For each of the three protagonists, the intricacies of identity play a prominent role in their ability to pursue their varied aims, as certain names provide them with a measure of agency and power that society would otherwise deny them. For Adrienne, her family names are instrumental to her social standing, her inheritance as a noble, and her faithful and unflinching commitment to her husband. By default, Adrienne has never known a day when her family name, Noailles, has not provided her with privileges and respect. As she notes when Gilbert despairs over the mockery that his lesser status inspires at court, “[H]is marriage to me […] made him a somebody. And we were invited to every royal function” (76). However, unlike Gilbert, who eventually comes to make his own name synonymous with the notion of freedom, Adrienne’s family name lends her an inherited social power that ironically becomes a liability when her association with the nobility makes her a target during the uprising in France. Likewise, her marriage to Gilbert and her adoption of his last name increase her social standing, but they also become harbingers of danger and violence when the name of Lafayette garners both reverence and hatred throughout the French Revolution. Yet while “de Noailles” and “Lafayette” are names that Adrienne obtains through civil institutions like marriage, they are nonetheless instrumental to the core of her being, as is demonstrated when she refuses the safety she is offered in exchange for divorcing Gilbert and abandoning his name; she reflects, “Lafayette was a name […] that meant everything to me. […] So I signed in large letters and bold ink what might be my death sentence: la femme Lafayette” (404). This passage

emphasizes Adrienne’s belief in the power of the Lafayette name, for she boldly removes her own first name from her signature to make a larger political statement. Thus, the name of Lafayette in Adrienne’s eyes comes to represent the ideals that she and her husband have staunchly fought for.

For Beatrice, however, the power of names is engrained in the name she chooses for herself. For most of her life, Beatrice has been bequeathed names that never truly belonged to her—be it when she was a child named Minnie Ashley, whose last name wasn’t legally hers to have, or when she held the name Mrs. William Astor Chanler, which only highlighted her role as Willie’s wife. In fact, in most cases, the names she is given are a burden to her development, as they imply a connection to a man whose identity supersedes her own achievements. As Beatrice states, “It had also been a harsh lesson that no success of my own—no accomplishment, honor, or merit—would ever open as many doors for me as Willie’s name” (173). This declaration only makes Beatrice’s claim upon the only name she chose for herself—Beatrice—that much more meaningful. Significantly, from the end of World War I and onward, she insists on being called “Madame Beatrice” rather than the traditional format of “Madame” in conjunction with her family’s name. This decision signals a growth in Beatrice’s development, as she refuses to subordinate her own identity to that of the role she plays for the men in her life. Thus, whether the protagonists’ names are chosen or inherited, Dray suggests that names have the power to actualize and advertise the core tenants of a person.