"In behalf then, of all the chivalry of Virginia; on this redoubt which his valour wrested from the enemy at the point of the bayonet; I place on the head of Major General Lafayette this wreathe of double triumph:—won by numerous and illustrious acts of martial prowess, and by a life devoted to the happiness of the human race. In their names, I proclaim him alike victorious in arms and acts of civil polity. In bannered fields, a hero—in civil life, the benefactor of mankind."
Lafayette was deeply affected. There was a solemn earnestness in his manner, a touching sensibility in his whole countenance which most deeply impressed every observer. Many wept—all were moved. When Gen. Taylor had closed his address, he was about to fix the civic wreath upon the General's head. But the considerate veteran, always himself, always attentive to the slightest proprieties of word and action, caught the hovering wreath as it approached his brow with his right hand, and respectfully bowing, dropt it to his side, when he thus replied:
"I most cordially thank you, my dear general, and your companions in arms, for your affectionate welcome, your kind recollections, and the flattering expressions of your friendship. Happy I am to receive them on these already ancient lines, where the united arms of America and France have been gloriously engaged in a holy alliance to support the rights of American Independence, and he sacred principle of the sovereignty of the people. Happy also to be so welcomed on the particular spot where my dear light infantry comrades acquired one of their honorable claims to public love and esteem. You know, sir, that in this business of storming redoubts, with unloaded arms and fixed bayonets, the merit of the deed is in the soldiers who execute it, and to each of them, I am anxious to acknowledge their equal share of honor. Let me, however, with affection and gratitude, pay a special tribute to the gallant name of Hamilton, who commanded the attack, to the three field officers who seconded him, Gimat, Laurens and Fish, the only surviving one, my friend now near me. In their name, my dear general, in the name of the light infantry, those we have lost as well as those who survive, and only in common with them, I accept the crown with which you are pleased to honor us, and I offer you the return of the most grateful acknowledgements."
When he had closed, he gave a new proof of the rapidity of his conceptions, the generosity of his soul, the uniform modesty of his character. The very moment he concluded, (never having been prepared for such a scene, never having seen the address, never having suspected the presentation of the wreath) he turned round and drew Col. Fish to the front. "Here," he exclaimed, "half of this wreath belongs to you." "No sir, it is all your own." "Then." said Lafayette, putting it into Col. Fish's hand, "take it and preserve it as our common property."
The whole scene was strongly marked by the moral sublime. This ceremony over, the grand review commenced. Lafayette stood near the arch, and the volunteer companies, and the U. S. troops passed him in regular succession, with flags flying and music floating in the air. The troops then formed themselves again in line, and Lafayette on foot, passed down the line. He was carried to the obelisk, situated on the spot where Vimionel had stormed the second redoubt.—The review over, and Lafayette having seen and been seen by all the troops, he mounted his barouche in company with the governor, and was followed by the other carriages. The whole body of military and citizens then moved to the field, near to which the British troops had grounded their arms in 1781. Between these, and the amphitheatre, where at least one thousand ladies sat, the barouche passed on near to the ladies, who continued to wave their white handkerchiefs as he slowly moved on. "Ladies, receive my warm thanks for your kind welcome," was constantly upon his lips.
The whole scene defies description. Here were the fields, which forty-three years ago, had witnessed the tread of a conquered enemy! A thousand associations of this description rushed upon the mind. Now, filled with an animated and joyous throng of from 10 to 15,000 persons. The spectacle surpassed all expectation; all expression.
When at the tomb of Washington, Mr. Custis addressed him as follows:—
"Last of the generals of the army of Independence! At this awful and impressive moment, when forgetting the splendour of a triumph greater than Roman consul ever had, you bend with reverence over the remains of Washington, the child of Mount Vernon presents you with this token, containing the hair of him, whom while living you loved, and to whose honored grave you now pay the manly and affecting tribute of a patriot's and a soldier's tear.
"The ring has ever been an emblem of the union of hearts from the earliest ages of the world; and this will unite the affections of all the Americans to the person and posterity of Lafayette, now and hereafter. And when your descendants of a distant day shall behold this valued relic, it will remind them of the heroic virtues of their illustrious sire, who received it, not in the palaces of princes, or amid the pomp and vanities of life, but at the laurelled grave of Washington.
"Do you ask—Is this the Mausoleum befitting the ashes of a Marcus Aurelius, or the good Antonius? I tell you, that the father of his country lies buried in the hearts of his countrymen; and in those of the brave, the good, the free, of all ages and nations. Do you seek for the tablets, which are to convey his fame to immortality? They have long been written in the freedom and happiness of their country. These are the monumental trophies of Washington the great; and will endure when the proudest works of art have "dissolved and left not a wreck behind."