he had no need of Lafayette’s postal services. Referring to two Americans then traveling in Europe, he informed Lafayette that “I will answer the Letters of my Friends by Mr. Reed and Coll. Herman.” Lafayette, who genuinely wished to make amends, sent one more letter to Adams before sailing for New York. As far as we know, it went unanswered.