CHAPTER VIII.
Dreadful Scenes of the French Revolution—M. Carrichon’s Account of the Last Days of the Maréchale de Noailles, the Duchesse d’Ayen, and the Vicomtesse de Noailles—They are sent to the Luxembourg—Are taken before the Revolutionary Tribunal—Their Condemnation—Heroism of the Young Vicomtesse de Noailles—The Insulting Mob—The Protecting Thunder Storm—Their Last Prayers—Arrival at the Scaffold—Their Impressive Appearance—Their Unflinching Courage—Their Heavenly Resignation—The Last Farewell—Execution of the aged Maréchale de Noailles—The Duchesse d’Ayen upon the Scaffold—Angelic Appearance of the Vicomtesse de Noailles—The Last End—Virginie La Fayette’s Narrative—Her Brother, George Washington La Fayette, sent to America—Letter from Madame La Fayette to Washington—Madame La Fayette and her Daughters obtain Permission to share the Captivity of the General—Their Arrival at Olmütz—The Pathetic Meeting—Letter from Madame La Fayette—Virginie describes their Prison Life—Letter from Madame La Fayette to the Emperor—Her Illness—Ignominious Offer of Liberty—La Fayette declines to accept the Shameful Conditions—General Bonaparte opens their Prison Doors—La Fayette’s Letter to Napoleon—Letter from Madame de Staël—Efforts in Behalf of La Fayette in England and America—La Fayette’s Letter to Joseph Masclet—Madame La Fayette’s Letter to Washington—Washington’s Letter to the Emperor of Germany in Behalf of the Marquis—General Latour-Maubourg describes Prison Life at Olmütz—La Fayette’s Unconquered Spirit—Washington’s Letter to him at the Time of his Release—La Fayette’s Letter to Masclet.
“O Liberty! Liberty! how many crimes are committed in thy
name!”—Madame Roland.
THE dreadful scenes of the French Revolution send a chill of horror to our souls as we read of them, but we realize with more painful clearness the direful deeds of those bloody days when some eye-witness of those awful, heart-rending times pictures for us some individual doom and some particular scene. The following narrative of the death of Mesdames d’Ayen and de Noailles by M. Carrichon, priest of the congregation of the Oratory, will give a most vivid idea of the sufferings of these women, who, with Madame de La Fayette, must be classed amongst the most illustrious heroines of the French Revolution.
“The Maréchale de Noailles, the Duchesse d’Ayen, her daughter-in-law, and the Vicomtesse de Noailles, her granddaughter, were detained prisoners in their own house from November, 1793, till April, 1794. The first I only knew by sight, but was well acquainted with the two others, whom I generally visited once a week.
“Terror and crime were increasing together; victims were becoming more numerous. One day, as the ladies were exhorting each other to prepare for death, I said to them, as by foresight: ‘If you go to the scaffold, and if God gives me strength to do so, I shall accompany you.’
“They took me at my word, and eagerly exclaimed: ‘Will you promise to do so?’ For one moment I hesitated; ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘and so that you may easily recognize me, I will wear a dark blue coat and a red waistcoat.’ After that they often reminded me of my promise.
“In the month of April, 1794, during Easter week, they were all three conveyed to the Luxembourg. I had frequent accounts of them through M. Grellet, whose delicate attentions and zealous services were of such service both to them and to their children. I was often reminded of my promise.
“On the 27th of June, on a Monday or a Friday, he came to beg of me to fulfil the engagement I had taken with the Maréchal de Mouchy and his wife.
“I went to the Palais de Justice, and succeeded in entering the court. I stood very near, with my eyes fixed upon them during a quarter of an hour. M. and Madame de Mouchy, whom I had only seen once at their own house, and whom I knew better than they knew me, could not distinguish me in the crowd. God inspired me, and with His help I did all I could for them. The Maréchal was singularly edifying, and prayed aloud with all his heart.
“The day before, on leaving the Luxembourg, he had said to those who had given him marks of sympathy: ‘At seventeen years of age I entered the breach for my king; at seventy-seven I mount the scaffold for my God; my friends, I am not to be pitied.’
“I avoid details which would become interminable. That day I thought it useless to go as far as the guillotine; besides, my courage failed me. This was ominous for the fulfilment of the promise I had made to their relations, who were thrown into the deepest affliction by this catastrophe. They had all been confined in the same prison, and had thus been of great comfort to each other.
“I could say much about the numerous and dismal processions which preceded or followed that of the 27th, and which were happy or miserable according to the state of mind of those who composed them; sad they always were, even when every exterior sign denoted resignation, and promised a Christian death; but truly heart-rending when the doomed victims had none of these feelings, and seemed about to pass from the sufferings of this world to those of the next.
“On the 22d of July, 1794, on a Tuesday, between eight and ten o’clock in the morning, I was just going out. I heard a knock. I opened the door and saw the Noailles children with their tutor, M. Grellet. The children were cheerful, as is usually the case at that age, but under their merriment was concealed a sadness of heart caused by their recent losses and by their fears for the future. The tutor looked sad, careworn, pale, and haggard. ‘Let us go to your study,’ he said, ‘and leave the children in this room.’ We did so. He threw himself on a chair. ‘All is over, my friend,’ he said; ‘the ladies are before the Revolutionary Tribunal. I summon you to keep your word. I shall take the boys to Vincennes to see little Euphémie [their sister]. While in the wood I shall prepare these unfortunate children for their terrible loss.’
“Although I had long been prepared for this news, I was greatly shocked. The frightful situation of the parents, of the children, of their worthy tutor, that youthful mirth so soon to be followed by such misery, poor little Euphémie, then only four years old,—all these thoughts rushed upon my mind. But I soon recovered myself, and after a few questions and answers full of mournful details, I said to M. Grellet, ‘You must go now, and I must change my dress. What a task I have before me! pray that God may give me strength to accomplish it.’
“We rose, and found the children innocently amusing themselves, looking gay and happy. The sight of them, the thought of their unconsciousness of what they were so soon to learn, and of the interview which would follow with their little sister, rendered the contrast more striking, and almost broke my heart.
“Left alone after their departure, I felt terrified and exhausted. ‘My God, have pity on them and on me!’ I exclaimed. I changed my clothes and went to two or three places. With a heavy load on my heart, I turned my steps towards the Palais de Justice, between one and two o’clock in the afternoon. I tried to get in, but found it impossible. I made inquiries of a person who had just left the tribunal. I still doubted the truth of the news which had been told me. But the answer destroyed all illusion and all hope; I could doubt no longer.
“Once more I went on my way and turned my steps towards the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. What thoughts, what agitation, what secret terrors distracted my poor brain! I opened my heart to a friend whom I could trust, and who, speaking to me in God’s name, strengthened my courage. At his house I took some coffee, which seemed to relieve my head.
“Thoughtful and irresolute, I slowly retraced my steps towards the Palais de Justice, dreading to get there, and hoping not to find those whom I was seeking. I arrived before five o’clock. There were no signs of departure. Sick at heart, I ascended the steps of the Sainte Chapelle; then I walked into the grande salle, and wandered about. I sat down, I rose again, but spoke to no one. From time to time I cast a melancholy glance towards the courtyard, to see if there were any signs of departure.
“My constant thought was that in two hours, perhaps in one, they would be no more. I cannot say how overwhelmed I was by that idea, which has affected me through life on all such occasions, and they have only been too frequent. While a prey to these mournful feelings, never did an hour appear to me so long or so short as the one which elapsed between five and six o’clock on that day. Conflicting thoughts were incessantly crossing my mind, which made me suddenly pass from the illusions of vain hope to fears, alas! too well founded.
SENTENCED TO THE GUILLOTINE.
“At last I saw, by a movement in the crowd, that the prison door was on the point of being opened. I went down and placed myself near the outer gate, as for the previous fortnight it had become impossible to enter the prison yard. The first cart was filled with prisoners, and came towards me. It was occupied by eight ladies, whose demeanor was most admirable. Of these, seven were unknown to me. The last, who was very near me, was the Maréchale de Noailles. A transient ray of hope crossed my mind when I saw that her daughter-in-law and her granddaughter were not with her; but alas! they were in the second cart.
“Madame de Noailles was in white; she did not appear more than twenty-four years of age; Madame d’Ayen, who looked about forty, wore a dress striped blue and white. Six men got in after them. I was pleased to see the respectful distance at which the two first placed themselves so as to leave more liberty to the ladies. They were scarcely seated when the mother became the object of that tender solicitude for which her daughter was well known.
“I heard it said near me, ‘Look at that young one! how anxious she seems! See how she is speaking to the other one!’ For my part I felt as if I heard all they were saying: ‘Mamma, he is not there.’ ‘Look again.’ ‘Nothing escapes me; I assure you, mamma, he is not there.’
“They had evidently forgotten that I had sent them word that it would be impossible for me to gain admittance into the prison yard. The first cart stopped before me during at least a quarter of an hour. It moved on; the second followed. I approached the ladies; they did not see me. I went again into the Palais de Justice, and then a long way round, and stood at the entrance of the Pont-au-Change, in a prominent place. Madame de Noailles cast her eyes around her; she passed and did not see me. I followed the carts over the bridge, and thus kept near the ladies, though separated from them by the crowd. Madame de Noailles, still looking for me, did not perceive me. Madame d’Ayen’s anxiety became visible on her countenance. Her daughter watched the crowd with increasing attention, but in vain. I felt tempted to turn back. ‘Have I not done all that I could?’ I inwardly exclaimed. ‘Everywhere the crowd will be greater; it is useless to go any farther.’ I was on the point of giving up the attempt.
“Suddenly the sky became overclouded; thunder was heard in the distance; I made a fresh effort. A short cut brought me, before the arrival of the carts, to the Rue Saint-Antoine, nearly opposite the too famous Force. At that moment the storm broke forth. The wind blew violently; flashes of lightning and claps of thunder followed in rapid succession; the rain poured down in torrents. I took shelter at a shop door. The spot is always present to my memory, and I have never passed it by since without emotion. In one moment the street was cleared; the crowd had taken refuge in the shops and gateways. There was less order in the procession, both the escort and the carts having quickened their pace. They were close to the Petit Saint-Antoine, and I was still undecided. The first cart passed. By a precipitous and involuntary movement I quitted the shop door, rushed towards the second cart, and found myself close to the ladies. Madame de Noailles perceived me, and smiling, seemed to say, ‘There you are at last? How happy we are to see you! How we have looked for you! Mamma, there he is.’ Madame d’Ayen appeared to revive. As for myself, all irresolution vanished from my mind. By the grace of God I felt possessed of extraordinary courage. Soaked with rain and perspiration, I continued to walk by them. On the steps of the church of Saint-Louis I met a friend, who, filled with respect and attachment for the ladies, was endeavoring to give them the same assistance. His countenance, his attitude, showed what he felt. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and shuddering, said, ‘Good evening, my dear friend.’
“The storm was at its height. The wind blew tempestuously, and greatly annoyed the ladies in the first cart, more especially the Maréchale de Noailles. With her hands tied behind her, with no support for her back, she tottered on the wretched plank upon which she was placed. Her large cap fell back and exposed to view some gray hairs. Immediately a number of people who were gathered there notwithstanding the rain, having recognized her, she became the sole object of their attention. They added by their insults to the sufferings she was enduring so patiently. ‘There she is,’ they cried, ‘that Maréchale who used to go about with so many attendants, driving in such fine coaches; there she is in the cart just like the others.’ The shouts continued, the sky became darker, the rain fell heavier still. We were close to the cross-road preceding the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. I went forward, examined the spot, and said to myself, ‘This is the place for granting them what they so much long for.’
“The cart was going slower. I turned towards the ladies and made a sign which Madame de Noailles understood perfectly. ‘Mamma, M. Carrichon is going to give us absolution,’ she evidently whispered. They piously bowed their heads with a look of repentance, contrition, and hope. Then I lifted up my hand, and without uncovering my head, pronounced the form of absolution and the words which follow it very distinctly and with supernatural attention. Never shall I forget the expression of their faces. From that moment the storm abated, the rain diminished, and seemed only to have fallen for the furtherance of our wishes. I offered up my thanks to God, and so did, I am sure, these pious women. Their exterior appearance spoke contentment, security, and joy.
“As we advanced through the ‘Faubourg,’ the rain having ceased, a curious multitude again lined the two sides of the street, insulting the ladies in the first cart, but above all the Maréchale. Nothing was said to the others. I sometimes walked by the side of the carts and sometimes preceded them.
“At last we reached the fatal spot. I cannot describe what I felt. What a moment! what a separation! what an affliction for the children, husbands, sisters, relations, and friends who are to survive those beloved ones in this valley of tears! There they are before me full of health, and in one moment I shall see them no more. What anguish! yet not without deep consolation at beholding them so resigned.
“We came in sight of the scaffold. The carts stopped, and were immediately surrounded by the soldiers. A ring of numerous spectators was soon formed, most of whom were laughing and amusing themselves at the horrible sight. It was dreadful to be amongst them!
“While the executioners and his two assistants were helping the prisoners out of the first cart, Madame de Noailles’ eyes sought for me in the crowd. She caught sight of me. What a wonderful expression there was in her face! Sometimes raised towards heaven, sometimes lowered towards earth, her eyes so animated, so gentle, so expressive, so heavenly, were often fixed on me in a manner which would have attracted notice if those around me had had time for observation. I pulled my hat over my eyes, without taking them off her. I felt as if I could hear her say: ‘Our sacrifice is accomplished! we have the firm and comforting hope that a merciful God is calling us to Him. How many dear to us we leave behind! but we shall forget no one. Farewell to them and thanks to you! Jesus Christ who died for us is our strength; may we die in Him! Farewell! May we all meet again in heaven!’
“It is impossible to give an idea of the animation and fervor of those signs, the eloquence of which was so touching that the bystanders exclaimed: ‘Oh, that young woman, how happy she seems! how she looks up to heaven! how she is praying! But what is the use of it all?’ And then, on second thoughts, ‘Oh, the rascals! the bigots!’
“The mother and daughter took a last farewell of each other and descended from the cart. As for me, the outer world disappeared for a moment. At once broken-hearted and comforted, I could only return thanks to God for not having waited for this moment to give them absolution, or, which would have been still worse, delayed it till they had ascended the scaffold. We could not have joined in prayer while I gave and they received this great blessing as we had been enabled to do in the most favorable circumstances possible at such a time. I left the spot where I was standing and went over to the other side while the victims were getting out. I found myself opposite the wooden steps which led to the scaffold. An old man, tall and straight, with white hair and a good-natured countenance, was leaning against it. I was told he was a fermier-general. Near him stood a very edifying lady whom I did not know. Then came the Maréchale de Noailles exactly opposite me, dressed in black, for she was still in mourning for her husband. She was sitting on a block of wood or stone which happened to be there, her large eyes fixed with a vacant look. I had not omitted to do for her what I had done for so many, and in particular for the Maréchal and Maréchale de Mouchy. All the others were drawn up in two lines looking towards the Faubourg Saint-Antoine.
“From where I stood I could only perceive Madame d’Ayen, whose attitude and countenance expressed the most sublime, unaffected, and devout resignation. She seemed only occupied with the sacrifice she was about to make to God through the merits of the Saviour, his divine Son. She looked as she was wont to do when she had the happiness of approaching the altar for holy communion. I shall never forget the impression she made on me at that moment. It is often in my thoughts. God grant that I may profit by it!
The Maréchale de Noailles was the third person who ascended the scaffold. The upper part of her dress had to be cut away in order to uncover her throat. I was impatient to leave the place, but yet I wished to drink the cup of bitterness to the dregs and to keep my promise, as God was giving me strength to do so, even in the midst of my shuddering horror. Six ladies followed; Madame d’Ayen was the tenth. How happy she seemed to die before her daughter! The executioner tore off her cap. As it was fastened with a pin which he had forgotten to remove, he pulled her hair violently; and the pain he caused was visible on her countenance.
“The mother disappeared; the daughter took her place. What a sight to behold that young creature, all in white, looking still younger than she really was, like a gentle lamb going to the slaughter! I fancied I was witnessing the martyrdom of one of the young virgins or holy women whom we read of in the history of the Church. What had happened to the mother also happened to her; the same pain in the removal of the cap; then the same composure and the same death. Oh, the abundant crimson stream that gushed from the head and neck! ‘How happy she is now!’ I thought, as the body was thrown into the frightful coffin.
“It would appear that Madame de Noailles, as well as her mother, had exhorted her fellow-victims, and amongst them a young man whom she heard blaspheming. As she was ascending the scaffold, she turned towards him and said, ‘En grâce, Monsieur, dites, “Pardon.”’
“May Almighty God in his mercy bestow on the members of that family all the blessings which I ask and entreat them to ask for mine! May we all be saved with those who have gone before us to that happy dwelling where revolutions are unknown; to that abode which, according to the words of Saint Augustine, has Truth for its king, Charity for its law, and will endure for Eternity.”
Once more we return to the account of Virginie La Fayette, Marquise de Lasteyrie:—
“For some time after the 10th of Thermidor, the prisoners still considered themselves as being between life and death. The massacres had ceased; but they might be renewed. My mother received frequent visits from M. Carrichon, the holy priest who had accompanied my grandmother and my aunt to the foot of the scaffold, who had given them absolution, and had witnessed their sacrifice. You can imagine all she felt on hearing the admirable details he gave her of the last moments of those angelic women.
“Meanwhile, the endeavors to obtain my mother’s release were incessant. The American minister continued indefatigable in his exertions. At last the members of the Committee gave an order for her release.
“My mother’s first care was to go and thank M. Monroe for all he had done in her behalf.
“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:—
“‘Blessed be God that liveth forever, and blessed be His kingdom, for He doth scourge and hath mercy; He leadeth down to hell, and bringeth up again; neither is there any that can avoid His hand. Confess Him before the Gentiles, ye children of Israel: for He hath scattered us among them. There declare his greatness, and extol Him before all the living; for He is our Lord, and He is the God our Father forever. And He will scourge us for our iniquities, and will have mercy again, and will gather us out of all nations, among whom He has scattered us. Therefore see what He will do with you, and confess Him with your whole mouth, and praise the Lord of might, and extol the everlasting King. Let my soul bless God the great King.’
“We drove to the house of the commander of the town. He sent the officer in charge of the prison to conduct us. After having been admitted through the first door, which was locked on the guard itself, we arrived, by passing through several long passages, to the two padlocked doors of my father’s room. My father had not been informed of our arrival. Three years of captivity, the last of which had been passed in complete solitude,—for, since the attempt at escape, he had not even seen his servant,—continual anxiety with respect to all the objects of his affection, sufferings of every kind, had deeply impaired his health; he was fearfully altered. My mother was struck with the change, but nothing could diminish the rapture of her joy, save the bitterness of her irreparable losses. My father, after the first moment of happiness caused by this unexpected meeting, dared not make any inquiries. He knew there had been a reign of terror in France, but he had not learned the names of the victims. The day passed without his venturing to ask any question; my mother had not courage enough to break the subject herself. It was only in the evening, after we had been locked in an adjoining but separate room, which had been assigned to my sister and myself, that she told my father that her grandmother, her mother, and her sister had perished on the scaffold.”
Madame La Fayette wrote thus to her aunt, when reunited to her husband:—
“Thanks to your good advice, dear aunt, I have attained my wishes. If I had been known, I could never have entered the Austrian dominions; and if I had not kept very quiet at Vienna until M. de Rosemberg had arranged my audience, I should never have succeeded. The emperor very politely granted us permission to be imprisoned with M. de La Fayette, and said at the same time that the affair was very complicated, and did not depend on him alone; but he assured us he should be well treated, and that our presence serait un agrément de plus.... Fancy the feelings of M. de La Fayette, who for eighteen months had not been permitted to learn even if we existed, and who had seen no one but his jailers, when, without any preparation, we entered his room....
“Would you like to know the sort of life we lead here? At eight o’clock the jailers call us to breakfast, after which I am locked up with my little girls till midday. We all dine together, and the turnkey comes in twice, to take away the dishes, and to bring in supper. We are all together until eight o’clock, when they carry off my little girls to their cage. The keys of their room are always delivered to the commandant, and they are locked in with all sorts of absurd precautions. We three pay for our food out of my money. We have more than we can eat, but inexpressibly dirty.... It is a great blessing to us both that the children keep well in this unwholesome place. My own health is not very good ... but nothing to make me uneasy. Of course you feel that nothing could induce us to leave M. de La Fayette. His health is really improved since our arrival. His terrible emaciation and pallor are the same, though both his keepers and himself assure me that they are nothing like what they were a year ago. But no one can go through four years of such captivity with impunity. I have not been able to see his fellow-captives, Messieurs de Maubourg and de Pusy, nor even to hear their voices; from the age one of their late keepers supposed them to be they must have grown terribly older.”
“You know the details of our captivity at Olmütz,” writes Virginie; “my mother shared in all its hardships. We had not the slightest intercourse with the outside. The doors were only opened for the officer’s visit at meal time. We were refused a woman for household work. On entering the prison we were asked for our purses, and three silver forks found in our luggage were seized. The use of a knife and fork was refused us, and we were obliged, during the whole time, to eat with our fingers. My mother applied to the authorities on all these subjects, but all her requests were refused.
“My mother deeply felt the grief of being unable to alleviate the sufferings of her companions in captivity. But as for herself, no words could express her happiness. You can only imagine it by remembering what was the ruling passion of her life from the age of fourteen, and how much she had gone through from frequent separations and incessant labors which had so constantly called my father from his home, as from the great dangers to which he had been exposed. She had passed three horrible years almost without a hope of ever seeing him again. At last she possessed that happiness which, during all her life, she had been longing for; each day she beheld the influence of her presence on my father’s health, and the solace she afforded him; she was surprised at feeling so happy, and reproached herself for being satisfied with her situation while my father was still a prisoner. She was allowed now and then to write, under the eyes of the officer on duty, short unsealed letters to the banker, who remitted the money necessary for our food. Permission to write to her son was refused, in order that no intelligence from the prison of Olmütz should reach the United States. It was with a toothpick and a small piece of India ink that she wrote my grandmother’s life on the margins of the engravings of a volume of Buffon.
“As might have been expected, my mother’s health had suffered much. Never did she show more meritorious submission to my father’s wishes than when she determined to write to the emperor for permission to go and consult the doctors at Vienna. At the end of seven weeks the commander of Olmütz came to intimate a verbal refusal to leave the prison unless she gave up all hopes of returning. He asked at the same time for a written answer. It was as follows:—
“‘The commander of Olmütz having declared to me that, on my request to go for a week to Vienna in order to consult the doctors, his Imperial Majesty does not permit me under any pretence whatever to go to Vienna, and only allows me to leave this prison on condition never to enter it again, I have the honor here to renew my answer. It was my duty towards my family and friends to try and obtain the advice necessary for my health, but they well know that I cannot accept the conditions offered to me. I cannot forget that while we were both on the eve of perishing, I through the tyranny of Robespierre, M. de La Fayette through the physical and moral sufferings of his captivity, I was neither allowed to receive any accounts of him, nor to let him know that his children and I were still alive. I shall not expose myself to the horrors of another separation.
“‘Therefore, whatever may be the state of my health, or the hardships of this abode for my daughters, we shall all three take advantage of his Imperial Majesty’s goodness in allowing us to share this captivity in all its details.
Noailles La Fayette.’
“My mother’s illness made rapid progress. The doctor was only allowed to see her a moment during the officer’s visit. Being ignorant of the French language he could not understand her, but would express in Latin his fears to my father. This state lasted eleven months, during which no alleviation of the prison treatment was obtained. She had not even an armchair. Her sufferings did not in the least impair her spirits. Seeing her always serene, always enjoying my father’s company, and the consolations she had brought with her, we were all less anxious than we ought to have been.
“My sister supplied the place of outdoor workmen; she even made shoes for my father. But her principal occupation was to write under his dictation on the margins of a book. My mother attended to my education, and used to read with me; but the margins of a book, the toothpicks, and the bit of India ink were things too precious for my use. In the evening my father used to read aloud to us: I still remember the pleasure of those moments.
“In the interior of the prison we had established a correspondence with our companions in captivity, with the help of the soldiers, whom we bribed by the pleasure of a good meal. Of a night, through our double bars, we used to lower, at the end of a string, a parcel with part of our supper, to the sentry on duty under our windows, who would pass the packet in the same manner to MM. de Maubourg and de Pusy, who occupied separate parts of the prison.
“In the month of July, 1797, the Marquis de Chasteler, Austrian general, was sent by the emperor to Olmütz, in order to offer their liberty to the prisoners on condition that they would promise never again to appear in his dominions. The day they received this proposal they heard that the French government, who insisted on their deliverance, had declared at the same time that they could not return to France. Notwithstanding this proof of ill-will, the three friends, who had been allowed to meet a moment in order to consult together on their decision, refused to make any agreement which did not preserve entire the rights of their country on their persons; this restriction caused the prison doors to be closed on them again.”
The following was La Fayette’s declaration in answer to the offer of liberty upon conditions which he considered too ignoble to comply with:—
“Olmütz, July 25, 1797.
“The commission with which the Marquis de Chasteler is entrusted appears to me to reduce itself to three points: First, His Imperial Majesty wishes to have a statement of our situation at Olmütz. I am disposed to present no complaint to him. Several details will be found in my wife’s letters transmitted or sent back by the Austrian government, and should his Imperial Majesty not consider it sufficient to re-peruse the instructions sent from Vienna in his name, I will willingly furnish the Marquis de Chasteler with all the information he may desire.
“Secondly, His Majesty the emperor wishes to be assured that immediately after my liberation I shall set out for America. That intention I have often expressed, but as an answer would, under present circumstances, appear like an acknowledgment of the right to impose on me such a condition, I think it inexpedient to comply with the demand.
“Thirdly, His Majesty the emperor and king has done me the honor to announce to me that, as the principles which I profess are incompatible with the safety to the Austrian government, he cannot consent to my return to his states without his special permission. There are certain duties, the fulfilment of which I cannot decline; I have some towards the United States; I have others towards France,—I cannot under any circumstances shrink from the performance of those which I owe to my country. With this reservation I can assure General the Marquis de Chasteler of my fixed determination never to set foot in any state subject to his Imperial Majesty the King of Bohemia and Hungary.
“La Fayette.”
Regarding this brave action of the Marquis de La Fayette, who had been languishing for five years in his loathsome prison, but who would not purchase liberty at the sacrifice of one iota of his avowed rights and principles, his daughter Virginie says:—
“My mother fully appreciated this noble conduct. In the midst of her sufferings she would willingly have paid with many months of captivity the pleasure caused her by my father’s declaration in answer to the proposals made by the Austrian government. Two months elapsed before we received any new communication. At last General Bonaparte and General Clarke, the French plenipotentiaries, required that the prisoners of Olmütz should be delivered without further delay.
“After many difficulties, the order was forwarded to open the gates of the citadel to the prisoners of Olmütz. We set off for Hamburg on the 19th of September, 1797. Five years and one month had elapsed since my father’s arrest, and twenty-three months since we had joined him. At Dresden, Leipsic, Halle, and Hamburg our journey was a prolonged triumph. Crowds thronged to see my father and his companions.”
Immediately upon his release from prison La Fayette’s first care was to thank M. de Talleyrand, and to write the following letter to General Bonaparte:—
“Hamburg, Oct. 6, 1797.
“Citoyen Général: The prisoners of Olmütz, happy to owe their deliverance to your irresistible arms, had, during their captivity, rejoiced at the thought that their liberty and their life were attached to the victories of the republic and to your personal glory. It is with the utmost satisfaction that they now do homage to their liberator. We should have liked, Citoyen Général, to have offered to you in person the expression of these feelings, to have witnessed with our own eyes the scenes of so many victories, the army which has won them, and the general who has placed our resurrection amongst the miracles he has accomplished. But you know that the journey to Hamburg has not been left to our choice. From the place where we took leave of our jailers we address our thanks to their victor.
“In the solitary retreat on the Danish territory of Holstein, where we shall try to recover our health, we shall unite our patriotic wishes for the republic with the most lively interest in the illustrious general to whom we are still more attached on account of the services he has rendered to the cause of liberty and to our country than for the special obligation we rejoice in owing to him, and which the deepest gratitude has forever engraved in our hearts.
“Salut et respect,
“La Fayette,
“La Tour-Maubourg,
“Bureaux de Pusy.”
Among the letters which greatly gratified La Fayette upon his liberation was the following from Madame de Staël, addressed to him when it was announced that he was to be delivered.
“June 20, 1797.
“I hope this letter will reach you. I should like to be one of the first to tell you of the feelings of indignation, grief, hope, fear, anxiety, discouragement, with which your fate has filled, during these last five years, the hearts of all those who love you. I do not know whether it is possible to make these cruel recollections bearable to you; nevertheless, I may say, that, while calumny was destroying every reputation, while faction, unable to triumph over the cause, was attacking every individual, your misfortunes have preserved your glory; and if your health can be restored to you, you come out whole from a tomb where your name has acquired fresh lustre.
“Come directly to France; there is no other country for you. You will find that republic which your opinions led you to wish for when your conscience bound you to royalty. You will find it illustrated by victory and free from the crimes which stained its origin. You will uphold that republic, because without it no liberty can exist in France, and because, as a hero and as a martyr, you are so united with freedom that I pronounce your name and the name of liberty at the same moment to express what I wish for the honor and welfare of France.
“Come to France; there you will find devoted friends; and let me hope that my constant care for your welfare and my useless efforts to serve you may entitle me to a small place in your thoughts.”
MADAME DE STAËL.
[FROM THE PORTRAIT GALLERY OF EMINENT MEN AND WOMEN.]
During La Fayette’s long imprisonment many persons in England, France, and America interested themselves in efforts in his behalf. Of these one of the most indefatigable was Joseph Masclet, a man of rare merits. During the Reign of Terror he went to England to save his life. He was not personally acquainted with La Fayette, having never even seen him at that time, but he warmly sympathized with his principles and admired his sterling virtues. He constantly wrote against the detention of La Fayette, and published numerous articles in the Hamburg journals upon the subject, using the nom-de-plume of “Eleutheros,” the Greek for freeman. It was in vain that the Austrian cabinet took every measure to discover “Eleutheros,” though several emissaries were sent to London to find the unknown person who thus dared to brave the anger of the Austrian government. Masclet was supported in England in these philanthropic efforts in behalf of La Fayette and his companions in misfortune, Generals Latour-Maubourg and Bureaux de Pusy, who were imprisoned with him in Olmütz, by Fox, Wilberforce, Sheridan, and at their head General Fitzpatrick and General Tarleton, who had fought against La Fayette in Virginia; but these now all united to plead with the Pitt ministry and the calumniators of La Fayette. In December, 1796, General Fitzpatrick made that eloquent speech in the English House of Commons, in behalf of the prisoners at Olmütz, which produced great sensation in Europe, which ended as follows:—
“That an humble address be presented to his Majesty, that it appears to this House that the detention of Generals La Fayette, Bureaux de Pusy, and Latour-Maubourg, in the prison of his Majesty’s ally, the emperor of Germany, is highly injurious to his Imperial Majesty and to the common cause of all the allies; and humbly implore his Majesty to intercede in such manner as to his wisdom shall seem proper for the deliverance of these unfortunate persons.”
The friendship between La Fayette and Masclet continued strong until the death of the latter. Immediately upon La Fayette’s release from Olmütz, he addressed the following letter to the faithful “Eleutheros,” who had been untiring in his efforts in his behalf.
“Witmold, 9th Brumaire, year 6.
“How is it possible, my dear friend, that since the period of our deliverance you have not yet received the homage of my gratitude, and the expression of my sincere friendship? M—— must have explained to you that my delay in writing could have proceeded only from the hope of enjoying a happiness still greater. I am far from renouncing that happiness; I have need of it more than ever, and I demand it from you with the feeling of confidence which you have given me a right to express. I am not apprehensive of abusing that right, and it is gratifying to me to use it. I forbear to speak of my obligations towards you, my dear friend; the question relates to more than my own liberty and my own life, since my wife, my daughters, my two friends, and our faithful domestics have been restored along with me. How many other obligations to which my heart is incessantly alive should I not still have to recapitulate, were I to endeavor to portray my gratitude! but it is inexpressible—inexhaustible—like your friendship, and I should feel delighted to thank you by pressing you to my heart.
“You have had news of our deliverance, of our journey, of our health; that of my wife in particular is so bad that we have been forced to stop in the nearest place of safety. To have embarked even for a short voyage would have caused great injury to some of our party. Travelling by land, after the first eight days, would have been uncertain, and my wife would have been unable to bear it without undergoing a degree of fatigue that would have been dangerous in her exhausted situation. We therefore propose to settle for some time in a very isolated retreat between Kiel and Ploën. That territory is subject to the king of Denmark, and his connection with the Republic will, I trust, prevent him from molesting French citizens whose principles may be displeasing to him, but whose only occupation will consist in the care of their health, and who, unfortunately, in their present position, can serve liberty only by their wishes.
“You have doubtless been made acquainted with my opinion on the events of the 18th Fructidor, and I am aware that my opinion on that subject is not yours. Perhaps mine is influenced by my profound contempt for the counter-revolutionists, and by some regret at not having gone out at a moment when liberty of opinion and a bad tone of society would, it is said, have authorized a republican declaration. But I cannot deceive myself as to the nature of the measures that have been taken; as to the constitution that has been sworn, and which, by the way, is infinitely better than that which I was to have defended; as to the personal characters of several of the proscribed parties; as to the declaration of rights, which, waiving all considerations of an author’s self-love, shall always form the rule of my opinions and conduct; finally, as to the principle, in which I have been confirmed by experience, that Liberty can, and ought to be, assisted only by means worthy of her. If I deceive myself in my disapprobation of some of the present measures, the fault is not mine; I have been enabled to form a judgment on them only by means of some apologies and public papers; and in frankly laying before you the sentiments of the most republican heart that ever existed, I most ardently desire to hear from you the reasons which have induced so sincere and so enlightened a patriot as yourself to form a different opinion.
“Our first act of liberty at Hamburg was an act of respect to the representative of the Republic, an account of which he must have forwarded to the government. We have written to Bonaparte in the midst of his triumphs, and to Clarke in the midst of his reverses, for both have considerable claims upon our gratitude. But as it appears to us that the official tribute ought to be addressed to the minister of foreign relations, the first organ of the government in taking steps which have released us from captivity and death, we have written to Talleyrand, as the natural depository of our acknowledgments, as the individual to whom we owe an account of our existence in a foreign country, and as joining to his ministerial claims that which he possesses upon our personal gratitude. We trust that by these three steps taken by us at Hamburg, in Italy, and at Paris, we have fulfilled all suitable duties and formalities. The pleasure of our deliverance is augmented beyond measure by the idea that we owe it to the triumphs of the Republic, to the kind feelings of our fellow-citizens, and to the zeal of our best friends, among whom you are acquainted with one whose abilities are as superior as his heart is excellent, one for whom I feel the most affectionate regard, whom I ardently long to embrace, to whom I have a thousand things to say, and a thousand questions to put, and whom I shall cordially cherish till my latest breath.
“La Fayette.”
In 1792 Madame La Fayette had written to Washington in behalf of her husband, as follows: “While he suffers this inconceivable persecution from the enemies without, the faction which reigns within keeps me a hostage at one hundred and twenty leagues from the capital. Judge, then, at what distance I am from him. In this abyss of misery, the idea of owing to the United States and to Washington the life and liberty of M. de La Fayette kindles a ray of hope in my heart. I hope everything from the goodness of the people with whom he has set an example of that liberty of which he is now made the victim. And shall I dare speak what I hope? I would ask of them, through you, for an envoy, who shall go to reclaim him in the name of the republic of the United States, wheresoever he may be found, and who shall be authorized to make, with the power in whose charge he may be placed, all necessary engagements for his relief, and for taking him to the United States, even if he is there to be guarded as a captive. I hope my request is not a rash one. Accept the homage of the sentiments which have dictated this letter, as well as that of attachment and tender respect.”
Trying as it was for Washington to refuse this request in his public capacity, as he felt he could not make an official demand which might involve his country in embarrassments; he did all that he could as a private individual in his friend’s behalf, and to the emperor of Germany he thus wrote:—
“It will readily occur to your Majesty that occasions may sometimes exist, on which official considerations would constrain the chief of a nation to be silent and passive, in relation even to objects which affect his sensibility and claim his interposition as a man. Finding myself precisely in this situation at present, I take the liberty of writing this private letter to your Majesty, being persuaded that my motives will also be my apology for it.
“In common with the people of this country, I retain a strong and cordial sense of the services rendered to them by the Marquis de La Fayette, and my friendship for him has been constant and sincere. It is natural, therefore, that I should sympathize with him and his family in their misfortunes, and endeavor to mitigate the calamities which they experience; among which, his present confinement is not the least distressing.
“I forbear to enlarge upon this delicate subject. Permit me only to submit to your Majesty’s consideration whether his long imprisonment and the confiscation of his estates, and the indigence and dispersion of his family, and the painful anxieties incident to all these circumstances, do not form an assemblage of sufferings which recommend him to the mediation of humanity! Allow me, sir, on this occasion to be its organ, and to entreat that he may be permitted to come to this country on such conditions and under such restrictions as your Majesty may think it expedient to prescribe.
“As it is a maxim with me not to ask what, under similar circumstances, I would not grant, your Majesty will do me the justice to believe that this request appears to me to correspond to those great principles of magnanimity and wisdom which form the basis of sound policy and durable glory.
“May the Almighty and Merciful Sovereign of the universe keep your Majesty under his protection and guidance.”
To Gouverneur Morris, who had superseded Mr. Monroe as minister to France, Madame de Staël wrote urgently in behalf of La Fayette. She says in one of her letters to Mr. Morris:—
“You are travelling through Germany, and, whether on a public mission or not, you have influence, for they are not so stupid as not to consult a man like you. Open the prison doors of M. de La Fayette. Pay the debt of your country. What greater service can any one render to his native land than to discharge her obligations of gratitude? Is there any severer calamity than that which has befallen La Fayette? Does any more glaring injustice attract the attention of Europe?”
Mr. Morris not only spared no sacrifice for the marquis, but aided his suffering family, and was chiefly instrumental in securing the liberation of Madame La Fayette. But for five long years Prussia and Austria defended their infamous conduct by declaring “that La Fayette’s freedom was incompatible with the safety of the present governments of Europe.”
General Latour-Maubourg, in a letter written during their imprisonment at Olmütz, thus graphically describes their prison life:—
“Do not suppose that I have made a mistake in lodging the domestic from Paris in two chambers which are large, handsome, and the best in the enclosure, whilst General and Madame La Fayette have but two small cells, their daughters but a narrow kennel, with a single wretched bed; and whilst Pusy and myself, in addition to the common inconveniences, have those attached to the neighborhood of the guard-house and out-houses, the dampness of which is such, that the wall touching them is covered with saltpetre. The genius of the imperial administration has thought of everything that can render our seclusion complete, and harass us in the slightest matters.
“The waters with which we are surrounded furnish, in addition to a multitude of flies that are extremely troublesome, frequent fogs, which occasion dangerous fevers, and to which the town of Olmütz owes its reputation for unwholesomeness.
“Besides, the gutters passing beneath our windows always emit an insufferable stench, and exhale a mephitic vapor that is absolutely pestilential. Our prisons, without excepting even that of the ladies, are furnished with a sorry bed without curtains, two deal tables, two chairs, a range of wooden pegs, a wardrobe, and a stove which is lighted from the outside.
“Hitherto, you perceive that we have had none of the conveniences promised by the emperor to Madame La Fayette. It is probably a great honor to be his Majesty’s guest, particularly in a prison: but the thing is really no laughing matter. The breakfast is of chocolate, or coffee with milk, at the prisoner’s option, and both are execrable, as you may well imagine when you are informed that they are made by a vivandière, in a small kitchen, into which the soldiers from the barracks enter at pleasure, and where their whole time is spent in smoking. It thus happens that everything eaten by us is impregnated with a strong savor of tobacco, and we are even fortunate when we do not find large pieces of that weed in what is given to us. Our dinner is served up in deep earthenware dishes; and with regard to cleanliness, as everything comes from the kitchen of the same vivandière, whose execrable ragouts, rancid butter, and spices I might forgive, were she herself less dirty. To fill up the measure of disgust, everything—meat, soup, vegetables, fricassees—must be eaten with a pewter spoon, without knife or fork, and had we not brought napkins along with us, some fragment of which still remain, the sleeves of our coats must have served for that purpose. Two pint jugs are brought to us full, one of coarse, flat, red wine, the other of dirty water, and we must drink out of both, because, as it was explained to me, ‘the emperor chooses it.’ You will conceive, the disgust inspired by these jugs, when I add that when removed from our chambers they are placed in the windows of the corridor, where they are exposed to insects, dust, tobacco smoke, and what is still worse, left for the use of the soldiers, who drink out of them and perform their ablutions in them. They are cleaned only at stated periods, at the beginning and in the middle of each month, with a wisp of straw.
“From these details you will perceive that, as a relief from our vexations, which are the more annoying as they have not even the semblance of necessity; and to diminish the tedious length of the days, we have no other resource than reading. In Silesia we had been allowed the use of paper, pen, and ink; but at the mention of this our jailers were greatly astonished, and bestowed contemptuous epithets on the want of intelligence displayed by the Prussians in tormenting their victims. We were deprived even of the letters which we had received from our relatives and friends, and were informed that we were separated from the rest of the world, that we must forget our own names, and recollect only our numbers, by which only we were to be known, and that we should never hear each other spoken of.
“You ask how we dressed? Like beggars; that is to say, in rags, since our worn-out clothes have not been replaced. La Fayette, however, wanted breeches, and I have been informed that a tailor was ordered, without taking his measure, to make a large pair of trousers for him, and a waistcoat of coarse serge, at the same time informing him that cloth was too dear for him. I believe that the garment alluded to was purposely made in such a manner as to prevent him from wearing it, and that Madame La Fayette supplied the deficiency by purchasing cloth on some pretext or other. In the articles of shoes and stockings he is strangely provided, for those he wears Mademoiselle Anastasie was obliged to make with her own fair hands, out of the stuff of an old coat. For my own part, I wear a waistcoat and nankeen trousers made at Nivelle, nearly five years ago, and you may therefore judge of the state of maturity at which they have arrived. Were I to make my appearance in the street, any charitable soul would offer me alms. Three months ago, however, I was supplied with new shoes; the old ones had been soled thirteen times, and for the new ones I was indebted merely to the obstinacy of the cobbler who found it utterly impossible to perform the operation for the fourteenth time. Whilst my shoes were being made I was obliged to remain in bed.”
Notwithstanding La Fayette’s many privations and persecutions during his long imprisonment, his moral courage remained unimpaired. He had been languishing for five years in a state between life and death. He had lost all his hair, and had several times been attacked by dangerous fevers bred by the dampness and infectious air of his dungeon. In the midst of his many misfortunes his coolness and presence of mind never for an instant deserted him. After his attempt to escape, having been recaptured and brought back to Olmütz, he was at first confined in a large apartment, but was soon afterwards commanded by an officer to pass into an adjoining room.
“For what purpose?” asked La Fayette.
“That your irons may be put on,” replied the officer.
“Your emperor has not given you such an order,” boldly exclaimed the illustrious prisoner; “beware of doing more than he requires, and of displeasing him by exceeding his orders through an ill-timed zeal.”
The officer, impressed with the truth and courage of this remark, insisted no further, and La Fayette was thus spared from being obliged to endure the humiliating torture of being ironed during the remainder of his imprisonment. Neither did his great sufferings break his spirit. One day the officer on guard, beholding La Fayette at his meal, and seeing that he was forced to eat with his fingers, asked him if that mode was entirely new to him.
“Oh no!” replied La Fayette, with cool irony; “I have seen it employed in America, amongst the Iroquois.”
When La Fayette was first released from his prison at Olmütz, he found that he had come back to a changed world. The king, queen, court, Assembly, and constitution, all were gone! The awful Reign of Terror which swept over his country had left many empty places among his friends, and the France which met his ardent gaze was greatly different from that upon which his longing eyes turned as he had been obliged to depart from her coasts in haste and with baffled hopes.
EXECUTION OF LOUIS XVI.
Writing to a friend who had cautioned him against freely expressing his opinions, lest he might find himself in further trouble, La Fayette boldly answered: “I risk nothing in speaking as I think, because I would not and could not be employed by any party except according to my own ideas. The result is that, except on some very great occasion of serving the liberty of my country after my own fashion, my political life is ended. To my friends I shall be full of life, and to the public a sort of picture in a museum or book in a library. Those who know my views and wishes must be convinced that the services I should wish to render to my country are of a nature to be combined with the mode of living which suits my position, my wife, all my family, and myself; that is to say, with a quiet philosopher’s establishment on a good farm,—far enough from the capital not to be interfered with in my solitude, and to see only intimate friends.”
Immediately upon the release of La Fayette, Washington addressed to him the following letter from Mount Vernon, dated Oct. 8, 1797:—
“This letter will be presented to you, I hope, by your young son, well worthy of having such parents as yourself and your amiable wife.
“I could say to you much better than I can express it here all that I have felt for your sufferings; concerning my efforts for your release, the measures which I adopted, although without success, to facilitate your deliverance from an unjust and cruel captivity; and my joy at last in beholding its termination.
“I desire to congratulate you, and be assured that no one could offer it with an affection more profound and sincere. Each action of your life gives me a right to rejoice at the liberty which you have received, and also at the restoration of security in your country; and if the possession of these blessings cannot entirely compensate for the trials which you have endured, they will mitigate, at least, the painful remembrance.
“The conduct of your son since he landed upon American soil has been most exemplary, from all accounts, and has procured for him the affection and the confidence of all who have had the pleasure of knowing him. His filial affection, his ardent desire to embrace his parents and his sisters in the first moment of their deliverance, have not permitted him to await here more authentic news; and as nothing has been heard which should influence him to suspend this resolution, I have not refused my assent to his departure, that he might fly to the arms of those who are so dear to him, because, according to last accounts, he ought, in truth, to find them in Paris.
“M. Frestel has been a devoted guardian to George; a father could not have watched with greater care over his cherished son; and he merits in a high degree all that can be said of his virtues, his good judgment, and his prudence. Your son and he carry with them the wishes and the regrets of our family and of all who know them.
“At all times be assured you have held a high place in the affections of this country. I will not tax your time to speak to you of that which regards me personally, except to say to you that I have once again retired to my own fireside, where I will remain, forming wishes for the prosperity of the United States, after having labored for years for the establishment of their independence, of their constitution, and of their laws. Those wishes will constantly have for their object also the welfare of all mankind, as long as the little day of my life upon the earth shall be continued. I have said adieu to public affairs, and I desire to withdraw entirely from politics. But M. Frestel and George will report me more fully upon this point. Although they have always avoided taking any part in our discussions, they have not been inattentive spectators of that which has passed before their eyes. They will give you a general idea of our situation, and of those parties who, in my opinion, have troubled the peace and tranquillity.
“If your remembrances or your circumstances shall bring you on a visit to America, accompanied by your wife and daughters, not one of its inhabitants will receive you with more cordiality and tenderness than Madame Washington and myself. Our hearts are full of affection and admiration for you and them.”
At the time of La Fayette’s release from Olmütz he wrote to Masclet the following letter regarding the military career of his son, George Washington La Fayette, which is interesting as revealing some of the peculiar circumstances which surrounded the family at that time, and also La Fayette’s impressions regarding the state of France:—
“Talleyrand and you imagine that had George been in the army, the Directors, in replying to Brune, would have made a formal exception in my favor; not more so, perhaps, than the Convention made in favor of the father of Moreau, on the day when the latter took the fort of l’Ecluse. But even supposing that the uniform worn by all the young aristocrats who seek to connect themselves with the Republic had produced such an effect upon the government, you will observe that my son could not have returned in time to follow Bonaparte, unless I had made excessive haste to send him; and when my deliverer was apprehensive of compromising himself by replying to my letters, when he was himself said to be threatened with an act of accusation, it would have been imprudent to send to him the son of a man to whose treasons the Directory and the President of the Council of Five Hundred had recently called public attention. Since that period you have not regretted the wars of Switzerland for him. Had he been attached to Championnet, he would probably have been associated in a criminal trial; had he served with Joubert, he would have been disgraced, and would perhaps have participated in the extreme disgust which that general cannot refrain from expressing; whereas at present he is free and full of ardor, and we may examine the question of his entrance into the service, which has become much more tempting, to use his own expression, since we have undergone reverses.
“The fact is, that George, who is a republican patriot,—and I have met with few such in my lifetime,—has, besides, a passion for the military profession, for which I think him adapted, as he possesses a sound and calm judgment, a just perception, a strong local memory, and will be equally beloved by his superiors, his comrades, and his subordinates. I love him with too much tenderness to make any distinction between his desires and mine; and I am too great an enemy of oppression of every description to place restraint on the wishes of a beloved son nearly twenty years of age. I could joyfully see him covered with honorable scars; but beyond that supposition I have not the courage to contemplate existence.
“Other objections, however, present themselves to my mind. I do not call them insurmountable, for I admit that the opposite opinion is plausible; and it is only because it appears indisputable to you that I endeavor to reduce it to its just value. Let us, in the first place, lay aside your comparison with my journey to America, whither I proceeded to oppose the despotism of a government which had violated fewer natural and social rights, from the foundation of the colonies to the Declaration of Independence, than the Directory daily violates amongst those who have been subjugated to its power. We must not be led away by the flattering sounds of republic and liberty. Algiers, Venice, and Rome under Tiberius, caused the first name to be heard; and as for the second, do you think that the young patricians who demanded of Sylla the honor to introduce Roman liberty into Asia had more energy than he who said to his governor, ‘Why is not this man killed who disposes of the life and property of his fellow-citizens?’—‘The reason is that nobody ventures upon the deed.’—‘Then give me a sword, and I will kill him.’ That individual, as you know, was Cato.
“It is no doubt gratifying to serve an ungrateful country either in one’s own person or in that of a son; but, in this instance, ingratitude can hardly be said to exist, since benevolence reappears with liberty; it is a proscription by the oppressive faction of the country, which is at present prolonged by an arbitrary government, till the return of liberty; and for the constant enemy of despotism, it is not indispensable to serve the despotic pentarchy of France. There are also particular inconveniences in my son’s case. You know that in organized countries—in England, for instance—activity of service seems to imply the approbation of the governing party; but without admitting that difficulty, imagine George at the table of a leader, drinking, three months hence, to the fortunate day of the 10th of August, which was the signal for the assassination of our friends, or ordering one of my accomplices to be shot!
“If, at least, some return to liberal ideas should become manifest,—if I could perceive the avant-coureurs of a national and legal government,—the inexpressible desire which I feel for such a blessing would induce me to welcome with avidity the smallest drop of liberty that might fall from heaven. I cordially detest the ancient powers; I ardently wish that the new doctrine may be established upon a firm basis; this coalition is composed of my implacable enemies. I entertain no personal hostility towards the present government; I have even obligations to some of them; and the persecution which I have suffered is too honorable to me for its avowed motives to suffer me to be shocked at it.
“You know that I love my country, and that its welfare, in whatever quarter it might originate, would give me the highest gratification: consequently no bitterness can enter into the severity of my objections, which I would instantly waive, were liberty, or even the dawn of liberty, again perceptible in France; but I have felt desirous of explaining to you, my dear friend, what has hitherto prevented me from yielding to the natural ardor of my son, and what has struck himself in hearing my remarks on the subject.
“At the same time I admit that the opposite opinion, even under existing circumstances, has considerable weight. France, whether free or not, is still our country, and there are more germs of liberty in her democratic organization than could enter into the counter-revolution. Her adversaries are the decided enemies of our purest principles, and have taken up arms only to accomplish her utter destruction. If it appears unsuitable that, when Europe is divided into two bands, a young man of nineteen years of age should be found in neither, it is evident that the place of a patriot—of my son—can only be under our national standards. The late reverses have imparted a more defensive character to our wars, and a leader incapable of acts of pillage has just been appointed to the army of Italy; in a word, if it be permitted, or let us even say, if it be a duty to hesitate, there are many reasons at this moment for the adoption of your advice.”
At a later period La Fayette wrote to the same friend to inform him of his son’s departure for Italy:—
“I heartily thank you, my dear Masclet, for your congratulations on the wished-for appointment. The new-made officer is hastening to the field, and hopes to embrace you to-morrow, before his and your departure. Sure it is, the standard of the rights of men is not on the side against which he is going to fight. May they be in France the reward of victory!
“With sanguine expectations I am waiting for news from Italy. Bonaparte will conquer. Our situation in Germany is glorious indeed; a brilliant campaign and an honorable peace are, I think, to be depended upon. Adieu, my dear Masclet.
“La Fayette.”