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La Fayette
[FROM THE PORTRAIT GALLERY OF EMINENT MEN AND WOMEN.]

THE
LIFE OF LA FAYETTE

THE KNIGHT OF LIBERTY IN TWO WORLDS AND

TWO CENTURIES.

BY

LYDIA HOYT FARMER,

AUTHOR OF “THE BOYS’ BOOK OF FAMOUS RULERS,” “GIRLS’ BOOK

OF FAMOUS QUEENS,” “A STORY BOOK OF SCIENCE,” “THE

PRINCE OF THE FLAMING STAR,” ETC.

NEW YORK:

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.,

13 Astor Place.

Copyright,

By Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.

1888.

Typography by J. S. Cushing & Co., Boston.

DEDICATED

TO

My Husband.

PREFACE.

THE life of the General Marquis de La Fayette is intimately connected with the two most important epochs in the history of both France and America. His name binds together these nations by indissoluble bonds of sympathy; and Washington and La Fayette will forever be found side by side in the annals of history.

As a large portion of the material presented in this volume has been gathered from French works never before translated and which are now out of print, and also from original files of newspapers, and various manuscripts written by members of the La Fayette family, a more complete life of General La Fayette is here offered than has before appeared, either in this country or in Europe.

THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

THE LIFE OF LA FAYETTE.

CHAPTER I.

Liberty’s Knight—L’Homme des Deux Mondes—Ancestry of La Fayette—His Birth and Early Years—Youthful Enthusiasm—College Life—Introduction to the French Court—Vast Inheritance—A Page to the Queen—Member of the Mousquetaires du Roi—Promoted a Commissioned Officer—Personal Appearance—Early Marriage—His Wife’s Family—Stationed at Metz—News of the American Revolution—Influence on La Fayette—His Resolve—Opposition—Visit to London—Return to Paris—Secret Preparations—Sovereign Displeasure—Hasty Flight—Aboard the Victory—Letters to his Wife.

“The love of liberty with life is given,

And life itself the inferior gift of Heaven.”—Dryden.

“For Freedom’s battle once begun,

Bequeath’d by bleeding sire to son,

Though baffled oft, is ever won.”—Byron.

LA FAYETTE was not only the Knight of Liberty in two worlds and in two centuries, but was also the champion of law and order. Other men have fought for freedom; but few men in history have so truly and broadly comprehended the indissoluble tie which must ever bind liberty to law, if the shackles of oppression be unloosed, and the equal rights of men become the watchwords of national peace and prosperity.

The battle of Minden, in 1758, was fought, and a young and valiant French marquis sacrificed his life upon that battle-field. He was the first Marquis de La Fayette. At that time his son, Marie-Jean-Paul-Roch-Yves-Gilbert de Motier La Fayette, lay in his cradle, an infant of seven months old. The warlike mantle of the father fell upon the son. But gentler spirits than Stern War hovered over his pillow. Gleaming-eyed Liberty said, “I will make him my champion”; and mild-eyed Law bent over the cradle and smoothed the baby brow, murmuring, “I will make him love peace and order.” Thus War, Liberty, and Law christened the fatherless child, and to the long list of titled names which already weighted his infant forehead, they added yet another, of nobler rank than all; for they placed there, in letters of glowing light, the unrivalled title, Knight of Liberty.

The name of La Fayette was distinguished as far back as the fourteenth century. “The founder of the family was a Marshal de La Fayette, who defeated the English at the battle of Baugé shortly before the time of Jeanne d’Arc,—a success which raised the hopes of the Dauphin, who afterwards recovered the French throne.

“In the seventeenth century two noble and illustrious women bore the ancient name. One of these ladies was Louise de La Fayette, maid of honor to Queen Anne of Austria, whose son, Louis XIII., fell so deeply in love with the young lady that he proposed to establish her in his country house at Versailles, a royal shooting-box built before the time of the great château. Alarmed at the infatuation of the king, and seeing no way of resisting the royal commands save by devoting herself to Heaven, Louise de La Fayette retired to the Convent of the Visitation, and at once took the vows. She died at the age of fifty, as Mère Angélique, abbess of Chaillot, a convent she had founded.

“Her brother, Count La Fayette, married, in 1655, Marie Madeline Pioche de la Vergne, an intimate friend of Madame de Sévigné, and authoress of the ‘Princesse de Clèves,’ a classical romance of the old school, still read by lovers of the literature of the Renaissance.

“The wife of the renowned General La Fayette, whom he married in 1774, when he was sixteen and she a year younger, was Marie Adrienne Françoise, second daughter of the Duke d’Ayen, and granddaughter of Maréschal de Noailles. After three years of happy married life, he left her shortly before the birth of their second child, to hasten to the aid of the American colonies. The infant born during her father’s absence became Madame Charles de Latour-Maubourg.”

In 1881, in the Paris Figaro appeared the following account of the descendants of General La Fayette: “His only son, George Washington La Fayette, married, in 1802, Mademoiselle Desture de Thacy, and had five children. The eldest, Oscar, died in 1881. His wife, a relative of M. de Pusy, one of the prisoners at Olmütz, had died after one year of married life, and he never married again. The second son, Edmond, the present head of the house, is now sixty-two, and a bachelor.

“The daughters are Madame Adolphe Périer (her husband was a nephew of Casimir Périer), Madame Bureaux de Pusy, and Madame Gustave de Beaumont. Mesdames Pusy and Beaumont are still living. The former has a son, an officer of merit, and two daughters. M. Paul de Beaumont, son of Madame Gustave de Beaumont, was a cabinet minister under M. Daufaure. Madame Périer left daughters, one of whom married M. de Sahune.

“Madame Charles de Latour-Maubourg, who was born whilst her father, General La Fayette, was serving in America, had two daughters, Madame de Brigode and Madame de Perron. General Perron, husband of the latter lady, was a Piedmontese, and a president of the Council of Ministers in Piedmont. He was killed at the battle of Novara.

“La Fayette’s other daughter, Madame de Lasteyrie, was named Virginie. She was the comfort and staff of her father’s age. She married, in 1800, the Marquis Louis de Lasteyrie, who served with the army for some years, but being wounded, retired to the Château of La Grange, between Fontainbleau and Paris,—a place which became the happy home of the entire La Fayette family. There lived the general and the family of Charles de Latour-Maubourg; and thither, too, after a time, came George Washington La Fayette and his children.

“The Marquis de Lasteyrie, who died before General La Fayette, left four children. Of these are Madame Charles de Rémusat, whose husband is the son of the distinguished lady whose ‘Memoirs’ have been recently given to the world; and Madame de Corcelle, wife of a former ambassador to Rome. M. Jules de Lasteyrie, the only son, was made a senator. He married a lady of the English branch of the House of Rohan-Chabot. His only son holds an office at present at Abbeville. The third and youngest daughter of the Marquis de Lasteyrie married M. d’Assailly, and is mother of two sons: one, councillor-general of the Deux-Sèvres; the other, a captain of Chasseurs.

“The connections of the La Fayette family are distinguished and numerous. Through the De Grammonts, they are allied to the Count de Merode, senator from the Department of the Doubs; to his brother, who held high office under Pius IX.; and to Anna, Countess of Montalembert. The family of Ségur is also related to the La Fayette family.”

Beranger called La Fayette “L’Homme des deux mondes” (the man of two worlds), and he might also have added, the man of two centuries. Europe and America have both united to do him homage, and the glorious independence which he aided in securing in one century, he lived to behold in the next, realizing greater permanency and prosperity than even his fondest dreams had dared to hope for.

The American Republic held him in grateful remembrance as a Revolutionary Hero; while France venerated his memory as the Friend and Protector of the People. High on the lists of chivalry the name of La Fayette glows with undying lustre; but as the defender of the oppressed and the protector of the weak, he is the People’s Hero.

While his remains were being carried to the tomb, surrounded by an escort of the National Guard, a poor man, with tattered clothing and tottering steps, endeavored to press his way through the crowd and place himself in the funeral procession directly behind the bier. One of the Guard, obstructing his passage, said to him, “You see that none but the family are admitted here.”

“We all belong to his family,” replied the old man, with a voice choked with emotion and eyes full of tears; “we all belong to his family, for he loved us all as his children.”

Immediately the ranks of the National Guard fell reverently backward, and a way was quickly opened for the old peasant, and he walked to the cemetery directly behind the remains of him whose self-sacrificing devotion had won for him this beautiful testimony of love and honor; and in the name of humanity and brotherly kindness, this old man—unconsciously—laid upon the tomb of La Fayette the most precious memorial which could be offered to his memory.

In the Château of Chavaniac, in the province of Auvergne, the Marquis de La Fayette was born and passed the first seven or eight years of his life. He was so frail a child that for some years the indications were strong that he would enjoy only a brief career. Being fatherless, his education was the care of his mother, who faithfully performed her sacred duties.

A faint tinge of health began gradually to glow in his cheeks, his attenuated frame showed some signs of vigor, and the presage of an early death became less foreboding. While his body had been so frail, however, his mind had made rapid progress.

To a friend he said in after years: “You ask me at what period I first experienced my ardent love for liberty and glory. I recollect no time of life anterior to my enthusiasm for anecdotes of glorious deeds, and to my projects of travelling over the world to acquire fame. At eight years of age my heart beat when I heard of a wolf that had done some injury, and caused still more alarm in our neighborhood, and the hope of meeting it was the object of all my walks. When I arrived at college, nothing ever interrupted my studies except my ardent wish to study without restraint. I never deserved to be chastised, but, in spite of my usual gentleness, it would have been dangerous to attempt to do so. I recollect with pleasure that, when I was to describe in rhetoric a perfect courser, I sacrificed the hope of obtaining a prize, and described the one which, on perceiving the whip, threw his rider.

“Republican anecdotes always delighted me, and when my new connections wished to obtain for me a place at court, I did not hesitate displeasing them to preserve my independence.”

CHÂTEAU OF CHAVANIAC.—LAFAYETTE’S BIRTHPLACE.

At the age of twelve years La Fayette was entered at the college of Louis le Grand, in Paris, where he zealously pursued his studies. In Latin and Greek classics he became especially proficient. Owing to his high rank his literary pursuits were subject to frequent interruptions, for he early gained the attention of royalty, and the gay French court was very alluring to a youth passionately fond of brilliant society. However, his love for study and his enthusiasm for the military calling prevented his becoming a courtier. By the death of his mother in 1770, and of his grandfather a short time after, he became possessed of great wealth, which, being entirely at his own control, surrounded him with a crowd of fawning flatterers. At the age of fifteen he became a page to Queen Marie Antoinette, and was enrolled a member of the Mousquetaires du Roi, the body-guard of the king, which was composed solely of the descendants of the most highly titled families in France. Through the influence of the queen, he was promoted to the rank of a commissioned officer in this corps. Speaking of which, he said “that his military services only interrupted his studies on review days.”

At the age of sixteen La Fayette was married to the Comtesse de Noailles, daughter of the Duke d’Ayen. Madame de La Fayette herself gives the following account of her somewhat strange wooing.

“I was scarcely twelve years old, when M. de La Fayette was proposed to my mother for one of us. He himself was only fourteen. His extreme youth, no parents to guide him,—having lost all his near relatives, and having no one in whom he could repose confidence,—a large fortune already in his possession, which my mother looked upon as a dangerous gift—all these considerations made her at first refuse him, notwithstanding the good opinion she had acquired of his personal qualities. She persisted several months in her refusal; but my father was not discouraged, and as one of his friends observed to him that my mother had gone too far ever to change her mind, he did justice to her straightforwardness in the midst of his anger against her. ‘You do not know Madame d’Ayen,’ he said; ‘however far she may have gone, you will see that she will give way like a child if you prove to her that she is in the wrong; but, on the other hand, she will never yield if she does not see her mistake.’

“Accordingly, when she was told that her daughter would not leave her during the first years of her marriage, and that it would only be celebrated at the end of two years, after M. de La Fayette had finished his education, she accepted him whom she cherished ever after as the most tenderly beloved son, whom she valued from the first moment that she became acquainted with him, and who alone could have sustained the strength of my heart after having lost her.

“It was some time after my mother’s consent that I was spoken to of M. de La Fayette, towards whom I was already attracted by feeble forerunners of that deep and tender affection which every day has united us more and more in the midst of all the vicissitudes of this life, in the midst of the blessings and misfortunes which have filled it for the last twenty-four years.

“With what pleasures I learned that, for more than a year, my mother had looked upon him and loved him as a son! She told me all the good she had heard with regard to him, all she thought of him herself, and I saw that he already felt for her that filial affection which was to be the blessing of my life. She tried to calm my poor weak brain, which was over-excited by the importance of the coming event. She taught me to pray—she prayed herself—for the blessings of Heaven on my future happiness. As I had the happiness of remaining with her, my only feelings were those of deep emotion. I was then fourteen and a half.”

La Fayette’s wife brought to him a fortune, which, together with his own inheritance, gave him a yearly revenue of $37,500.

The young marquis is thus described at this time: “He was then a handsome young man, of commanding figure and pleasing features, notwithstanding his deep red hair. His forehead, though receding, was fine; his eyes clear hazel, and his mouth and chin delicately formed, exhibiting beauty rather than strength. The expression of his countenance was strongly indicative of a generous and gallant spirit, with an air of conscious greatness.

“His manners were frank and amiable, his movements light and graceful. Formed, both by nature and education, to be the ornament of a court, and already distinguished by his varied and attractive qualities in the circle of his noble acquaintance, his free principles were neither withered by the sunshine of royalty, nor weakened by flattery and temptation. He dressed in a costume then worn by a gentleman who affected not the extreme of fashion, nor the reverse. His bearing was elegant, full of vivacity, and his conversational powers were of a high order, and their activity varied much with his moods, sometimes mild and winning, and again ardent and enthusiastic.”

In the summer of 1776 La Fayette, as an officer of the French army, was stationed on military duty in the citadel of Metz. At this time he was little over eighteen years of age. Through the Duke of Gloucester, a brother of the king of England, La Fayette first learned of the struggles in America. The Duke of Gloucester had been exiled from the court of Great Britain on account of his impolitic marriage, and was then at Metz. The duke was constantly receiving reports of the American struggle for independence, and he openly described the plans of the British ministry to crush this uprising of the colonists. La Fayette’s fiery ardor in the cause of liberty was quickened at the news of the oppressed Americans, fighting with such vast odds against them, bravely defying the most powerful nation on the globe.

La Fayette immediately resigned his position at Metz, and hastened to Paris, determined to devote his life and fortune to the aid of the courageous band of patriots who had just declared their independence.

Knowing the opposition he would meet from family, friends, and the government, he made his preparations with the greatest secrecy, not even revealing his intentions to his wife, to whom he was most devoted. His heaven-born principles of liberty could no longer be kept in check by inaction, and he was ready to sacrifice every personal interest in life to the cause of oppressed humanity.

After having partially completed his arrangements, La Fayette disclosed his scheme to his relative the Count de Broglie. The count was bitterly opposed to the undertaking, and pictured to La Fayette all the difficulties and dangers of the enterprise. “Your uncle perished in the wars in Italy,” said he; “your father fell in the battle of Minden; and now I will not be accessory to the ruin of the only remaining branch of the family.”

But nothing could quench the ardor of the dauntless La Fayette. He found in the Baron de Kalb a kindred sympathy, and through the baron, the Marquis de La Fayette was introduced to Mr. Silas Deane, who had been sent by the American Congress to negotiate with the French government. La Fayette made known to Mr. Deane his generous desire to offer his personal services in the American war. Whereupon Mr. Deane gave to him the following paper:—

“The desire which the Marquis de La Fayette shows of serving among the troops of the United States of North America, and the interest which he takes in the justice of their cause, makes him wish to distinguish himself in this war, and to render himself as useful as he possibly can. But not thinking that he can obtain leave of his family to pass the seas and to serve in a foreign country till he can go as a general officer, I have thought that I could not better serve my country and those who have entrusted me, than by granting to him, in the name of the very honorable Congress, the rank of major-general, which I beg the states to confirm and ratify to him, and to deliver him the commission to hold and take rank from this day with the general officers of the same degree.

“His high birth, his alliances, the great dignities which his family hold at this court, his considerable estates in this realm, his personal merit, his reputation, his disinterestedness, and above all, his zeal for the liberty of our provinces, are such as to induce me alone to promise him the rank of major-general in the name of the United States. In witness of which I have signed these presents this 7th day of December, 1776.

“Silas Deane.”

“The secrecy,” says La Fayette, “with which this negotiation and my preparations were made, appears almost a miracle; family, friends, ministers, French spies, and English spies, all were kept completely in the dark as to my intentions.”

But just at this time news of disastrous defeats in the Revolutionary army reached France. The bells of London rang out joyful peals at this welcome intelligence; but many sympathizing hearts in Paris saddened at this dire misfortune to the little band fighting for their rightful independence. The court of Versailles had not yet openly espoused the American cause, and now Louis XVI. and others, friendly to the Americans, waited for more encouraging prospects before lending their aid. But not so the liberty-loving La Fayette. He was never so great as when in the midst of the most stupendous difficulties, and he was never so true and faithful and staunch in his patriotic principles, as when the cause to which he was attached hung trembling betwixt victory and defeat. Discouragements but nerved him to new ardor; obstacles but strengthened his determination to overcome every barrier in the way of his successful progress. His was truly a soul and nature most eminently fitted for the important part he was called upon to take in the struggle for liberty and freedom.

At this time affairs in the new world were in a most desperate condition. The battle of Brooklyn had been fought, resulting in the total rout of the continental forces, and the evacuation of Long Island. New York, after an heroic resistance, had been given up to the British. General Howe was master of Forts Washington and Lee. General Washington, with the remnants of the army, with tattered uniforms and scanty food, was retreating before the foe. The country was in despair. Dark indeed were the clouds which threw their shadows over sorrowful homes and the suffering patriots of the struggling nation.

LOUIS XVI.

Even the American commissioners at Paris were paralyzed by this dreadful blow. They dared not urge the French further in the behalf of their stricken country, which seemed doomed to defeat. They even counselled La Fayette to abandon his project of enlisting in their cause, representing to him that their affairs were now so desperate that they could not offer him a passage to America, nor any assurance of success should he venture to go. But La Fayette’s love of liberty was not dependent upon success or defeat. His principles were as unflinching in disaster as when crowned with victory; and to La Fayette’s courage America in a large measure owes her ultimate success. Study the history of those times, and then try to answer the question, What would have been the result of the American Revolution, without the aid of La Fayette?

To the discouraged commissioners, La Fayette made this noble reply:—

“I thank you for your frankness, but now is precisely the moment to serve your cause; the more people are discouraged, the greater utility will result from my departure. Until now you have only seen my ardor in your cause, but that may not prove at present wholly useless. If you cannot furnish me with a vessel, I will purchase one and freight it at my own expense, to convey your despatches and my person to the shores of America.”

With unflagging labor La Fayette now occupied himself in carrying out his promised plan. From his own estates he raised the money necessary for the expedition, and prepared to purchase and equip a vessel. King Louis, owing to the recent reverses in America, began to distrust the expediency of an open alliance. La Fayette, being suspected of favoring the American cause, was constantly watched by French and English spies. To escape the knowledge of his family and the royal surveillance, the ship was purchased through La Fayette’s friend, Mr. Duboismartin, who warmly sympathized with his liberal principles. In the midst of these preparations La Fayette was sent by the French government on a diplomatic mission to London. Lest he should excite suspicion by refusal, La Fayette departed for England with his associate, the Prince de Poix. On reaching London, it was a significant fact that before La Fayette paid his respects to the British court, he sought an interview with Bancroft, the American.

La Fayette was received at the English court with every mark of distinguished honor, but court flatteries were little now to his taste. He was yearning to return to Paris, to continue his preparations for his chivalrous project.

“At the end of three weeks,” he writes, “when it became necessary for me to return home, while refusing to accompany my uncle, the ambassador, to court, I confided to him my strong desire to take a trip to Paris. He suggested that he should say that I was ill during my absence. I should not have made use of this stratagem myself, but did not object to his doing so.”

Hastening back to Paris, he continued his secret preparations. Without making known his return to any of his friends, with the exception of those interested in his plans, La Fayette set out for Bordeaux, where a ship was being equipped for him. But information regarding his mysterious manœuvres was now communicated to the court of Versailles, and led to an order for his arrest. La Fayette, being warned, departed to Passage, a Spanish port, intending to embark for America from there. He now openly avowed his intentions, and declared that nothing should induce him to relinquish his plans.

MARIE ANTOINETTE.

But now his firmness was put to the severest test. Letters arrived from his family, containing the bitterest reproaches. He was even accused of want of parental care and gross neglect of his wife and home. This was indeed hard to bear. La Fayette was deeply in love with his winsome and affectionate wife. But with an unselfishness which amounted to the sublimity of heroism, his young wife restrained her tears, lest he should be blamed, and bravely determined to bear the parting uncomplainingly. Such a heroine as she afterwards proved herself to be made her a truly worthy companion for her hero-husband.

Letters came, also, under kingly authority, forbidding his embarkation for America, threatening severe displeasure in case of disobedience. Sovereign displeasure, La Fayette was well aware, meant liability to the confiscation of all his property, and public disgrace. Feigning obedience, La Fayette returned to Bordeaux, and wrote to the ministry, requesting permission to carry out his plans, representing the benefits which France would derive by the wresting of this coveted land from proud England. But the king was not prepared to excite the wrath of his powerful neighbor, and no reply was sent directly to La Fayette, though he was made to understand, through friends, that his petition had been refused.

He shortly afterwards received orders to proceed to Marseilles, and join himself to the Duke d’Ayen, who was going into Italy. La Fayette now determined to brave all hazards. He accordingly departed ostensibly for Marseilles, but soon changed his route and went directly to Passage, and there embarked on his gallant ship Victory, and unfurled the sails, pointing the prow of his vessel towards the land of liberty. As soon as it was ascertained that La Fayette had gone, despatches were sent to arrest him at the West Indies. But La Fayette, suspecting this, ordered his captain to steer directly for America.

His wearisome voyage lasted for two months. Seasickness added its discomforts to the anxieties, regrets, and aspiring longings which made keen warfare in his saddened heart. Would his wife forgive him for this seeming desertion? Would his country renounce him? Would his unselfish and magnanimous sacrifice avail in the cause of liberty, which was the ruling passion of his life? Weak with sickness and tempest-tossed, he addressed to his wife these pathetic letters:—

“On board the Victory, May 30, 1777.

“... How many fears and anxieties enhance the keen anguish I feel at being separated from all that I love most fondly in the world! How have you borne my second departure? Have you loved me less? Have you pardoned me? Have you reflected that, at all events, I must equally have been parted from you—wandering about in Italy, dragging on an inglorious life, surrounded by the persons most opposed to my projects and to my manner of thinking? All these reflections did not prevent me from experiencing the most bitter grief when the moment arrived for quitting my native shores. Your sorrow, and that of my friends, all rushed upon my thoughts; and my heart was torn by a thousand painful feelings. I could not, at that instant, find any excuse for my own conduct. If you could know all that I have suffered, and the melancholy days that I have passed while thus flying from all that I love best in the world! Must I join to this affliction the grief of hearing that you do not pardon me? I should, in truth, my love, be too unhappy.”

Again he writes:—

“On board the Victory, June 7.

“I am still floating upon this dreary plain, the most wearisome of all human habitations. To console myself a little I think of you and of my friends. I think of the pleasure of seeing you again. How delightful will be the moment of my arrival! I shall hasten to surprise and embrace you. I shall, perhaps, find you with your children. To think, only, of that happy moment is an inexpressible pleasure to me—do not fancy that it is distant; although the time of my absence will appear, I confess, very long to me, yet we shall meet sooner than you can expect. While defending the liberty which I adore, I shall enjoy perfect freedom myself; I but offer my services to that interesting Republic from motives of the purest kind, unmixed with ambition or private views; her happiness and my glory are my only incentives to the task. I hope, that for my sake, you will become a good American, for that feeling is worthy of every noble heart. The happiness of America is intimately connected with the happiness of all mankind. She will become the safe and respected asylum of virtue, integrity, toleration, equality, and tranquil happiness.”

CHAPTER II.

Arrival in America—Letter to his Wife from Charleston—La Fayette’s First Impressions of America—Letter from Petersburg—Arrival in Philadelphia—Chilling Reception by Congress—La Fayette’s Magnanimous Offer—Resolution passed by Congress—The First Meeting between Liberty’s Knight and the “Man of the Age”—Washington’s Kindly Reception of the Young Marquis—Letter from Franklin to Washington regarding La Fayette—Battle of Brandywine—La Fayette wounded—Letter to his Wife from Philadelphia—La Fayette in the Care of the Moravian Society—Letter to his Wife—La Fayette’s Home Life described by his Daughter Virginie—La Fayette again in the Field—The Battle of Gloucester—Congress commissions the Marquis to the Command of a Division—Winter Quarters at Valley Forge—Letter from La Fayette to his Father-in-law, the Duke d’Ayen—His Impressions regarding American Affairs—A Treacherous Intrigue against Washington—La Fayette’s Manly Letter to him—Washington’s Noble Reply—The New Board of War—La Fayette appointed to the Command of the Expedition into Canada—His Letter to Washington from Albany—Expedition to Canada abandoned—La Fayette’s Return to Valley Forge—Sir William Howe outwitted by the Young Marquis—La Fayette’s Influence in the Army—Death of La Fayette’s Little Daughter—His Touching Letter to his Wife.

“When Freedom from her mountain height

Unfurled her standard to the air,

She tore the azure robe of night

And set the stars of glory there.”—Drake.

ON the 14th of June, 1777, La Fayette landed at Winyau Bay, about sixty miles northeast from Charleston. Nature had clothed herself in her loveliest garb to welcome the knight of liberty who had sacrificed wealth and luxury and the gay life of courts, to unsheathe his sword in this new land in defence of freedom.

It was midnight under the soft June skies. The stars glowed in benediction, and the moon shed a calm radiance over the scene. As the canoe conveyed the travellers up the picturesque bay, the wooded land beyond seemed to stretch out its leafy hands of welcome, and the air was perfumed with the delicious fragrance of innumerable flowers. Such was America’s greeting to her brave defender.

Of this, let La Fayette’s own letters speak. Back to the love of his heart, the wife whose constant devotion was his guiding star, fly quickly his thoughts, on the swift wings of affection, and he hastens to pen these lines:—

“June 19.

“I landed at Charleston, after having sailed for several days along a coast swarming with hostile vessels. On my arrival here every one told me that my ship would undoubtedly be taken, because two English frigates had blockaded the harbor. I even sent, both by land and by sea, orders to the captain to put the men on shore, and burn the vessels, if he had still the power of doing so. Eh bien! by a most extraordinary piece of good fortune, a sudden gale of wind having blown away the frigates for a short time, my vessel arrived at noonday, without having encountered friend or foe. At Charleston I have met General Howe, a general officer now engaged in service. The governor of the state is expected this evening from the country. All the persons with whom I wished to be acquainted have shown me the greatest attention and politeness—not European politeness merely. I can only feel gratitude for the reception tendered me, although I have not yet thought proper to enter into any details respecting my future prospects and arrangements. I wish to see the Congress first. I hope to set out in two days for Philadelphia, which is a land journey of more than two hundred and fifty leagues. We shall divide into small parties. I have already purchased horses and light carriages for this purpose.

“I shall now speak to you, my love, about the country and its inhabitants, who are as agreeable as my enthusiasm led me to imagine. Simplicity of manner, kindness of heart, love of country and of liberty, and a delightful state of equality are universal. The richest and the poorest men are completely on a level; and, although there are some immense fortunes in this country, I may challenge any one to point out the slightest difference in their respective manner toward each other. I first saw and judged of a country life at Major Huger’s house. I am at present in this city, where I notice a resemblance to English customs, except that I find more simplicity here than in England.

“Charleston is one of the best built, handsomest, and most agreeable cities that I have ever seen. The American women are very pretty, and have great simplicity of character. The extreme neatness of their appearance is truly delightful. Cleanliness is everywhere even more studiously regarded here than in England. What gave me most pleasure is to see how completely the citizens are all brethren of one family. In America there appear to be none poor, and none even who can be called peasants. Each citizen has some property, and all citizens have the same rights as the richest individual or landed proprietor in the country. The inns are very different from those in Europe; the host and hostess sit at table with you, and do the honors of a comfortable meal, and when you depart you pay your bill without being obliged to fee attendants. If you dislike going to inns, you always find country houses, in which you will be received as a good American, with the same attention that you expect to find at a friend’s house in Europe.

“My own reception has been peculiarly agreeable. To have been merely my travelling companion suffices to secure the kindest welcome. I have just passed five hours at a large dinner, given in compliment to me by an individual of this town. Generals Howe and Moultrie, and several officers of my suite, were present. We drank each other’s health, and endeavored to talk English, which I am beginning to speak a little. I shall pay a visit to-morrow, with these gentlemen, to the governor of the state, and make the last arrangements for my departure. The next day the commanding officer here will take me to see the town and its environs, and I shall then set out to join the army.

“From the agreeable life I lead in this country, from the sympathy which makes me feel as much at ease with the inhabitants as if I had known them twenty years, the similarity between their manner of thinking and my own, my love of glory and liberty, you might imagine that I am very happy; but you are not with me, my dearest love; my friends are not with me; and there is no happiness for me when far away from you and them. I often ask you if you still love, but I put that question still more often to myself, and my heart ever answers yes. I trust that my heart does not deceive me. I am inexpressibly anxious to hear from you, and hope to find some letters at Philadelphia. My only fear is lest the privateer which was to bring them to me may have been captured on her way. Although I can easily imagine that I have excited the special displeasure of the English, by taking the liberty of coming hither in spite of them and landing before their very face, yet I must confess that we shall be even more than on a par if they succeed in catching that vessel, the object of my fondest hopes, by which I am expecting to receive your letters.

“I entreat you to send me both long and frequent letters. You are not sufficiently conscious of the joy with which I shall receive them. Embrace, most tenderly, my Henriette; may I add, embrace our children! The father of those poor children is a wanderer, but he is, nevertheless, a good, honest man, a good father, warmly attached to his family, and a good husband also, for he loves his wife most tenderly. The night is far advanced, the heat intense, and I am devoured by mosquitoes; but the best countries, as you perceive, have their inconveniences. Adieu, my love, adieu.”

Again La Fayette writes to his wife from Petersburg, Va., July 17, 1777:—

“I am now eight days’ journey from Philadelphia, in the beautiful state of Virginia. All fatigue is over, and I fear that my martial labors will be very light if it be true that General Howe has left New York, to go I know not whither. But all the accounts I receive are so uncertain that I cannot form any fixed opinion until I reach my destination.

“You must have learned the particulars of the beginning of my journey. You know that I set out in a brilliant manner, in a carriage, and I must now tell you that we are all on horseback,—having broken the carriage according to my usual praiseworthy custom,—and I expect soon to write to you that we have arrived on foot. The journey is somewhat fatiguing; but, although several of my comrades have suffered a great deal, I have scarcely, myself, been conscious of fatigue. The captain, who takes charge of this letter, will perhaps pay you a visit. I beg you, in that case, to receive him with great kindness.

“The farther I advance to the north, the better pleased I am with the country and its inhabitants. There is no attention or kindness that I do not receive, although many scarcely know who I am. But I will write all this to you more in detail from Philadelphia.”

As soon as La Fayette arrived in Philadelphia, he presented himself before Congress, then in session. The moment was inauspicious. Mr. Deane had given so many foreigners the same promises, that Congress found itself in a very embarrassing situation. Many of these foreigners were brave men, and true, who had come to America with philanthropic motives, but others were mere adventurers, and Congress therefore received the young Marquis de La Fayette with coldness and indifference, which he illy deserved, and which in the light of after events proved a mortifying mistake. La Fayette laid his stipulations with Mr. Deane before Congress, but, with surprise and chagrin, he was informed by the chairman of the Committee on Foreign Affairs that there was little hope that his request would be granted.

Imagine the feelings of the noble young marquis of nineteen. He had sacrificed home, family, friends, and fortune, to give his aid to this struggling nation, and his immense personal sacrifices were thus insultingly thrown into his face. What blindness in Congress! What heroic magnanimity in La Fayette! Pride and patriotism battled in his sensitive soul. But unselfish patriotism conquered, and never does he appear more truly great than at this moment. Seizing a pen, he writes to Congress this brief but immortal note:—

“After the sacrifices I have made, I have a right to exact two favors: one is, to serve at my own expense; the other is, to serve as a volunteer.”

Astonished at such unprecedented generosity, and conscious[conscious] of their mistake in classing the young marquis with other foreigners, who were actuated by selfish avarice and love of adventure, Congress accordingly passed the following preamble and resolution on the 31st of July, 1777:—

“Whereas, the Marquis de La Fayette, out of his great zeal in the cause of liberty in which the United States are engaged, has left his family and connections, and, at his own expense, come over to offer his service to the United States, without pension or particular allowance, and is anxious to risk his life in our cause;

“Resolved, That his services be accepted, and that in consideration of his zeal, illustrious family and connections, he have the rank and commission of a Major-General in the army of the United States.”

La Fayette’s first meeting with Washington was at a dinner party in Philadelphia, on the 1st of August. The commander-in-chief looked with sympathy upon the noble young hero, and their hearts were quickly united in a bond of friendship which ignored diversity of age, country, and experience, for they mutually recognized a self-sacrificing devotion to the sacred and sublime cause of human liberty.

“When the company were about to separate, Washington took La Fayette aside, spoke to him very kindly, complimented him on the noble spirit he had shown, and the sacrifices he had made in favor of the American cause, and then told him that he should be pleased if he would make the headquarters of the commander-in-chief his home, establish himself there whenever he thought proper, and consider himself at all times as one of his family; adding in a tone of pleasantry, that he could not promise him the luxuries of a court, or even the conveniences which his former habits might have rendered essential to comfort; but since he had become an American soldier he would doubtless contrive to accommodate himself to the character he had assumed, and submit with a good grace to the customs, manners, and privations of the republican army.”

Little was the bold spirit of La Fayette dismayed at the prospect of difficulties and privations. His soul could not be confined by hardships, dangers, or even defeats. He eagerly accepted the invitation of Washington, and well repaid his kindly courtesy. It was about this time that the following letter was written from Paris by Franklin to Washington:—

“Sir: The Marquis de La Fayette, a young nobleman of great expectations and exceedingly beloved here, is by this time probably with you. By some misapprehension in his contract with the merchants of Bordeaux he was prevented from using the produce of the cargo he carried over, and so was left without a supply of money. His friends here have sent him over about £500 sterling, and have proposed sending him more; but on reflection, knowing the extreme generosity of his disposition, and fearing that some of his necessitous and artful countrymen may impose on his goodness, they wish to put his money into the hands of some discreet friend, who may supply him from time to time, and by that means knowing his expenses, may take occasion to advise him if necessary, from too much imposition.

“They accordingly have desired us to name such a person to them. We have not been able to think of one so capable and so suitable from the influence of situation to perform that kind office as General Washington, under whose eye the gentleman will probably be.

“We beg, therefore, in his behalf, what his friends out of respect would not take the liberty of asking, that Your Excellency would be pleased to furnish him with what money he may want in moderation, and take his drafts payable to us for sums paid him, which we shall receive here, and apply to the public service.

“We also join with his family in their earnest request that you would favor him with your counsels, which you may be assured will be an act of benevolence gratefully remembered and acknowledged by a number of very worthy persons here who have interested themselves extremely in the welfare of that amiable young nobleman.

“With the greatest respect we have the honor to be, Sir, Your Excellency’s.”

The commission which La Fayette had received from Congress was, as yet, only an honorary one, conferring upon him no real command. La Fayette was now with Washington at his headquarters. He was yearning for active duties, and impatient to prove by personal exploits his zeal in the cause of liberty. Washington wrote to Congress regarding La Fayette’s position, but received the unsatisfactory reply, “that the commission given to the Marquis de La Fayette was only honorary, and that he could not yet receive an appointment.” Again did the generous spirit of the young hero meet only a cold rebuff in answer to his warm offers of personal service. He determined now to win his position by his own actions, and the opportunity was not long in arriving.

On the 11th of September, 1777, was fought the battle of Brandywine. “The British fleet under Sir William Howe, whose movements along the American coast at one time seeming to threaten Philadelphia, and at another appearing to meditate an attack upon Charleston, had caused much apprehension and doubt, had, at last, entered the Chesapeake; and, having proceeded up the Elk River as far as it was safely navigable, landed the forces at the ferry on the 25th of August. The determination of an assault upon Philadelphia was no longer questionable. The day before Sir William Howe landed, General Washington, to inspire the citizens with confidence, paraded his troops through the streets of Philadelphia, and then proceeded boldly to the Brandywine. The popular clamor, favored by the voice of Congress, demanded a battle, and Washington determined to risk one, though he greatly apprehended that he could not successfully compete with the strength of the battalions marching against him. But a battle, though disastrous, would be less injurious than to suffer the enemy to advance to Philadelphia without opposition.

“Washington, having halted for a few days on the banks of the Brandywine to refresh his troops, and get a better knowledge of the face of the country and the plans of the enemy, sent forward two divisions under Green and Stephens, who proceeded nearer to the head of the Elk, and encamped behind White Clay Creek. Three miles farther on, at Iron Hill, was stationed General Maxwell, at the head of an effective corps of light infantry, formed from a regiment of Morgan’s riflemen, which had been detached to the northern army.

“Posting the cavalry along the lines, Washington, with the main body, crossed the Brandywine, and took up his position behind Red Clay Creek, on the road which Sir William Howe would have to traverse on his march to Philadelphia. La Fayette was with him, and watched with the liveliest interest the preparations for the approaching contest. These were made with consummate adroitness and prudence; but Sir William Howe was no common foe; and the direction which he seemed contemplating for his vastly superior force decided Washington that a change of his own position was necessary. A council of war was held on the night of the 9th of September, when it was determined to retire behind the Brandywine, and meet the enemy near Chadd’s Ford, from the heights which ranged along upon the opposite side of the river.

“On the morning of the 11th of September, soon after daybreak, La Fayette sprang to his feet at the intelligence that the whole British army was in motion, and advancing towards them on the direct road leading over Chadd’s Ford. General Maxwell had been advantageously stationed, so that he could command this road from the hills, on the south side of the river; and the first action accordingly began with him.

“The foe advanced in two magnificent columns, the right commanded by General Knyphausen, and the left by Lord Cornwallis. The plan of Howe was, that Knyphausen’s division should occupy the attention of the Americans, by making repeated feints of attempting the passage of the ford, while Cornwallis should make a long sweep up the river, and cross it at Birmingham. Knyphausen accordingly advanced with his column, and speedily dislodging General Maxwell from his post, forced him to cross over, though with but little loss. A furious cannonading was instantly begun, and other demonstrations made, which indicated the intention of the British immediately to attempt the passage of the ford. The day was occupied in preventing this, till eleven o’clock in the morning, when the movement of Cornwallis was first announced to Washington. A smile of delight played upon his countenance, and he immediately determined upon one of those bold but judicious plans for which he was remarkable.

“Placing himself at the head of the centre and left wing of the army, he resolved to cross the river in person, and overwhelm Knyphausen before Cornwallis could be summoned back to his aid. His ranks were already formed for the passage, and his troops had answered to the proposition with deafening shouts, when a messenger arrived with the intelligence that Cornwallis had only made a feint of crossing the fords above, and was now actually bringing his division down the southern side of the river, to re-unite with Knyphausen. The tidings were agony to Washington; though, false, they came in a form which constrained him to believe them true, and his bold project was accordingly abandoned. His troops were impatient for the encounter, but for two hours he could only give them quiet directions, while he endeavored, in distressing suspense, to gain some clew to the movements of the enemy on the opposite side.

“At about two o’clock in the afternoon his uncertainty was removed, when certain intelligence reached him, that Lord Cornwallis, after having made a circuit of nearly seventeen miles, had forded the river above its forks, and, accompanied by Sir William Howe, was advancing upon him. Close action was immediately prepared for, and all along the American lines ran the accents of welcome for the conflict. The three divisions which formed the right wing, under Generals Sullivan, Stirling, and Stephens, were detached, and, moving up the Brandywine, fronted the British column marching down the river. Selecting an advantageous piece of ground near Birmingham, with the river on their left, and, having both flanks covered by a thick wood, they hastily formed and awaited the attack.

“La Fayette, who had kept by the side of Washington during these scenes, and marked them with absorbing interest, soon saw that the divisions designed to meet Cornwallis were to receive most of the heavy blows of that day’s battle, and petitioned and obtained permission to join them. A burst of enthusiasm greeted his arrival, as he threw himself into the midst of the troops, eagerly awaiting the approach of the foe. The opportunity which he sought was not wanting long. The host was visible, sweeping in grand and imposing array over the plain before them. When he saw the enemy, Lord Cornwallis formed in the finest order, and hastening forward, his first line opened a brisk fire of musketry and artillery upon them. It was about half-past four when the battle began. The Americans returned the fire with great injury, but the impetuosity with which the English and Hessian troops threw themselves upon their ranks was more than they could withstand.

“For a time both parties fought with unparalleled bravery, and the carnage was terrible. For some time it was a doubtful struggle, but the fiery emulation which stimulated the English and the Hessians at last compelled the Americans to give way before them.

“The right wing first yielded, then the left, while the central division, where La Fayette was bravely fighting, was the last to breast the storm, which now, concentrating its strength, spent its fury upon those devoted ranks. Firm as a rock, they bore themselves proudly against the tide of victory, which rolled in fearfully upon them. By a skilful manœuvre, Cornwallis had managed to separate them from the two wings, when defeat became inevitable. The whole fire of the enemy was united against them, and the confusion became extreme. The troops at first wavered, then rallied, then wavered again, and at last fell into a disorderly retreat. It was in vain that La Fayette endeavored to check them; defying danger, he stood almost single-handed against the on-coming host, and endeavored to reanimate his flying comrades by his own example. It was all fruitless. A ball struck him, and as he fell, those remaining on the field gave way.

“Gimat, aide-de-camp to the Marquis, assisted his master in getting upon a horse, and, though the blood was flowing profusely from his wound, La Fayette reluctantly turned and joined the fugitives. General Washington at this moment arrived with fresh troops upon the field. Greene’s divisions had marched four miles in forty-two minutes, but were too late to avert the disasters of the day. La Fayette, as soon as he saw Washington, started to join him, but loss of blood obliged him to stop and have his wound bandaged. While submitting to this a band of soldiers came upon him so suddenly that he had barely time to remount for flight, escaping, as by a miracle, the shower of bullets which whistled around his form.

“A general rout was the order of the day. The road to Chester was crowded with the retreating. Knyphausen had forced the passage of Chadd’s Ford, notwithstanding the obstinate resistance of Generals Wayne and Maxwell, who had been left to defend it. Washington found that all that could be done was to stay the pursuit. So successful were his efforts, and those of General Greene, that, as night approached, Sir William Howe called in his troops and gave over the chase. La Fayette was unwearied in his endeavors to save the army. Forgetting himself, his wound, and everything but this one object, he exerted himself to the utmost amid the darkness and dreadful confusion of that night, to restore order among the fleeing and despairing soldiery. At Chester Bridge, twelve miles from the scene of battle, he was in part successful.”

The generals and the commander-in-chief arrived, and La Fayette, at last fainting from loss of blood and fatigue, was borne away to receive the attention which his situation demanded. The next day he wrote to his wife as follows:—

“Philadelphia, Sept. 12th.

“I must begin by telling you that I am perfectly well, because I must end by telling you that we fought seriously last night, and that we were not the stronger party on the field of battle. Our Americans, after having stood their ground for some time, ended at length by being routed. While endeavoring to rally them, the English honored me with a musket ball, which slightly wounded me in the leg; but it is a trifle, my dearest love: the ball touched neither bone nor nerve, and I have escaped with the obligation of lying upon my back for some time, which puts me much out of humor. I hope you will feel no anxiety. This event ought, on the contrary, rather to reassure you, since I am incapacitated from appearing on the field for some time. I have resolved to take great care of myself; be convinced of this, my love. This affair will, I fear, be attended with bad consequences for America, but we will endeavor, if possible, to repair the evil. You must have received many letters from me, unless the English be as ill-disposed towards my epistles as towards my legs. I have not yet received one letter, and I am most impatient to hear from you. It is dreadful to be reduced to hold no communication except by letter with a person whom one loves as I love you, and as I shall ever love you, until I draw my latest breath. I have not missed a single opportunity, not even the most indirect one, of writing to you. Do the same on your part, my dearest life, if you love me. Adieu; I am forbidden to write longer.”

After the battle of Brandywine Congress adjourned to Bristol, as Philadelphia was thought to be in danger; and La Fayette was carried to Bethlehem and placed in the care of the Moravian Society until his wound should be healed. In October he thus wrote to his wife:—

“I wrote to you, my dearest love, the 12th of September; the twelfth was the day after the eleventh, and I have a little tale to relate to you concerning that eleventh day. To render my action more meritorious, I might tell you that prudent reflections induced me to remain for some weeks in bed, safe sheltered from all danger; but I must acknowledge that I was encouraged to take this measure by a slight wound which I met with, I know not how, for I did not, in truth, expose myself to peril. It was the first conflict at which I had been present; so you see how very rare engagements are. It will be the last of this campaign, or, in all probability, at least, the last great battle; and if anything should occur, you see that I could not myself be present.

“My first occupation was to write you the day after that affair; I told you that it was a mere trifle, and I was right; all I fear is, that you may not have received my letter.

“As General Howe is giving, meanwhile, rather pompous details of his American exploits to the king his master, if he should write that I am wounded, he may also write that I am killed, which would not cost him anything; but I hope that my friends, and you especially, will not give faith to the reports of those persons who last year dared to publish that General Washington and all the general officers of his army, being in a boat together, had been upset, and every individual drowned. But let us speak about the wound: it is only a flesh wound, and has touched neither bone nor nerve. The surgeons are astonished at the rapidity with which it heals; they are in an ecstasy of joy each time they dress it, and pretend it is the finest thing in the world. For my part, I think it most disagreeable, painful, and wearisome; but tastes often differ. If a man, however, wished to be wounded for his amusement only, he should come and examine how I have been struck, that he might be struck precisely in the same manner. This, my dearest love, is what I pompously style my wound, to give myself airs and render myself interesting.

“I must now give you your lesson as wife of an American general officer. They will say to you, ‘They have been beaten’; you must answer, ‘That is true; but when two armies of equal number meet in the field, old soldiers have naturally the advantage over new ones; they have, besides, had the pleasure of killing a great many of the enemy, many more than they have lost!’ They will afterwards add, ‘All this is very well; but Philadelphia is taken, the capital of America, the rampart of liberty!’ You must politely answer: ‘You are all great fools! Philadelphia is a poor, forlorn town, exposed on every side, the harbor of which was already closed; though the residence of Congress lent it—I know not why—some degree of celebrity.’ This is the famous city which, be it added, we shall, sooner or later, make them yield back to us. If they continue to persecute you with questions, you may send them about their business in terms which the Vicomte de Noailles will teach you, for I cannot lose time by talking to you of politics.

“Be perfectly at ease about my wound; all the faculty in America are engaged in my service. I have a friend who has spoken to them in such a manner that I am certain of being well attended to. That friend is General Washington. This excellent man, whose talents and virtues I admired, and whom I have learned to revere as I know him better, has now become my intimate friend. His affectionate interest in me instantly won my heart. I am established in his house, and we live together like two attached brothers, with mutual confidence and cordiality. This friendship renders me as happy as I can possibly be in this country. When he sent his best surgeon to me, he told him to take charge of me as if I were his son, because he loved me with the same affection. Having heard that I wished to rejoin the army too soon, he wrote me a letter full of tenderness, in which he requested me to attend to the perfect restoration of my health. I give you these details, my dearest love, that you may feel quite certain of the care which is taken of me. Among the French officers who have all expressed the warmest interest in me, M. de Gimat, my aide-de-camp, has followed me about like my shadow, both before and since the battle, and has given me every possible proof of attachment. You may thus feel quite secure on this account, both for the present and the future.

“I am at present in the solitude of Bethlehem, which the Abbé Raynal has described so minutely. This establishment is a very interesting one; the fraternity lead an agreeable and very tranquil life—but we will talk over all this on my return. I intend to weary those I love, yourself, of course, in the first place, by the relation of my adventures, for you know that I was always a great chatterbox.

“You must become a prattler also, my love, and say many things for me to Henriette—my poor little Henriette! embrace her a thousand times; talk of me to her, but do not tell her all I deserve to suffer: my punishment will be, not to be recognized by her on my arrival; that is the penance Henriette will impose upon me.”

In the life of Madame de La Fayette, written by her daughter, Madame de Lasteyrie, this touching account is given of La Fayette’s wife at this time.

“In the month of April, 1777, my father carried out his plan of going to America. It is easy to judge of my mother’s grief on receiving tidings so new, so unexpected, and so terrible. In addition to all she was herself suffering; she had the pain of witnessing my grandfather’s anger. ‘The French ladies,’ Lord Stomont, the English ambassador, wrote to his government, ‘blame M. de La Fayette’s family, for having tried to stop him in so noble an enterprise. If the Duc d’Ayen,’ one of them said, ‘crosses such a son-in-law in such an attempt, he must not hope to find husbands for his other daughters.’

“My mother felt that the more she excited pity, the more my father would be censured. All her endeavors were then to conceal the tortures of her heart, preferring to be thought childish or indifferent to bringing down greater blame on his behavior. My mother found much comfort in the kindness shown to her by my grandmother, whose noble mind made her appreciate each detail of her son-in-law’s conduct.

“It was with truly maternal tenderness that she broke to her daughter the different accounts of my father’s departure, of his arrest, of his return to Bordeaux, and of his ultimate embarkation at the Port du Passage in Spain.

“The first accounts of my father’s arrival in America reached my mother a month after the birth of my sister Anastasie. His charming letters, the accounts of his deeds, the success he had already achieved, caused her a delight mingled with apprehensions for the dangers of war. The news of my father having been wounded at the battle of Brandywine reached my mother’s ears, but still more alarming reports were hidden from her.”

After being wounded at Brandywine, La Fayette heard of the birth of his second daughter, Anastasie. He thus tenderly wrote to his adored wife:—

“How happy your safety has made me. Dearest heart, I must speak of it all through my letter, for I can think of nothing else. What rapture to embrace you all,—the mother and the two little girls,—to make them intercede with you for their truant father.”

Concerning this first visit of La Fayette to America Madame de La Fayette herself thus writes:—

“M. de La Fayette executed in April the scheme he had been forming for six months past, of going to serve the cause of independence in America. I loved him tenderly. On hearing the news of his departure, my father and all the family fell into a state of violent anger. My mother, dreading these emotions for me, on account of the state of health I was in, alarmed at the dangers her dearly beloved son had gone to seek so far, having herself, less than anybody in the world, the thirst of ambition and of worldly glory or a taste for enterprise, appreciated, nevertheless, M. de La Fayette’s conduct as it was appreciated two years later by the rest of the world. Totally casting aside all care with regard to the immense expense of such an enterprise, she found, from the first moment, in the manner in which it had been prepared, a motive for distinguishing it from what is termed une folie de jeune homme. His sorrow on leaving his wife and those who were dear to him convinced her that she need not fear for the happiness of my life save in proportion to her fears for his. It was she who gave me the cruel news of his departure, and, with that generous tenderness which was peculiar to her, she tried to comfort me by finding the means of serving M. de La Fayette.

“At that time my mother’s youngest sister married M. de Ségur, one of M. de La Fayette’s friends. My mother devoted to her all the moments she could dispose of, but I was still the continual object of her solicitude. She saw how much good she did me by showing her affection for M. de La Fayette. Whenever M. de La Fayette’s touching letters reached us, I could see how thoroughly she believed in his tenderness for me. At the end of two months my dear Anastasie was born. It seemed as if I already foresaw what a gift God was bestowing on me; from the first moment of her birth I felt that in the midst of the greatest trials I was still capable of joy. My child received her grandmother’s blessing, and was carried by her to the baptismal font.

“The first news from M. de La Fayette arrived on the first of August, one month after Anastasie’s birth. The comfort it gave me was fully shared. My mother was indefatigable in her efforts to obtain some accounts of him, to send him news from us, and to make herself useful to him though separated by so great a distance. The few details which reached us respecting his arrival, and the favorable impression he had made on the public mind in America, did not surprise my mother, but renewed her courage and made her still more thankful to Providence who was so visibly protecting and guiding him. But shortly afterwards we heard that M. de La Fayette had been wounded at the battle of Brandywine. I need not say what were my mother’s feelings on hearing such intelligence. She succeeded in keeping from me the report of his death, which was spread about at that time, and to prevent false news from reaching my ear; she first took me to her father’s place in Burgundy, and then sent my sister and me on a visit to the Comtesse Auguste de La Marck, at Raismes. The Comte de La Marck was Mirabeau’s friend.

“During the winter of 1778 my mother turned all her efforts towards obtaining intelligence from America. We heard occasionally from M. de La Fayette. The alliance between France and the United States caused my mother great satisfaction; I had never seen her take such interest in any political event.”

Thus tenderly this young wife of eighteen was shielded by her mother’s care during this trying absence of the young husband whom she so adored. Regarding the unusual and ideal love existing between La Fayette and his devoted wife in their early married life, their daughter Virginie, afterwards the Marquise de Lasteyrie, thus writes:—

“I do not think it is possible to have an idea of my mother’s way of loving. It was peculiar to herself. Her affection for my father predominated over every other feeling without diminishing any. It might be said she felt for him the most passionate attachment, if that expression was in harmony with the exquisite delicacy which kept her from any sort of jealousy, or, at least, from any of those evil impulses generally attendant upon that feeling. Neither had she ever a moment of exigence. Not only was it impossible for my father ever to perceive a wish that could be unwelcome to him, but, even in the depth of her heart, never did there lurk a bitter feeling. She was fourteen and a half when she married. At that time her mind was violently agitated by religious doubts. Notwithstanding the very tender feeling which drew her towards my father, she was much troubled by the thought of the solemn engagement she was taking at so early an age. All she felt appeared to her beyond her strength, and she placed herself under the protection of God, to whom in the midst of her disquietudes she never ceased to look for support.

“My mother’s grief at my father’s departure to join his regiment made her feel how deeply she was attached to him. She did not leave her paternal home. In consequence of the extreme youth of both my parents, for my father was but sixteen years of age, it had been agreed that they should pass several years at the Hôtel de Noailles, the town residence of my mother’s family.

“The following winter was very gay. My mother as well as her sister frequently went both to the play and to balls. She enjoyed all these pleasures with the liveliness of her age and disposition. Nevertheless, I do not think she ever allowed herself to join in any before it had been proved to her that she was conscientiously obliged to partake in them. Never, even in her earliest youth, did she allow herself to taste a single worldly amusement without being actuated by motives of duty superior to those which forbade them. She did not join in them without reflection, but, once decided, she would enjoy herself thoroughly and without scruple. It is worthy of remark that the religious doubts which tortured her should not have made her less timorous on this point. On the contrary, she was incessantly applying for the grace of God in order to learn the fulness of truth. He granted her prayers; her mind ceased to be troubled. She made her first communion that same year, on the first Sunday after Easter, and gave herself up to God, in whom she continued to trust so faithfully amidst all the vicissitudes of life. Shortly afterwards, her first child, little Henriette, was born.”

Before La Fayette’s wound, received at Brandywine, was sufficiently healed to permit him to wear a boot, he was so impatient to enter into active service, that he offered himself again as a volunteer, and joined an expedition which was then fitting out under General Greene, to operate in New Jersey. Preparations were made to give battle to Lord Cornwallis; but that officer having received large re-enforcements, General Greene, though greatly disappointed, deemed it inexpedient to dare an attack. But young La Fayette could not consent to retire without attempting to strike a blow. He was accordingly placed at the head of a small company, for reconnoitring, and authorized to make an attack if he thought it advisable. While he was examining the enemy’s position, his little band came suddenly upon a picket of four hundred Hessians. La Fayette’s company numbered only three hundred men; but he led them gallantly to the attack, and the Hessians were soon flying before them. La Fayette followed, and the Hessians meeting re-enforcements, turned to meet their brave pursuers. Great as the odds were against him, La Fayette and his valiant band boldly met the enemy, and again put them to flight, pursuing them until dark; they returned to camp with only five men wounded and one dead. Such was the battle of Gloucester.

This heroic action so impressed Congress with the bravery of La Fayette, that they promptly responded to Washington’s renewed request in behalf of the young marquis; and on the 1st of December, 1777, the following resolution was passed:—

“Resolved, That General Washington be informed it is highly agreeable to Congress that the Marquis de La Fayette be appointed to the command of a division in the continental army.”

Three days after, La Fayette was publicly invested with his rank, and placed over the division of Virginia troops, lately lead by General Stephens.

The campaign of 1777 was now drawing to its close. Sir William Howe, having recalled Lord Cornwallis, endeavored to force Washington from his position; but though there were several skirmishes, in which La Fayette distinguished himself, Washington would not be decoyed by his crafty foe, and Howe marched back to Philadelphia without having effected a battle.

The Revolutionary army now went into winter quarters at Valley Forge. La Fayette thus describes the condition of their troops at this time:—

“The unfortunate soldiers were in want of everything; they had neither coats, hats, shirts, nor shoes; their feet and legs froze until they became black, and it was often necessary to amputate them. From want of money they could not obtain either provisions or any means of transport. The colonels were often reduced to two rations, and sometimes to one. The army frequently remained whole days without provisions, and the patient endurance of both soldiers and officers was a miracle, which each moment served to renew. But the sight of their misery prevented new engagements; it was almost impossible to levy recruits; it was easy to desert into the interior of the country. The sacred fires of liberty were not extinguished, it is true, and the majority of the citizens detested British tyranny, but the triumph of the North (Gates’ defeat of Burgoyne) and the tranquillity of the South had lulled to sleep two-thirds of the continent.”

La Fayette endured with uncomplaining patience the greatest privations. He adopted the American dress, habits, and food. He allowed himself to fare no better than his comrades in war; and though his entire life heretofore had been spent in ease and luxury, he repined not at cold and scanty provisions, but rather gloried in his personal sacrifices. He thus writes from Valley Forge to his father-in-law, the Duke d’Ayen, in France:—

“The loss of Philadelphia is far from being so important as it is conceived to be in Europe. If the difference of circumstances, of countries, and of proportions between the two armies were not duly considered, the success of General Gates would appear surprising when compared with the events which have occurred with us, taking into account the superiority of General Washington over General Gates. Our general is a man formed, in truth, for this revolution, which could not have been accomplished without him. I see him more intimately than any other man, and I see that he is worthy of the adoration of his country. His tender friendship for me and his complete confidence in me relating to all political and military subjects, great as well as small, enable me to judge of all the interests he has to conciliate, and all the difficulties he has to conquer.

“I admire each day more fully the excellence of his character and the kindness of his heart. Some foreigners are displeased at not having been employed, although it did not depend on him to employ them; others, whose ambitious projects he would not serve, and some intriguing jealous men, have endeavored to injure his reputation; but his name will be revered in every age by all true lovers of liberty and humanity. Although I may appear to be eulogizing my friend, I believe that the part he makes me act gives me the right of avowing publicly how much I admire and respect him.

“America is most impatiently expecting us to declare for her, and France will one day, I trust, determine to humble the pride of England. This thought, and the measures which America appears determined to pursue, give me great hopes for the glorious establishment of her independence. We are not, I confess, as strong as I expected; but we are strong enough to fight, and we shall do so, I think, with some degree of success. With the assistance of France we shall gain the cause that I cherish, because it is the cause of justice; because it honors humanity; because it is important to my country; and because my American friends and myself are deeply engaged in it. The approaching campaign will be an interesting one. It is said that the English are sending against us some Hanoverians; some time ago they threatened us with what was far worse,—the arrival of some Russians. A slight menace from France would lessen the number of these re-enforcements. The more I see of the English, the more thoroughly convinced I am that it is necessary to speak to them in a loud tone.

“After having wearied you with public affairs, you must not expect to escape without being wearied also with my private affairs. It is impossible to be more agreeably situated in a foreign country than I am. I have only feelings of pleasure to express, and I have each day more reason to be satisfied with the conduct of Congress towards me, although my military occupations have allowed me to become personally acquainted with but few of its members. Those I do know have especially loaded me with marks of kindness and attention. The new president, Mr. Laurens, one of the most respectable men of America, is my particular friend. As to the army, I have had the happiness of obtaining the friendship of every individual; not one opportunity is lost of giving me proofs of it.

“I passed the whole summer without receiving a division, which you know had been my previous intention; I passed all that time at General Washington’s house, where I felt as if I were with a friend of twenty years’ standing. Since my return from Jersey, he has desired me to choose among several brigades the division which may please me best. I have chosen one entirely composed of Virginians. It is weak in point of numbers at present, just in proportion, however, to the weakness of the whole army, and almost in a state of nakedness; but I am promised cloth, of which I shall make clothes, and recruits, of which soldiers must be made, about the same period; but unfortunately the latter is the more difficult task, even for more skilful men than I.

“The task I am performing here, if I have acquired sufficient experience to perform it well, will improve exceedingly my future knowledge. The major-general replaces the lieutenant-general and the field-marshal in their most important functions, and I should have the power of employing to advantage both my talents and experience, if Providence and my extreme youth allowed me to boast of possessing either. I read, I study, I examine, I listen, I reflect; and the result of all is the endeavor to form an opinion into which I infuse as much common sense as possible. I will not talk much for fear of saying foolish things; I will still less risk acting much, for fear of doing foolish things; for I am not disposed to abuse the confidence which the Americans have so kindly placed in me. Such is the plan of conduct which I have followed until now, and which I shall continue to follow; but when some plans occur to me which I believe may become useful when properly rectified, I hasten to impart them to a great judge, who is good enough to say he is pleased with them.

“On the other hand, when my heart tells me that a favorable opportunity offers, I cannot refuse myself the pleasure of participating in the peril; but I do not think that the vanity of success ought to make us risk the safety of an army, or of any portion of it, which may not be formed or calculated for the offensive. If I could make an axiom with the certainty of not saying a foolish thing, I should venture to add that whatever may be our force, we must content ourselves with a completely defensive plan, with the exception, however, of the moment when we may be forced to action, because I think I have perceived that the English troops are more astonished by a brisk attack than by a firm resistance.

“This letter will be given you by the celebrated Adams, whose name must undoubtedly be known to you. As I have never allowed myself to quit the army, I have never seen him. He wished that I should give him letters of introduction to France, especially to yourself. May I hope that you will have the goodness to receive him kindly, and even to give him some information respecting the present state of affairs? I fancied that you would not be sorry to converse with a man whose merit is so universally acknowledged. He desires ardently to succeed in obtaining the esteem of our nation. One of his friends himself told me this.”

About this time a base and treacherous intrigue was formed against Washington. General Gates’ victory over Burgoyne covered his name with a blaze of glory, and censurers of Washington’s prudent policies were not slow in suggesting that Horatio Gates was entitled to the honor of receiving the post of commander-in-chief; and there were not wanting ambitious partisans and disloyal spirits to swell the ranks of the plotting discontents. Treachery and falsehood now joined their crafty hands in fellowship, and together working their machinations, they strove by base insinuations to break down the influence of Washington, and even endeavored to enlist the true-hearted La Fayette in favor of their vile schemes. But the friendship of the young marquis could not be weakened by any artful plot, nor could his firm alliance be shaken by any promises of rank or power.

It was at this time that he sent to Washington this manly and appreciative letter:—

“My Dear General: I went yesterday morning to headquarters, with an intention of speaking to your excellency, but you were too busy, and I shall inform you in this letter what I wished to say.

“I don’t need to tell you that I am sorry for all that has happened for some time past. My sorrow is a necessary consequence of my most tender and respectful friendship for you, which affection is as true and candid as the other sentiments of my heart, and much stronger than so new an acquaintance seems to admit; but another reason to be concerned in the present circumstances is the result of my ardent and perhaps enthusiastic wishes for the happiness and liberty of this country. I see plainly that America can defend herself if proper measures are taken, and now I begin to fear lest she should be lost by herself and her own sons.

“When I was in Europe, I thought that here almost every man was a lover of liberty, and would rather die free than live a slave. You can conceive of my astonishment when I saw that Toryism was as openly professed as Whiggism itself; however, at that time I believed that all good Americans were united together; that the confidence of Congress in you was unbounded. Then I entertained the belief that America would be independent in case she should not lose you. Take away for an instant that modest diffidence of yourself (which, pardon my freedom, my dear General, is sometimes too great, and I wish you could know as well as myself what difference there is between you and every other man), you would see very plainly that, if you were lost for America, there is nobody who could hold the army and the revolution six months. There are open discussions in Congress; parties who hate one another as much as the common enemy; stupid men, who, without knowing a single word about war, undertake to judge you, to make ridiculous comparisons. They are infatuated with Gates, without thinking of the different circumstances, and believe that attacking is the only thing necessary to conquer. These ideas are entertained by some jealous men, and perhaps secret friends to the British government, who want to push you, in a moment of ill-humor, to some rash enterprise upon the lines, and against a much stronger army. I should not take the liberty of mentioning these particulars if I had not received a letter about this matter from a young, good-natured gentleman at York, whom Conway has ruined by his cunning, but who entertains the greatest respect for you.”

La Fayette then recounts the efforts which the enemies of Washington had made to win his allegiance from the commander-in-chief, and closes by reiterating his tender and profound respect.

Washington, in replying to this letter, thanks La Fayette for the “fresh proof of friendship and attachment which it gave him,” and in conclusion writes: “But we must not, in so great a contest, expect to meet nothing but sunshine. I have no doubt that everything happens for the best, that we shall triumph over all our misfortunes, and, in the end, be happy,—when, my dear Marquis, if you will give me your company in Virginia, we will laugh at our past difficulties and the folly of others, and I will endeavor, by every civility in my power, to show you how much, and how sincerely, I am your affectionate and obedient servant.”

A new board of war had been instituted by Congress, designed to have a general control of military affairs. Of this board Gates was made president, and his influence was given in favor of measures contrary to the views of Washington. As La Fayette could neither be persuaded nor bribed to be false to Washington, the conspirators conceived a new plan. An expedition into Canada was proposed, and Congress went so far as to make a resolution regarding said expedition, and give all control of the same into the hands of the Board of War. This was the opportunity wished for by Washington’s enemies. Without consulting Washington, La Fayette was informed that he was appointed to the command of this expedition, and ordered to report at Albany, where the troops were to rendezvous. The instructions given him were of the vaguest kind, and, as after-events proved, intended to mislead him. Washington having advised La Fayette to accept the commission, the marquis departed, taking with him his countryman, the Baron de Kalb, as second in command. As authority for these statements, we would refer to the “Mémoires et Manuscrits” of La Fayette, published by his family in Paris, in 1837, in which La Fayette himself declares these facts, and where the following letter appears. A note is also added by his son, which says: “He wrote to Congress that he could not accept the command only upon the condition that he should remain subordinate to General Washington, and should be considered as an officer despatched by him, to whom he should address his letters, of which those received at the bureau of war should be but duplicates. These demands, and all others which he had made, were granted.” The result of this expedition may be learned by the accompanying letter from La Fayette to Washington.

In previous letters, which we will not quote, the marquis entered into minute details regarding the entire expedition, from the time of his departure until his arrival at Albany, enumerating the many strange and suspicious circumstances which came to his knowledge. He then sums up the situation in the following letter:—

“My dear General: I have an opportunity of writing to your Excellency, which I will not miss by any means, even should I be afraid of becoming tedious and troublesome; but if they have sent me far from you, I don’t know for what purpose, at least I must make some little use of my pen, to prevent all communication from being cut off between your Excellency and myself. I have written lately to you my distressing, ridiculous, foolish, and indeed nameless situation. I am sent with great noise, at the head of an army, for doing great things; the whole continent, France and Europe herself, and what is the worst, the British army, are in great expectations. How far they will be deceived, how far we shall be ridiculed, you may judge by the candid account you have got of the state of affairs.

“There are things, I dare say, in which I am deceived; a certain colonel is not here for nothing; one other gentleman became very popular before I came to this place: Arnold himself is very fond of him. Every side on which I turn to look I am sure a cloud is drawn before my eyes; but there are points I cannot be deceived upon. The want of money, the dissatisfaction among the soldiers, the disinclination of every one (except the Canadians, who thereby would stay at home) for this expedition, are as conspicuous as possible. I am sure I shall become very ridiculous and be laughed at. My expedition will be as famous as the secret expedition against Rhode Island. I confess, my dear General, that I find myself of very sensitive feelings whenever my reputation and glory are concerned in anything. It is very hard indeed that such a part of my happiness, without which I cannot live, should depend upon schemes which I never knew of but when there was no time to put them into execution. I assure you, my most dear and respected friend, that I am more unhappy than I ever was.

“My desire for doing something was such that I have thought of doing it by surprise, with a detachment, but this seems to me rash and quite impossible. I should be very happy if you were here to give me some advice, but I have nobody to consult with. They have sent to me more than twenty French officers, but I do not know what to do with them. I beg you will acquaint me with the line of conduct you advise me to follow on every point. I am at a loss how to act, and indeed I do not know what I am here for myself. However, as being the highest officer (after General Arnold) who has desired me to take the command, I think it is my duty to guard the affairs of this part of America as well as I can. Though General Gates holds the title and power of commander-in-chief of the Northern Department, as two hundred thousand dollars have arrived, I have taken upon myself to pay the most important of the debts we are involved in. I am about sending provisions to Fort Schuyler; and will go and see the fort. I will try to get some clothes for the troops, and buy some articles for the next campaign. I have directed some money to be borrowed upon my credit to satisfy the soldiers, who are much discontented. In all I endeavor to do for the best, though I have no particular authority or instructions. I will come as near as I can to General Gates’ intentions, but I anxiously desire to get an answer to my letters.

“I fancy (between us) that the actual scheme is to have me out of this part of the continent, and General Conway in chief command under the immediate direction of General Gates. How they will bring it about I do not know, but you may be sure something of that kind will appear. You are nearer than myself, and every honest man in Congress is your friend; therefore you can foresee and prevent, if possible, the evil, a hundred times better than I can. I would only give the idea to your Excellency.

“Will you be so good as to present my respects to your lady? With the most tender affection and highest respect I have the honor to be, etc.”

Deeply sympathizing with the trying position of the high-spirited young marquis, Washington used his influence to have him recalled; but in such manner as should honor his fidelity and exonerate his name from any blame. His kind efforts in behalf of La Fayette were successful, and on the second of March the Board of War was directed “to instruct the Marquis de La Fayette to suspend for the present the intended invasion, and at the same time inform him that Congress entertained a high sense of his prudence, activity, and zeal; and that they were fully persuaded nothing has or would have been wanting on his part, or on the part of the officers who accompanied him, to give the expedition the utmost possible effect.”

La Fayette accordingly returned to Valley Forge, and rejoined Washington. How inexpressibly comforting to the harassed heart of Washington must have been the faithfulness of this young knight, who laid his sword and fortune at the feet of his adopted father, before whose character and virtue he bowed with devotion and stanch loyalty.

On the 19th of May, 1778, Sir William Howe, then commanding the British troops occupying Philadelphia, planned to give the fair Tory ladies a delightful surprise. Valley Forge was about twenty miles from Philadelphia, and already Washington had begun several manœuvres in the opening campaign. La Fayette had been detached with a picked company of two thousand men, and ordered to cross the Schuylkill, and take up his post as an advance guard of the army. In accordance with these instructions, the marquis had stationed himself at Barren Hill, about midway between Valley Forge and Philadelphia. This interesting piece of news soon reached Sir William Howe, and he thereupon determined to entrap the marquis, and exhibit him at a banquet which he had ordered to be prepared, and to which he had invited his lady friends, promising that they should upon that occasion behold the captured marquis, whose fame, fortune, youth, and chivalry had long engaged their attention and excited their deepest curiosity, and caused them eagerly to desire a sight of this young nobleman.

But Sir William Howe and his fair Tory friends reckoned without their host. Though the marquis was scarcely twenty-one, he was not so easily outwitted by even such a military tactician as the renowned British commander. He also heard of this fine plan to entrap him, and determined by a hazardous and brilliant manœuvre to elude his foe. There was but one method practicable, but it required great daring and cunning. La Fayette was convinced that he must recross the river. To attempt this seemed destruction; but his inventive wit and quick planning came to his rescue. He would feign an attack, himself lead a portion of his band boldly against the British general, who had been stationed by Howe to guard the ford. This he did, meanwhile ordering the remainder of his men to cross the river under cover of this stratagem. The plan was entirely successful. The British, imagining that La Fayette’s whole division was coming against them, halted and prepared for battle. This delay was La Fayette’s opportunity; perceiving that part of his troops had crossed the river, according to directions, he slowly withdrew his own forces, and ere his enemies were aware, his entire band had arrived on the other side of the river; and when the British reached Barren Hill, La Fayette’s late camp, their intended prey had escaped and were marching towards Valley Forge.

“Finding the bird flown, the English returned to Philadelphia, spent with fatigue and ashamed of having done nothing. The ladies did not see M. de La Fayette, and General Howe himself arrived too late for supper.”

General Washington had watched through a glass the imminent peril which threatened the marquis; and when he clasped him in his arms, his heart was stirred, and his eyes glistened with deep feeling. Loud acclamations saluted the gallant band of soldiers, and their young leader became only second in their hearts to Washington. From that moment the influence of La Fayette was unlimited. His youth made his exploit all the more remarkable, and his courage won their profoundest admiration.

M. Chastellux, in his work entitled “Journey from Newport to Philadelphia,” thus wrote of La Fayette’s influence in the army: “We availed ourselves of the cessation of the rain to accompany his Excellency [General Washington] to the camp of the marquis [General La Fayette]. We found all his troops ranged in line of battle on the heights to the left, and himself at their head, expressing both by his deportment and physiognomy that he preferred seeing me there to receiving me at his estate in Auvergne. The confidence and attachment of his troops are most precious in his eyes; for he looks upon that species of wealth as one of which he cannot be deprived. But what I find still more flattering to a young man of his age, is the influence which he has acquired in political as well as in military circles. I have no fear of being contradicted when I assert that mere letters from him have often had more influence in some of the states of the Union than the strongest invitations on the part of the Congress. On seeing him it is difficult to determine which is the more surprising circumstance, that a young man should have already given so many proofs of talent, or that a man so proved should still leave so much room for hope. Happy will his country be if she knows how to avail herself of his aid; and happier still, should that aid become superfluous to her!”

But just as the welcome words of commendation from his beloved chief fell upon the ear of La Fayette, sad tidings were wafted to him from over the sea. The darling little Henriette, who had not yet learned to lisp her father’s name when he parted with her, but since then had tried with baby prattle to tell her love for her cher papa, had been stricken down; the infant tongue had been silenced, the wondering eyes closed, and the devoted father must wait until he too passed beyond life’s river, to be recognized by his much-loved Henriette.

With sorrowful heart he pens these touching lines to his idolized wife:—

“What a dreadful thing is absence! I never experienced before all the horrors of separation. My own deep sorrow is aggravated by the feeling that I am not able to share and sympathize in your anguish. The length of time that elapsed before I heard of this event also increased my misery. Consider, my love, what a dreadful thing it must be to weep for what I have lost, and tremble for what remains. The distance between Europe and America appears to me more enormous than ever. The loss of our poor child is almost constantly in my thoughts. This sad news followed almost immediately that of the treaty; and while my heart was torn by grief, I was obliged to receive and take part in expressions of public joy.

“If the unfortunate news had reached me sooner, I should have set out immediately to rejoin you; but the account of the treaty, which we received the first of May, prevented me from leaving this country. The opening campaign does not allow me to retire. I have always been perfectly convinced that by serving the cause of humanity and that of America I serve also the interests of France.

“Embrace a million times our little Anastasie; alas! she is all that we have left. I feel that my divided tenderness is now concentrated upon her. Take the best care of her. Adieu!”

CHAPTER III.

Battle of Monmouth—General Lee’s Seeming Treachery—Washington on the Field—La Fayette’s Coolness in the Face of Danger—An Incident of the Battle—Arrival of the French Fleet—La Fayette’s Sagacity in Negotiations—Resolution of Congress commending him—Letter from the President of Congress—La Fayette’s Reply—La Fayette’s Letter to Washington—Washington’s Affectionate Answer—La Fayette solicits Leave of Absence to return to France—Washington’s Letter to Congress—La Fayette’s Letter to the President of Congress—Congress grants the Request—La Fayette’s Illness—Anxiety regarding him displayed by Washington and the Army—His Recovery—A Visitor describes his Appearance—Letter to Washington from on Board the Alliance—Dangers at Sea—La Fayette’s Arrival in France—Virginie La Fayette describes the Joy occasioned by the Return of her Father—La Fayette’s Letter to President Laurens—Sword presented to La Fayette by Congress—La Fayette’s Efforts in France in Behalf of America—La Fayette returns to America—His Note to Washington announcing his Arrival—His Reception in Boston—Congress renders Thanks to the Young Marquis—Discouragements in the Army—Treachery of Benedict Arnold—La Fayette’s Letter regarding the Plot—La Fayette’s Letter to his Wife—Appointed to the Command of the Virginia Troops—Discouraging Difficulties—La Fayette’s Undaunted Perseverance—His Politic Measures—La Fayette describes his Position to Washington—La Fayette’s Refusal to hold Communication with Arnold—Washington’s Commendation—Lord Cornwallis assumes Command of the English Army—His Contempt for the Youthful Marquis—His Opinion concerning the “Boy”—The Despised “Boy’s” Unexpected Stratagem—Brisk Skirmish—La Fayette’s Commendation of General Wayne—The Marquis outwits Cornwallis by Means of a Spy—La Fayette’s Letter to Washington—Arrival of the French Fleet—Cornwallis Entrapped—Loyalty of La Fayette—Arrival of Washington and Rochambeau—Siege of Yorktown—Capitulation of the English—Surrender of Cornwallis—Public Rejoicing—Letter from La Fayette to M. de Maurepas—Also to M. de Vergennes—La Fayette’s Letter to his Wife—His Return to France—Virginie La Fayette describes the Home Picture—Letter to Washington from La Fayette.

“Liberty’s in every blow!

Let us do or die.”—Burns.

ON Sunday, the 28th of June, 1778, the battle of Monmouth was fought. General Lee, who commanded the troops first in action, with seeming treachery ordered a retreat; and though La Fayette endeavored to stem the tide of defeat, a total rout seemed certain, when Washington rode upon the field, and seeing his orders had been disobeyed, he accosted Lee with cutting severity, and gave instant commands to turn about. “Long live Washington!” rang the shout along the ranks, and the white charger, bearing the chieftain, was looked upon as a herald of victory. The irresistible genius of that quiet man turned back the tide of war, and forced the British to retreat, and night alone prevented the Americans from pushing on to a further attack. Everywhere had La Fayette been seen encouraging his men. Where the greatest danger was, there was always his place. With the utmost coolness he gave orders or obeyed the directions of his chief. Colonel Willet, who had volunteered as an aide to General Scott, who commanded the infantry, says that in the hottest of the fight he saw La Fayette ride up, and in a voice cool, steady, and slow, and with as much deliberation as if nothing exciting prevailed, said: “General, the enemy is making an attempt to cut off our right wing—march to its assistance with all your force.” So saying, he galloped off, being exceedingly well mounted, though plainly dressed.

An officer under the immediate command of La Fayette said of him at this battle: “I have been charmed with the blooming gallantry and sagacity of the Marquis de La Fayette, who appears to be possessed of every requisite to constitute a great general.”

In the “Historical Anecdotes of the Reign of Louis XVI.,” an incident of this battle is related as follows:—

“During the American war a general officer in the service of the United States advanced with a score of men, under the English batteries, to reconnoitre their position.

“His aide-de-camp, struck by a ball, fell at his side, while the officers and orderly dragoons fled precipitately. The general, though under the fire of the cannon, approached the wounded man to see whether he had any signs of life remaining, or whether any assistance could be afforded him. Finding the wound had been mortal, he turned his eyes away with emotion, and slowly rejoined the group which had gotten out of the reach of the pieces. This instance of courage and humanity took place at the battle of Monmouth. General Clinton, who commanded the English troops, knew that the Marquis de La Fayette usually rode a white horse; and it was upon a white horse that the general officer who retired so slowly was mounted. Sir Henry Clinton, therefore, commanded the gunners not to fire. This noble forbearance probably saved General La Fayette’s life. At that time he was but twenty-two years of age.”

During the summer of 1778 an expedition against Newport, then held by the British, was planned. A French fleet under Count d’Estaing had arrived. The plan was to move against Newport by land and sea. When all was arranged, the Count d’Estaing for some reason changed his purpose, and the expedition was necessarily abandoned. In the negotiations La Fayette displayed much zeal, and hearing that the American army was flying before the enemy, he immediately started for the scene, and by his intrepid courage turned the tide of pursuit, and brought back the troops without the loss of a man. This brave conduct of La Fayette met with universal commendation, and in his honor Congress passed the following resolution:—

“Resolved, That Mr. President be requested to inform the Marquis de La Fayette that Congress have a due sense of the sacrifice he made of his personal feelings in undertaking a journey to Boston, with a view of promoting the interests of these states, at a time when an occasion was daily expected of his acquiring glory in the field, and that his gallantry in going on to Rhode Island, when the greatest part of the army had retreated, and his good conduct in bringing off the pickets and out-sentinels, deserve their particular approbation.”

Mr. Laurens, who was then President of Congress, accompanied this resolution with the following letter:—

“Philadelphia, Sept. 13, 1778.

“Sir: I experience a high degree of satisfaction in fulfilling the instructions embraced in the enclosed act of Congress of the ninth instant, which expresses the sentiments of the representatives of the United States of America, relative to your excellent conduct during the expedition recently undertaken against Rhode Island. Receive, Sir, this testimonial on the part of Congress as a tribute of the respect and gratitude offered to you by a free people.

“I have the honor to be with very great respect and esteem, Sir, your obedient and most humble servant,

“Henry Laurens, President.”

To these communications La Fayette replied:—

“Camp, Sept. 23, 1778.

“Sir: I have just received the letter of the 13th instant with which you have favored me, and in which you communicate the honor which Congress has been pleased to confer by the adoption of its flattering resolution. Whatever sentiments of pride may be reasonably excited by such marks of approbation, I am not the less sensible of the feelings of gratitude, nor of the satisfaction of believing that my efforts have, in some measure, been considered as useful to a cause in which my heart is so deeply interested. Have the goodness, Sir, to present to Congress my unfeigned and humble thanks, springing from the bottom of my heart, and accompanied with the assurances of my sincere and perfect attachment, as the only homage worthy of being offered to the representatives of a free people.

“From the moment that I first heard the name of America, I loved her; from the moment that I learned her struggles for liberty, I was inflamed with the desire of shedding my blood in her cause; and the moments that may be expended in her service, whenever they may occur, or in whatever part of the world I may be, shall be considered as the happiest of my existence. I feel more ardently than ever the desire of deserving the obliging sentiments with which I am honored by the United States and by their representatives, and the flattering confidence which they have been pleased to repose in me has filled my heart with the liveliest gratitude and most lasting affection.”

La Fayette’s youthful enthusiasm and his love of his country were both so intense that his first impulse was to resent any national slight as a personal affront.

La Fayette wanted to send a challenge, in 1778, to Lord Carlisle, an English commissioner, who, in a letter to the American Congress, had in his opinion used a phrase insulting to France. Washington at once wrote to him disapproving the challenge.

“The generous spirit of chivalry,” he said, “when banished from the rest of the world has taken refuge, my dear friend, in the highly wrought feelings of your nation. But you cannot do anything if the other party will not second you; and though these feelings may have been suitable to the times to which they belonged, it is to be feared that in our day your adversary, taking shelter behind modern opinions and his public character, may even slightly ridicule so old-fashioned a virtue. Besides, even supposing his lordship should accept your challenge, experience has proved that chance, far more than bravery or justice, decides in such affairs. I therefore should be very unwilling to risk, on this occasion, a life which ought to be reserved for greater things. I trust that his Excellency, Admiral the Count d’Estaing, will agree with me in this opinion, and that so soon as he can part with you, he will send you to headquarters, where I shall be truly glad to welcome you.”

The English commissioner, as Washington had anticipated, declined the challenge upon public grounds, adding: “In my opinion such national disputes may be best settled by the fleets under Admiral Byron and the Count d’Estaing.”

About this time La Fayette wrote from his camp to Washington, as follows:—

“Give me joy, my dear General: I intend to have your picture. Mr. Hancock has promised me a copy of the one he has in Boston. He gave one to Count d’Estaing, and I never saw a man so glad at possessing his sweetheart’s picture as the admiral was to receive yours.”

To these fond words Washington thus replied:—

“The sentiments of affection and attachment which breathe so conspicuously in all your letters to me are at once pleasing and honorable, and afford me abundant cause to rejoice at the happiness of my acquaintance with you. Your love of liberty, the just sense you entertain of this valuable blessing, and your noble and disinterested exertions in the cause of it, added to the innate goodness of your heart, conspire to render you dear to me; and I think myself happy in being linked with you in bonds of the strictest friendship.

“The ardent zeal which you have displayed during the whole course of the campaign to the eastward, and your endeavors to cherish harmony among the officers of the allied powers, and to dispel those unfavorable impressions which had begun to take place in the minds of the unthinking, from misfortunes which the utmost stretch of human foresight could not avert, deserved, and now receive, my particular and warmest thanks.

“Could I have conceived that my picture had been an object of your wishes, or in the smallest degree worthy of your attention, I should, while Mr. Peale was in camp at Valley Forge, have got him to take the best portrait of me he could, and presented it to you; but I really had not so good an opinion of my own worth as to suppose that such a compliment would not have been considered as a greater instance of my vanity, than means of your gratification; and therefore, when you requested me to sit to Monsieur Lanfang, I thought it was only to obtain the outlines and a few shades of my features, to have some prints struck from.”

Reports now reached La Fayette that the French ministry were planning an attack upon England; whereupon he wrote to the Duke d’Ayen:—

“I should consider myself as almost dishonored if I were not present at such a moment. I should feel so much regret and shame, that I should be tempted to drown or hang myself, according to the English mode. My greatest happiness would be to drive them from this country, and then to repair to England, serving under your command.”

Feeling that his presence was now required in France, and that he could there best serve America, La Fayette solicited from Congress a leave of absence, that he might return to his own country. General Washington sent the following letter to the President of Congress by La Fayette:—

“Headquarters, Oct. 6, 1778.

“Sir: This letter will be presented to you by Major-General La Fayette. The generous motives which formerly induced him to cross the ocean, and serve in the armies of the United States are known to Congress. The same praiseworthy reasons now urge him to return to his native country, which under the existing circumstances has a claim to his services.

“However anxious he was to fulfil the duty which he owes to his king and country, that powerful consideration could not induce him to leave this continent while the fate of the campaign remains undecided. He is, therefore, determined to remain until the termination of the present campaign, and takes advantage of the present cessation from hostilities to communicate his designs to Congress, so that the necessary arrangements may be made at a convenient season, while he is at hand, if occasion should offer, to distinguish himself in the army.

“At the same time, the marquis, being desirous of preserving his connection with this country, and hoping that he may enjoy opportunities of being useful to it as an American officer, only solicits leave of absence, for the purpose of embracing the views which have been already suggested. The pain which it costs me to separate from an officer who possesses all the military fire of youth, with a rare maturity of judgment, would lead me, if the choice depended on my wishes, to place his absence on the footing which he proposes. I shall always esteem it a pleasure to be able to give those testimonials of his service to which they are entitled, from the bravery and conduct which have distinguished him on every occasion; and I do not doubt that Congress will, in a proper manner, express how sensibly they appreciate his merits and how much they regret his departure. I have the honor to be, etc.,

“George Washington.”

La Fayette proceeded to Philadelphia, bearing this letter from Washington. Having arrived there, he at once addressed the following letter to the President of Congress:—

“Philadelphia, Oct. 13, 1778.

“Sir: However attentive I ought to be not to employ the precious moments of Congress in the consideration of private affairs, I beg leave, with that confidence which naturally springs from affection and gratitude, to unfold to them the circumstances in which I am at present situated. It is impossible to speak more appropriately of the sentiments which attach me to my own country than in the presence of citizens who have done so much for their own. So long as I have had the power of regulating my own actions, it has been my pride and pleasure to fight beneath the banners of America in the defence of a cause which I may dare more particularly to call ours, as I have shed my blood in its support.

“Now, Sir, that France is engaged in war, I am urged, both by duty and patriotism, to present myself before my sovereign, to know in what manner he may be pleased to employ my services. The most pleasing service that I can render will be that which enables me to serve the common cause among those whose friendships I have had the happiness to obtain, and in whose fortunes I participated when your prospects were less bright than they now are. This motive, together with others which Congress will appreciate, induce me to request permission to return to my own country in the ensuing winter. So long as a hope remained of an active campaign, I never indulged the idea of leaving the army, but the present state of peace and inaction leads me to prefer to Congress this petition. If it should be pleased to grant my request, the arrangements for my departure shall be taken in such a manner that the result of the campaign shall be known before they are put into execution. I enclose a letter from his Excellency, General Washington, consenting to the leave of absence which I wish to obtain. I flatter myself that you will consider me as a soldier on leave of absence, ardently wishing to rejoin his colors as well as his beloved comrades. If, when I return to the midst of my fellow-citizens, it is believed that I can, in any manner, promote the prosperity of America, if my most strenuous exertions can promise any useful results, I trust, Sir, that I shall always be considered as the man who has the prosperity of the United States most at heart, and who entertains for their representatives the most perfect love and esteem. I have the honor to be, etc.,

“La Fayette.”

Congress readily granted this request, and after directing that a letter should be written to La Fayette thanking him for his disinterested zeal and the services which he had rendered to the United States, Congress passed the resolution that: “The Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States of America at the court of Versailles be directed to cause an elegant sword, with proper devices, to be made and presented in the name of the United States to the Marquis de La Fayette.”

While La Fayette was making his preparations to return to France, he was stricken down by a violent fever which for a time threatened to be fatal. The entire army displayed the most intense interest regarding his state, and great was the joy when the physicians at length announced that the marquis would recover. General Washington visited him daily at Fishkill, where he was taken sick, and paid him every kind and tender attention in his power. During La Fayette’s convalescence a gentleman visited him, who thus describes his appearance at that time:—

“By the request of Colonel Gibson I waited on the Marquis de La Fayette. The Colonel furnished me with a letter of introduction, and his compliments, with inquiries respecting the Marquis’ health. I was received by this nobleman in a polite and affable manner. He is just recovering from a fever, and is in his chair of convalescence. He is nearly six feet high, large, but not corpulent, being not more than twenty-two years of age. He is not very elegant in his form, his shoulders being broad and high, nor is there a perfect symmetry in his features; his forehead is remarkably high, his nose large and long, eyebrows prominent and projecting over a fine animated hazel eye. His countenance is interesting and impressive. He converses in broken English, and displays the manners and address of an accomplished gentleman.”

A vessel called the Alliance had been furnished La Fayette for his voyage to France. On January 11, 1779, he penned these farewell lines to Washington, written on board the Alliance:—

“Farewell, my dear General. I hope your French friend will ever be dear to you. I hope I shall soon see you again, and tell you myself with what emotion I now leave the coast you inhabit, and with what affection and respect I am forever, my dear General, your respectful and sincere friend,

La Fayette.”

But notwithstanding the face of the young marquis was thus set homeward, it was not all smooth sailing. Terrible storms tossed the little vessel to and fro, and for a time it seemed as though the huge waves would engulf the frigate. The main top-mast was blown away, the vessel rolled upon the heavy swells, apparently at the mercy of the tempest, while the dashing billows broke over the dismantled craft, which was soon half filled with water, and seemed doomed to destruction.

But the darkness of the stormy night was followed by the radiance of a calm and lovely morning. The golden sunshine flooded the surface of the ocean, and the Alliance sailed safely on her homeward way. But storms were not the only dangers which beset the path of La Fayette. A mutinous plot was formed among the sailors, and only the promptness and energy of the marquis, in ordering the arrest of thirty-one of the mutineers, and placing them in irons, so awed the others that tranquillity was secured.

With what inexpressible eagerness La Fayette must have turned to watch the first glimpse of his beloved land—that land where dwelt his idolized wife and little babe whose eyes had never yet rested on its father’s face.

His fame had gone before him, and his name was known and spoken with pride and honor in every city and hamlet of his native country. La Fayette landed at Brest in February.

His daughter thus describes her mother’s ecstasy at this longed-for meeting:—

“The intensity of my mother’s joy was beyond all expression.

“This happiness was soon disturbed by fresh alarms which prevented her enjoying in peace my father’s return. A projected invasion of England detained him a long time on the coast. During his stay in France he was continually employed in preparing fresh enterprises. My mother’s health was shaken at once by past anxieties and by the dread of future dangers. On the 24th of December, 1779, my brother was born.”

This brother of Virginie La Fayette was named George Washington La Fayette, in honor of his father’s revered friend. The expedition against England was, however, abandoned; and La Fayette turned his attention to forwarding the interests of America, by soliciting for her army assistance in men, money, and clothing. So earnest was his zeal that he offered to pledge his entire fortune in the cause of the Republic. He wrote as follows to President Laurens:—

“The affairs of America I shall ever look upon as my first business while I am in Europe. Any confidence from the king and ministers, any popularity I may have among my own countrymen, any means in my power, shall be, to the best of my skill, and to the end of my life, exerted in behalf of an interest I have so much at heart. If Congress believe that my influence may serve them in any way, I beg they will direct such orders to me, that I may the more certainly and properly employ the knowledge which I have of this court and country for obtaining a success in which my heart is so much interested.

“The flattering affection with which Congress and the American nation are pleased to honor me, makes me very desirous of letting them know—if I dare speak so frankly—how I enjoyed my private position. Happy in the sight of my friends and family, after I was by your attentive kindness safely brought again to my native shore, I met with such an honorable reception, and such kind sentiments as far exceeded any wishes I could have conceived. I am indebted for that inexpressible satisfaction which the good will of my countrymen towards me affords to my heart, to their ardent love for America, to the cause of freedom and its defenders, their new allies, and to the idea which they entertain, that I have had the happiness to serve the United States. To these motives, Sir, and to the letter Congress was pleased to write on my account, I owe the many favors the king has conferred upon me. Without delay I was appointed to the command of his own regiment of dragoons, and everything he could have done, everything I could have wished, I have received on account of your kind recommendations.”

The sword which Congress had voted should be presented to him was finished in August. It was of very elegant workmanship. Among other elaborate designs with which it was ornamented were representations of the battle of Gloucester, the retreat of Barren Hill, the battle of Monmouth, and the retreat of Rhode Island. The sword was presented to the Marquis de La Fayette by a grandson of Dr. Franklin, accompanied by a letter written by Benjamin Franklin, in which he said, “By the help of the exquisite artists France affords, I find it easy to express everything but the sense we have of your worth and our obligations to you.”

So enthusiastic were La Fayette’s efforts in behalf of America, and such was his perseverance, that the prime minister of France exclaimed in astonishment, “He would unfurnish the palace of Versailles to clothe the American army!” to which La Fayette, eagerly responded, “I would!”

At length La Fayette received the welcome tidings that the king and ministry had at last acceded to his repeated requests; and he was instructed “to proceed immediately to join General Washington, and to communicate to him the secret that the king, willing to give the United States a new proof of his affection and of his interest in their security, is resolved to send to their aid, at the opening of the spring, six vessels of the line and six thousand regular troops of infantry.”

On the 19th of March, 1780, La Fayette sailed from France to bear to America this joyful news; and at the entrance of Boston harbor he wrote these words of greeting to Washington, and despatched them by a messenger to announce his arrival:—

“Here I am, my dear General, and in the midst of the joy I feel in finding myself again one of your loving soldiers, I take but the time to tell you that I came from France on board a frigate which the king gave me for my passage. I have affairs of the utmost importance, which I should at first communicate to you alone. In case my letter finds you anywhere this side of Philadelphia, I beg you will wait for me, and do assure you a great public good may be derived from it. To-morrow we go up to the town, and the day after I shall set off in my usual way to join my beloved and respected friend and general.”

When La Fayette landed in Boston he was received with marked attention. The day was given up to public rejoicing; bells were rung, cannon boomed, and the shouts of the cheering multitude, mingled with the strains of martial music, as America paid homage to her adopted son. But these public honors, gratifying as they were, could not detain the faithful young hero, whose first desire was to clasp to his heart the form of his adopted father and to look into the face of his beloved general. Perhaps nowhere else in history is another instance of such peculiar love and lasting friendship as was displayed by La Fayette and Washington. The young knight bowed at the feet of his chief, regarding him as something almost more than mortal in the perfection of his character and the attraction of his nature; while the general, upon whose shoulders rested the responsibility of a nation, felt his heart lightened and his soul comforted by the sympathy and appreciation of this self-sacrificing young marquis.

Congress was not tardy now in rendering appropriate thanks to the young marquis, and passed a resolution in his honor. But Congress was not so ready to come to the help of the suffering American army. Washington again made an appeal in their behalf. “For the troops to be without clothing at any time,” he wrote, “is highly injurious to the service and distressing to our feelings; but the want will be more peculiarly mortifying when they come to act with those of our allies.”

La Fayette, as usual, started a relief fund from his private purse, offering the ladies of Philadelphia, who were making donations in aid of the suffering troops, one hundred guineas in the name of Madame La Fayette.

Amid innumerable discouragements Washington prepared for the coming campaign. It was not until July that the long-expected French fleet arrived, and then only part of the promised assistance. Five thousand five hundred men were sent, leaving two thousand, with all the arms, munitions of war, and clothing promised to La Fayette, to follow later. The intention of the American army had been to unite with the French allies in an attack upon New York. But the second part of the French fleet was blockaded in the port of Brest by a British squadron, thus disconcerting all the plans of the allies. The immediate attack upon New York was accordingly abandoned.

It was in September of this year, 1780, that the treachery of Benedict Arnold was consummated. Washington had, at the earnest solicitation of La Fayette, left the camp to meet with Count de Rochambeau, the leader of the French forces, and the Chevalier de Ternay, the admiral of the French fleet. This important interview had been arranged to take place at Hartford, Conn. It was during the absence of Washington that the traitor Arnold carried into execution his infamous plot. La Fayette thus describes his discovery of the nefarious deed, in a letter to the Chevalier de la Luzerne:—

“When I parted from you yesterday, Sir, to come and breakfast here with General Arnold, we were far from foreseeing the event which I am now going to relate to you. You will shudder at the danger to which we were exposed; you will admire the miraculous chain of unexpected events and singular chances which have saved us; but you will be still more astonished when you learn by what instrument this conspiracy has been formed. West Point was sold,—and sold by Arnold,—the same man who formerly acquired glory by rendering such immense services to his country. He had lately entered in a horrible compact with the enemy and but for the accident which brought us here at a certain hour, but for the combination of chances that threw the adjutant-general of the British army into the hands of some peasants, beyond the limits of our stations, at West Point and on the North River, they would both at present, in all probability, be in the possession of the enemy.

ROCHAMBEAU

“When we set out yesterday for Fishkill, we were preceded by one of my aides-de-camp and one of General Washington’s [Colonels Hamilton and McHenry], who found General Arnold and his wife at breakfast, and sat down at the table with them. While they were together, two letters were given to Arnold, which apprised him of the arrest of the spy. He ordered a horse to be saddled, went into his wife’s room to tell her he was ruined, and desired his aide-de-camp to inform General Washington that he was going to West Point, and would return in the course of an hour.

“On our arrival here we crossed the river and went to examine the works. You may conceive our astonishment when we learned, on our return, that the arrested spy was Major André, adjutant-general of the English army; and when among his papers were discovered the copy of an important council of war, the state of the garrison and works, and observations upon various means of attack and defence, the whole in Arnold’s own handwriting.

“The adjutant-general wrote also to the general avowing his name and situation. Orders were sent to arrest Arnold; but he escaped in a boat, got on board the English frigate, the Vulture, and as no person suspected his flight, he was not stopped at any post. Colonel Hamilton, who had gone in pursuit of him, received soon after, by a flag of truce, a letter from Arnold to the general, in which he entered into details to justify his treachery, and a letter from the English commander, Robertson, who, in a very insolent manner, demanded that the adjutant-general should be delivered up to them, as he had only acted with the permission of General Arnold.”

La Fayette was one of the fourteen generals who tried Major André, and who were forced to the painful decision that the interests of America demanded that he should suffer the extreme penalty of the law, as a spy, which was death by hanging. Washington would have been glad to exchange André for the traitor Arnold, that to him might be meted out his just deserts; but Sir Henry Clinton would not give up Arnold, though he made efforts to save André. Arnold’s villany was afterwards rewarded by the commission of brigadier-general in the British army, and he was placed at the head of some English troops then ravaging the southern part of Virginia. His malignant spirit gloated in acts of atrocious cruelty, and he allowed his men to pillage and destroy, sparing neither old nor young, neither women nor children.

La Fayette now entered upon a series of marches, manœuvres, skirmishes, and strategic expeditions, which ended at last in the capture of Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown: this was largely due to La Fayette’s successive masterly stratagems and skilful plans. It has been said of La Fayette, that his name was never tarnished by a single military blunder. Others have displayed equal courage in the face of dangers, and calmness on the field of battle, but his military genius consisted in a tact and skill in extricating an army from apparently insurmountable perils that would have baffled veteran generals well versed in the stratagems of war.

But the untiring soldier was none the less a tender father and devoted husband; in the midst of preparations for the coming campaign he snatches a moment to write thus fondly to his “dearest heart”:—

“The Americans continue to testify for me the greatest kindness. There is no proof of affection which I do not receive each day from the army and nation. I experience for the American officers and soldiers that friendship which arises from having shared with them for a length of time dangers, sufferings, and both good and evil fortune. We began by struggling together, for our affairs have often been at the lowest possible ebb. It is gratifying to me to crown this work with them by giving the European troops a high idea of the soldiers who have been allied with us. To all these motives of interest for the cause and the army are joined my sentiments of regard for General Washington.

“Embrace our children a thousand and a thousand times for me. Their father, although a wanderer, is not less tender, nor less constantly occupied with them, and not less happy at receiving news from them. My heart dwells with peculiar delight on the moment when those dear children will be presented to me by you, and when we can embrace and caress them together.”

Having sent this loving message across the sea, the young knight-errant entered upon another campaign in defence of liberty. Sir Henry Clinton had sent out two thousand men under General Phillips to re-enforce Arnold in Virginia. Learning this, Washington despatched La Fayette to Virginia, to take command of the troops there collecting, and to prevent, if possible, any junction of Phillips with Cornwallis. The marquis was only too eager for active duty, and took up his line of march with the troops previously under his charge, for Baltimore. But these northern soldiers soon began to express their dissatisfaction with such an expedition. They were without tents, shoes, hats, and, as the marquis said, “in a state of shocking nakedness”; and they refused to continue this unlooked-for march. To render his condition still more distressing, La Fayette was informed by the Board of War that they were utterly unable to render his troops any aid.

La Fayette’s nature seemed rather to be nerved by obstacles to greater strength and superior judgment than weakened and discouraged. A perplexing dilemma was often his greatest opportunity. Washington could not aid him, the Board of War announced themselves powerless; and La Fayette was left to face his overwhelming perplexities alone.

He boldly issued an order to his troops, in which he sympathized with their hardships, and frankly told them that he was about to enter upon an enterprise, of great difficulty and danger, and expressed his confidence that his soldiers would join him in the hazardous expedition. But if any should be unwilling to accompany him, he assured them that a free permit would be given them to join their corps in the North, and that by applying to him, they could be saved from the crime and disgrace of desertion. Not a man after that left the heroic band, and a lame sergeant hired a place in a cart that he might keep up with the army.

Arriving at Baltimore, La Fayette borrowed upon his personal credit ten thousand dollars, which he immediately appropriated to supplying the needs of his soldiers. He wrote to General Greene thus:—

“As our brave and excellent men are shockingly destitute of linen, I have borrowed, from the merchants of Baltimore a sum on my credit which will amount to to about two thousand pounds, and will procure hats, shoes, blankets, and a pair of linen overalls to each man. I hope to set the Baltimore ladies at work upon the shirts, which will be sent after me, and the overalls will be made by our tailors. I will use my influence to have the money added to the loan which the French court have made to the United States, and in case I cannot succeed, bind myself to the merchants for payment, with interest, in two years.”

Most willingly did the ladies of Baltimore give their aid in preparing garments for the troops, and La Fayette proceeded with his division towards Virginia. Phillips and Arnold had separated their forces for a time, that they might better carry on their work of pillaging; but in April they reunited their divisions, and planned an attack upon Richmond.

But the vigilant marquis was before them; marching with great celerity, he entered and took possession of the city, and was there joined by Baron Steuben, with his corps of regular troops, and by General Nelson, with a band of Virginia militia. The chagrin of the British was intense when they discovered that they had been outwitted by La Fayette and that he had gained this important post.

La Fayette thus describes to Washington his position at this time:—

“When General Phillips retreated from Richmond, his project was to stop at Williamsburg, there to collect contributions which he had imposed. This induced me to take a position between Pamunkey and Chickahominy rivers, which equally covered Richmond and some other interesting parts of the state, and from where I detached General Nelson with some militia towards Williamsburg. Having got as low down as that place, General Phillips seemed to discover an intention to make a landing, but upon advices received by a vessel from Portsmouth, the enemy weighed anchor, and, with all the sail they could crowd, hastened up the river.

“This intelligence made me apprehensive that the enemy intended to manœuvre me out of Richmond, where I returned immediately, and again collected our small force. Intelligence was the same day received that Lord Cornwallis—who, I had been assured, had embarked at Wilmington—was marching through North Carolina. This was confirmed by the landing of General Phillips at Brandon, south side of James River.

“Apprehending that both armies would meet at a central point, I marched towards Petersburg, and intended to have established a communication over Appomattox and James rivers; but on the 9th General Phillips took possession of Petersburg, a place where, his right flank being covered by James River, his front by Appomattox, on which the brigades had been destroyed in the first part of the invasion, and his left not being open to assault except by a long circuit through fords that at this season are very uncertain, I could not—even with an equal force—have got any chance of fighting him unless I had given up this side of James River and the country from which re-enforcements are expected. It being the enemy’s choice to force us to an action, while their own position insured them against our enterprises, I thought it proper to shift this situation, and marched the greater part of our troops to this place [Welton], about ten miles below Richmond. Letters from General Nash, General Jones, and General Sumner are positive as to the arrival of Colonel Tarleton, and announce that of Lord Cornwallis at Halifax.

“Having received a request from North Carolina for ammunition, I made a detachment of five hundred men, under General Muhlenburg, to escort twenty thousand cartridges over Appomattox, and, to divert the enemy’s attention, Colonel Gimat, with his battalion and four field-pieces, commanded their position from this side of the river. I hope our ammunition will arrive safely, as before General Muhlenburg returned he put it in a safe road with proper directions. On the 13th General Phillips died, and the command devolved upon General Arnold. General Wayne’s detachment has not yet been heard from. Before he arrives it becomes very dangerous to risk an engagement where—as the British armies are vastly superior to us—we shall certainly be beaten, and by the loss of arms, the dispersion of militia, and the difficulty of a junction with General Wayne, we may lose a less dangerous chance of resistance.”

La Fayette, meanwhile, endeavored to strengthen his forces, and so disciplined his troops that they became prepared to act with the greatest efficiency and celerity at a moment’s notice. It was at this time that La Fayette received a letter from Arnold, in continuance of a correspondence which the marquis had opened with Phillips previous to his death, regarding an exchange of prisoners. When the letter from the infamous traitor was brought to him by a messenger, La Fayette refused to touch the document, while he assured the bearer that he would hold no communication whatever with its author, adding, “In case any other English officer should honor him with a letter, he would always be happy to give the officers every testimony of esteem.”

General Washington warmly commended this action, and wrote to La Fayette: “Your conduct upon every occasion meets my approbation, but in none more than in your refusing to hold correspondence with Arnold.”

Lord Cornwallis now assumed chief command of the English army. On the 24th of May Cornwallis crossed the James River, at the head of all his troops, and made his first direct advance upon La Fayette. The marquis had retreated to Richmond, and thus writes to Washington: “Were I anyways equal to the enemy, I should be extremely happy; but I am not strong enough even to get beaten. The government in this state has no energy, and the laws have no force; but I hope the present Assembly will put matters on a better footing. I had a great deal of trouble to put things in a tolerable train; our expenses were enormous, and yet we can get nothing. Arrangements for the present would seem to put on a better face but for this superiority of the enemy, who will chase us wherever they please. They can overrun the country, and, until the Pennsylvanians arrive, we are next to nothing in point of opposition to so large a force. This country begins to be as familiar to me as Tappan and Bergen. Our soldiers are hitherto very healthy. I have turned doctor, and regulate their diet.”

The English looked with exultation and disdain upon their apparently weak foe, and Lord Cornwallis wrote with confidence, “The boy cannot escape me!” But the despised “boy” was of a more heroic and irresistible nature than the proud general imagined, and would yet give him a most perplexing chase, and at length catch his boastful foe in so cunning a trap that all the English hosts could not deliver him; and this same “boy” should stand by and witness his surrender.

For some time a sort of military game of “hide-and-seek” was kept up by Lord Cornwallis and La Fayette. It was Cornwallis’ plan to entrap him; it was La Fayette’s plan to elude him. The marquis moved his division with such unexpected celerity, that when the English general thought that he had him securely hedged in at any particular point, he would straightway find, to his chagrin, that his antagonist was miles away, sometimes before him, sometimes behind him, now on this side, then on that, and on one occasion, in order to guard some valuable stores at Albemarle Old Court House, La Fayette passed his foe in the night; and while Cornwallis supposed that he had so disposed of his force that the enemy must be entrapped, and smiled to himself at the easy manner in which the prey would fall into his hands in the morning, as all the roads to Albemarle Court House had been carefully guarded, the marquis played his own little strategic game, and when the day dawned, the proud English lord, with deep mortification, received tidings that his adversary was already before him, on the direct road to Albemarle, and his English lordship had been baffled in securing either the coveted stores or the more coveted American army.

On the 6th of July occurred a brisk skirmish between the opposing forces. The British army were crossing the James River, on the march from Williamsburg to Portsmouth. La Fayette, thinking that the larger part of the troops had already crossed, ordered an attack to be made upon what he supposed to be the rear-guard. This time he had indeed fallen into one of Lord Cornwallis’ traps. In order to deceive the Americans, only a small detachment had been sent forward, and when it was attacked by the force under General Wayne, known as “Mad Antony,” the little band of Americans found themselves facing the entire English force. La Fayette, who was stationed at a short distance with the main army, rightly conjectured, from the very heavy firing, that more than a rear-guard were engaged, and sent assistance to Wayne, with orders to fall back. So swift had been the attack and so sudden the retreat, that Cornwallis suspected a snare, and did not follow up his triumph.

General Wayne thus described the attack: “This was a severe conflict. Our field officers were generally dismounted by having their horses killed or wounded under them. I will not condole with the marquis for the loss of two of his as he was frequently requested to keep at a greater distance. His natural bravery rendered him deaf to admonition.”

General Wayne’s conduct was thus praised by La Fayette: “It is enough for the glory of General Wayne and the officers and men he commanded to have attacked the whole British army with a reconnoitring party only, close to their encampment, and by this severe skirmish hastened their retreat over the river.”

Active warfare was now for a time suspended. Cornwallis was intrenched at Portsmouth, and La Fayette occupied himself in watching his enemy with untiring vigilance. The marquis succeeded in having his own servant hired by Cornwallis as a spy, and by this means, as the man was always true to his first master, La Fayette was enabled to keep well posted concerning all the movements in the opposing encampment.

To General Washington La Fayette thus writes:—

“I am an entire stranger to everything that passes out of Virginia, and Virginia operations being for the present in a state of languor, I have more time to think of my solitude. In a word, my dear General, I am homesick, and if I cannot go to headquarters, wish, at least, to hear from thence. I am anxious to know your opinion concerning the Virginia campaign. That the subjugation of this state was the great object of the ministry is an indisputable fact. I think your diversion has been of more use to the state than my manœuvres, but the latter have been much directed by political views. So long as my lord wished for an action, not one gun has been fired; but the moment he declined it, we began skirmishing, though I took care never to commit the army. His naval superiority, his superiority of horse, of regulars, his thousand advantages over us, are such that I am lucky to have come off safe. I had an eye upon European negotiations, and made it a point to give his lordship the disgrace of a retreat.

“From every account, it appears that a part of the army will embark. The light infantry, the guards, the 80th Regiment, and Queen’s Rangers are, it is said, destined for New York. Lord Cornwallis, I am told, is much disappointed in his hopes of command. Should he go to England, we are, I think, to rejoice for it. He is a cold and active man,—two dangerous qualities in this southern war.

“The clothing you long ago sent to the light infantry has not yet arrived. I have been obliged to send for it, and expect it in a few days. These three battalions are the best troops that ever took the field. My confidence in them is unbounded. They are far superior to any British troops, and none will ever venture to meet them in equal numbers. What a pity these men are not employed along with the French grenadiers; they would do eternal honor to our arms! But their presence here, I must confess, has saved this state, and, indeed, the southern part of the continent.”

Hearing that the expected French fleet was to arrive in Chesapeake Bay, instead of New York harbor, the contemplated attack upon New York was abandoned by Washington, and Virginia was chosen as the scene of action. Washington accordingly prepared for a southern movement with great prudence and secrecy. Count de Rochambeau was in favor of the expedition, and readily assented to join Washington’s forces with the French under his command. For a time Washington did not dare to make known his plans to La Fayette, lest his despatches should fall into the hands of the enemy; but he requested La Fayette to remain in Virginia, adding, “You will not regret this, especially when I tell you that, from the change of circumstances with which the removal of part of the enemy’s forces from Virginia to New York will be attended, it is more than probable we shall also entirely change our plan of operations.”

This hint was sufficient for the keen-witted marquis, who answered: “I am of the opinion, with you, that I had better remain in Virginia. I have pretty well understood you, my dear General, but should be happy to have more minute details, which, I am aware, cannot be intrusted to letters.”

La Fayette also wrote to his wife: “It was not prudent in the general to confide to me such a command. If I had been unfortunate, the public would have called that partiality an error of judgment.”

But Washington well knew the character and capacity of the young marquis, and trusted him probably more than his older and more experienced generals. La Fayette had already proved that his courage would never lead him to make rash ventures, but when hazardous enterprises were necessary, no danger could unnerve him, and no unexpected dilemma could confuse him.

On the 30th of August the French fleet under Count de Grasse arrived. The Marquis de Saint-Simon landed with three thousand men, and La Fayette joined his force to them and took up a strong position at Williamsburg. Washington having completely outwitted General Clinton, by feigning an intended attack on New York, had started on the 19th of August, with the entire American army, and, crossing the Hudson, they began their march to Virginia.

In announcing their departure to La Fayette, Washington wrote to the marquis, enjoining upon him the closest watchfulness, lest the enemy should escape his vigilance, adding: “As it will be of great importance towards the success of our present enterprise that the enemy, on the arrival of the fleet, should not have it in their power to effect retreat, I cannot omit to repeat to you my most earnest wish that the land and naval forces which you will have with you may so combine their operations that the British army may not be able to escape. The particular mode of doing this I shall not, at this distance, attempt to dictate. Your own knowledge of the country, from your long continuance in it, and the various and extensive movements which you have made, have given you great opportunities for observation, of which I am persuaded your military genius and judgment will lead you to make the best improvement. You will, my dear Marquis, keep me constantly advised of every important event respecting the enemy or yourself.”

Cornwallis, who had taken his position at York and Gloucester, where he had been actively engaged in erecting heavy fortifications, now suddenly found himself completely surrounded by his foes, being blockaded by sea and land, with hardly a possibility of escape. He sent an urgent request to Sir Henry Clinton for succor, and finding, after having carefully reconnoitred La Fayette’s position at Williamsburg, that any attempt to pass it and retreat to the South would be useless, he awaited with impatience his expected re-enforcements.

La Layette’s loyalty to Washington and his faithful obedience was at this time severely tried. As the Count de Grasse had permission to serve on the American coast only until the middle of October, and as he and the Marquis St. Simon were anxious to distinguish themselves, they urged La Fayette to make an immediate attack upon the enemy, without awaiting the arrival of Washington and the Count de Rochambeau. “It is right,” they argued, “that you who have had all the difficulties of this campaign should now be rewarded with the glory of its successful termination.” They represented that the incomplete state of the fortifications of Cornwallis made his defeat sure, as he could not resist a sudden attack. These were powerful reasons to the young and impulsive marquis; but his loyalty and better judgment prevailed, and he resisted all appeals to commence the attack, and waited in patience the arrival of Washington and Rochambeau.

On the 14th of September Washington and Rochambeau arrived at Williamsburg, and La Fayette was rejoiced to behold the consummation of one of his fondest wishes, which was to see Washington at the head of the united French and American armies. Plans were immediately completed for the siege of Yorktown. Washington highly approved of all the measures adopted by La Fayette, and a brilliant success seemed certain.

But a new difficulty unexpectedly arose, which was only removed by the persuasive influence of La Fayette. Information reached the French admiral that the British fleet in New York had received important additions, and he thereupon determined to sail directly against the English fleet. Washington perceived that if they were deserted by the French fleet, their victory over Cornwallis might be very uncertain. He accordingly wrote a letter to Count de Grasse, and sent it by La Fayette, urging the marquis to use his personal influence to prevent this calamity. La Fayette realized the crisis of affairs, and successfully appealed to the count; and the French fleet therefore remained to aid the American army.

The troops from the North having arrived on the 28th, the entire army, moving forward in four columns, halted about twelve miles in front of the enemy, and the famous siege of Yorktown was begun.

The investment was complete. Cornwallis looked out in vain for any chance to escape. The Americans gradually surrounded the town with earthworks, redoubts, and trenches, and on the night of the 6th of October a trench seven hundred feet was commenced within six hundred yards of the British lines. So silently was this work done by the French and Americans that the garrison was entirely unaware of it until daylight, by which time the embankments were so high as to shield the men from the enemy’s fire. Batteries and redoubts were speedily erected, and such an unrelenting cannonading was kept up against the garrison that they were forced to withdraw their cannon from the embrasures; and most of their batteries were torn in pieces. On the night of the 11th, Washington opened his second parallel within three hundred yards of the lines. This, like the former, was begun noiselessly and was not discovered by Cornwallis until the next morning. There were two redoubts of the English that seriously interfered with the work of the besiegers, by a constant fire. Washington determined to attack them. La Fayette was appointed to lead the Americans, who should attack one of the redoubts, and the Baron de Viomesnil led a band of Frenchmen against the other.

The baron had once remarked to La Fayette that he thought the French method of attack superior to that of the Americans. La Fayette answered, “We are but young soldiers, and we have but one sort of tactics on such occasions, which is to discharge our muskets and push on straight with our bayonets.”

Both leaders were now to carry out their preconceived military tactics. La Fayette made an impetuous attack and captured the redoubt, and still hearing firing from the other, he sent his aide-de-camp to the baron, inquiring if he should send him assistance. Viomesnil answered, “Tell the marquis that I am not yet master of my redoubt, but that I shall be in less than five minutes.” He kept his word, and before that time had passed, he entered his captured redoubt in perfect military order. Both had been equally successful; but La Fayette was ahead as to time, and the baron, in following strict military rule, was forced to expose his men to a terrible fire from the enemy. The bravery with which this difficult onset was made was highly gratifying to Washington; and he complimented both officers in the orders for the succeeding day. The captured redoubts were included in the second parallel, and soon some howitzers were mounted upon them, and their destructive fire was turned upon the besieged.

Cornwallis now determined to make a bold effort, and he sent out Lieutenant-Colonel Abercrombie at the head of eight hundred chosen men to make a desperate sortie against two batteries of the besieging enemy. So valiant was their charge that they gained possession and spiked four guns, but they were repelled by the Chevalier de Chastellux, and forced to retire. The condition of Cornwallis was now desperate. His ordnance had been dismounted by the terrible firing of the Americans, his walls were crumbling, and nearly all his defences were razed. He resolved to try one more daring design. This was to cross over in the night to Gloucester Point, with such of his troops as were not disabled, and endeavor by forced marches to join the army in New York. The attempt was made, and one division passed over unperceived by the Americans, but a violent storm suddenly arose and drifted the boats down the river, and the plan was abandoned.

On the morning of the 17th Lord Cornwallis opened negotiations and offered to capitulate. On the 19th formal articles of surrender were signed, and Cornwallis and his army were made prisoners of war. “The Americans and French took possession at noon of two bastions, and the garrison defiled between the armies at two o’clock P.M., with drums beating, carrying their arms, which they afterwards piled, with twenty pair of colors. Lord Cornwallis feigned sickness, to avoid surrendering before his soldiers, and General O’Hara accordingly appeared at the head of the garrison. ‘When he came up,’ says Rochambeau, ‘he presented his sword to me. I pointed to General Washington, who was opposite me, at the head of the American army, and told him that the French army being auxiliaries on the continent, it was the American general who was to signify his orders to him.’ As the result of this capitulation 8000 prisoners, of whom 7000 were regular troops and 1000 sailors; 214 pieces of cannon, of which 75 were brass; and 22 pair of colors, passed into the hands of the allies. The men, artillery, arms, military chest, and public stores of every denomination were surrendered to Washington, the ships and seamen to the Count de Grasse.”[^[2]]

[2]. “Mémoires et Manuscrits.”

Lord Cornwallis sent a messenger to La Fayette, “to tell the marquis that, after having made this long campaign against him, he wished to give him a private account of the reasons which had led him to surrender.” The next day La Fayette went to see him. “I know,” said the English general, “your humanity to prisoners, and I recommend my poor army to you.”

“You know, my lord,” replied La Fayette, “the Americans have always been humane towards imprisoned armies.”

Thus did La Fayette refuse even to accept a compliment which seemed to separate him from his American comrades in arms.

The bells in every town and hamlet throughout the country rang out the joyful news of this great victory. Bonfires blazed on every hill-top. Congress repaired in solemn procession to the Dutch Lutheran church, to return thanks to God for this providential deliverance. The names of Washington and La Fayette, Rochambeau and De Grasse, resounded throughout the world. The commander-in-chief ordered that suitable religious services should be held in camp in honor of that Divine Providence who had vouchsafed to them this great blessing.

On the 20th of October, 1781, La Fayette thus wrote to M. de Maurepas:—

“Camp, near York.

“The tragedy is over; the piece is played, Monsieur le Comte, and the fifth act comes to an end.

“I had a little torture during the first, but at last my heart experiences a lively joy, and it gives me not a little pleasure to congratulate you upon the happy success of our campaign.

“I cannot give you the details, Monsieur le Comte, which I intrust to Lauzun, to whom I wish much happiness in crossing the ocean, which he will traverse with the corps of the legion of Tarleton.

“M. de Rochambeau brings to you the account relative to the army which he commands; but if the honor of having commanded for so long a time the division of M. de Saint-Simon gives me the right to speak of my obligations to that general and to his troops, this duty will give me infinite delight.

“Will you kindly, Monsieur le Comte, present my homage to Madame la Comtesse de Maurepas and to Madame de Flamarens, and accept the assurance of my affection, of my remembrances, and of my respect.”

From the same place La Fayette wrote also to M. de Vergennes, as follows:—

“Receive my congratulations, Monsieur le Comte, upon the fortunate turn which has at last come to politics. M. de Lauzun will give you all the details. I am happy that our campaign of Virginia has been so well finished; and my respect for the ability of Lord Cornwallis renders his capture all the more precious to me. After this attempt what English general will come to place himself at the head to conquer America?

“Their Southern manœuvres have not ended more happily than those in the North, and the affair of General Burgoyne has been repeated.

“Adieu, Monsieur le Comte; the time which I have for writing is so brief that I will only add the assurance of respect and of tender attachment.”

From on board the Ville de Paris, in the Chesapeake Bay, La Fayette thus writes to his wife:—

Oct. 22, 1781.

“Behold the last instant, my dear heart, in which it is possible for me to write you. M. de Lauzun is about to join the frigate and depart for Europe. Some business with the admiral affords me the pleasure of giving to you the latest news of the past two days.

“That which has occurred regarding public events will be detailed by M. de Lauzun. The end of this campaign is truly brilliant for the allied armies. There has been in our movements a rare harmony, and I should have been much disappointed had I not the satisfaction of this happy ending of my campaign in Virginia.

“You are aware of all the difficulties that the superiority and the talents of Lord Cornwallis have occasioned us; the advantage which we had following the recovery of the territory lost, and which ended in the position which we forced Lord Cornwallis to take; it was at that moment that everybody rushed in upon him.

“I count amongst my many pleasant experiences the time when the division of M. de Saint-Simon was reunited to my army; and, also, when I alternately commanded the three adjutant-generals with the troops under their order. I pity Lord Cornwallis, of whom I have the most exalted opinion. He wished to test such estimation, and after the capitulation gave me the pleasure of returning the incivility of Charleston. I do not purpose to carry vengeance any further.

“My health is excellent. I have not received any injury during my operations. Present my most tender homage to Madame d’Ayen, to M. le Maréchal de Noailles; a thousand compliments to all my sisters, to l’Abbé Fayon, to M. de Margelay.

“I embrace a thousand and a thousand times our dear children. Adieu! adieu!”

Washington desired to follow up the advantages which the Americans had gained, by an expedition against Charleston; but as De Grasse had prior orders from his sovereign, preventing his remaining longer in America, the project was abandoned, and the American army retired into winter quarters.

Again La Fayette sought permission from Congress to visit his native land, and after receiving the highest testimonials from Washington and Congress, and also from the king and ministry of France, he sailed from Boston in the frigate Alliance, on the 22d of December, 1781.

The greatest enthusiasm was excited by La Fayette’s arrival in France. Royal salons courted his presence, and high-born dames and gallant cavaliers vied to do him homage. Even sovereigns deigned to note with especial honor his return. Madame de La Fayette was present at a grand fête at the Hôtel de Ville, in celebration of the Dauphin’s birth, when the news was proclaimed that La Fayette, the conqueror of Cornwallis, had just arrived; and, sympathizing with the impatient joy of the fond wife, the queen herself ordered her carriage and accompanied Madame de La Fayette to the Hôtel de Noailles, where La Fayette had just alighted.

The joy of the reunion between La Fayette and his family is more fittingly told in the words of his daughter Virginie than by another.

Speaking of her father’s second visit to America, she says:—

“My father left France once more for America, where the war still continued. The grief which my mother felt was still greater than at his first departure. Her attachment had been increased both by her anxieties on his account and by the enchanting moments she had spent with him. She was then nineteen. Her impressions had become stronger and deeper; a more intimate and serious confidence had associated her riper intellect with my father’s opinions and designs: her mind was with him as well as her heart.

“Nevertheless, what she suffered during the campaign of Virginia surpassed all she had yet endured. As the English papers, which alone brought any news, always depicted the situation as desperate, the most disastrous reports came to her knowledge; but she had the courage to hide them from her mother, and endeavored to bear all her sufferings alone.

“The brilliant conclusion of that campaign which had been conducted by my father, and had ended by the capture of Lord Cornwallis, caused her a happiness which had been purchased by prolonged sufferings. My father arrived unexpectedly in Paris on the 21st of January, 1782. The joy of seeing him again, returned with so much glory out of so many dangers, and the fascination of his presence, were intensely felt by my mother. So overpowering were her feelings that for several months she felt ready to faint every time he left the room. She was alarmed at the vehemence of her passion, fearing that she could not always conceal it from my father, and that it might become annoying to him, and she therefore endeavored to restrain it for his sake only.”

This touching little scene of an ideal love-life is a charming picture in La Fayette’s history. Scarcely anywhere in history can be found the record of two souls in such perfect harmony of thought and feeling as the Marquis and Marquise de La Fayette. To the end their life was unmarred by the least discord or misunderstanding. The world crowned him with honor; and he laid at her feet his diadem of glory, and felt himself rewarded by her tender smile of approving love.

It is fitting that we should here quote a few lines from a letter written to Washington by La Fayette, in October, 1782, announcing the birth of this same Virginie, who afterwards became such a faithful narrator of the beautiful life of the Marquis and Marquise de La Fayette. The marquis says:—

“My dear General: Since the arrival of Colonel Gimat not one line from you has come to me; this afflicts me intensely, because when I have not the pleasure of being with you it is absolutely necessary for me that I should receive letters from you.

“This will be handed to you by General Dupontail and Colonel Gouvion, who return to America. I wish I could do the same; but you know that I am detained here by the American plenipotentiaries, in the hope of serving our cause, which is always to me the principal object.

“General Dupontail will give you the public news; I have communicated those of a more secret nature to the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, and I have requested him to transmit my letter to your Excellency. You will be able to form your opinion upon the situation of affairs; but although their progress does not permit me (on account of the reasons which I have already explained) to leave this country at the present time, my personal opinion is, that a victory is necessary before a general peace can be brought to a conclusion.

“I have charged Colonel Gouvion to say to you those things which had better not be written, relative to my projects.

“Madame La Fayette desires me to present to you, also to Madame Washington, her respects and affectionate regards. She has a little daughter, just arrived; and though the infant is somewhat delicate, I hope that she will grow up strong. I have taken the liberty of giving to her the name of Virginie.

“I beseech you, my dear General, to present my respects to Madame Washington, and my affectionate compliments to the family. I hope that my conduct, guided by the motives of seeking the greatest public good, and for American interests, will receive from you that approbation which I prefer to that from all the rest of the world. Adieu, my dear General!”

CHAPTER IV.

Preparations in France in Behalf of America—Peace Negotiations—La Fayette’s Unselfish Loyalty—His Diplomatic Measures at the Court of Spain—News of the Treaty of Peace in America—Washington’s Letter of Commendation to La Fayette—La Fayette’s Efforts in the Interests of American Commerce—Secures Exemption of Duties on Oil—Washington’s Invitation from Mount Vernon—La Fayette’s Return to America—Memorable Visit to Mount Vernon—Triumphal Reception of the Nation’s Guest—His Ovation at Boston—Congress tenders La Fayette a Farewell—Last Parting between Washington and La Fayette—Act of the Maryland Assembly to naturalize the Marquis de La Fayette—His Return to France—La Fayette’s Visit to Frederick the Great—His Description of the Prussian Warrior—Memorable Dinner at Sans Souci—La Fayette’s Sympathies for the Oppressed African Race—His Letter to Washington on the Subject of Slavery—La Fayette’s Philanthropic Example at Cayenne—Washington’s comments upon the Same—La Fayette’s Efforts in Behalf of Persecuted French Protestants—Madame Washington’s Housewifely Gift to Madame La Fayette—Comments upon the French Alliance, and the Character of General La Fayette, by Hon. Chauncey M. Depew.

“On the light of Liberty you saw arise the light of Peace, like

‘another morn,

Risen on mid-noon’;

and the sky on which you closed your eye was cloudless.”

—Daniel Webster.

LA FAYETTE in France was not unmindful of the interests of America. Largely through his influence a grand armament was put in preparation by France and Spain, to encounter the British power in the West Indies and North America. Sixty vessels and twenty-four thousand men assembled at Cadiz. La Fayette was appointed chief of the staff of both armies. These vast preparations were looked upon by England with alarm, and quickened their negotiations with the United States for arranging a peace.

At this time La Fayette wrote the following letter to Washington, dated at Brest, December, 1782, and marked “Tout-à-fait confidentielle”:—

“My dear General: My preceding letters have apprised you that though the politicians speak much of peace, an expedition is about to take place, of which the command has been given to Count d’Estaing. I will add that, having been solicited to take part in it, I have accepted willingly, thinking it was the only means in the world of succeeding in that which you have charged me to obtain.

“Colonel Gouvion ought to be with you, and I refer, my dear General, to that letter which I have sent to you by him; also to some notes which I have written in cipher. Les Antilles are the first object. Spain will come after. We have nine ships of the line to send by the first favorable wind. Your Excellency knows that the Count d’Estaing has gone to Spain. We have the maritime superiority. Will you prepare your propositions and your projects relative to New York, Charleston, Penobscot, and the New World? A French vessel will be sent to America, and from there, by your orders, to the West Indies.

“I will write you by the next opportunity. I have the honor of sending to you, with this, a copy of a letter to Congress. I hope that you can say that you are satisfied with my conduct. In truth, my dear General, it is necessary to my happiness that you should think thus. When you are absent, I strive to do that which seems to me that you would have counselled if you had been present. I love you too much to be for a moment satisfied unless I can think that you approve my conduct.

“They talk much of the peace. I think, entre nous, that the greatest difficulty will come from the Spaniards, and, moreover, I believe that the enemies are not sincere.

“They have piled up disputes and artifices à propos to the question of the American limits, and thus it rests. My opinion is, that at the bottom of their hearts they are determined, if they can, to attempt to bring about some turn of their affairs in the next campaign. God grant that we shall be able to make a vigorous effort, particularly as regards New York.

“I arrived here but yesterday morning, and am much occupied with the affairs of the service.”

On the 20th of January, 1783, the final treaty was signed. La Fayette was then at Cadiz preparing to sail to America, bearing the news of the glad tidings of peace, when an occurrence took place which revealed the unselfishness of his ambition, and the loyalty of his love for America. Mr. Carmichael, who had been appointed by Congress Chargé d’Affaires to the court of Madrid, was not received by the king of Spain in his diplomatic relation, although that monarch had signed the treaty acknowledging the independence of the States. In this emergency, Mr. Carmichael wrote to La Fayette, seeking his aid. The marquis generously determined to deprive himself of the great pleasure of announcing to Washington the joyful news of the treaty; and he therefore sent a letter to the President of Congress, communicating the tidings of peace, while he himself hastened to Madrid to negotiate in behalf of the honor of America; and he obtained from the king the full recognition of the American ambassador in his official character.

The following is the memorable letter of La Fayette to Congress, announcing the treaty of peace:—

“To the President of Congress.

“Cadiz, Feb. 5, 1783.

“Sir: With such celerity as I can despatch a ship, I hope to inform Congress of the news of a general peace. Moreover, such are my sentiments under these circumstances that I cannot delay to present my felicitations. These sentiments one can judge of better through a knowledge of my heart, which, by means of such expressions, can only feebly render its emotions.

“I remember our former times with pleasure and with pride. Our present situation renders me happy. I behold in the future a tempting prospect.

“The preceding letters have made known to Congress how, until now, I had the intention of leaving France. I have been detained by some despatches. I refer to my letter of the 3d for a fuller explanation of my conduct.

“Now the noble struggle is ended. I rejoice in the benefits of peace. There are here anchored nine ships of the line, with twenty thousand men, with whom the Count d’Estaing was about to join the combined forces of the West Indies, and which would have co-operated with our American army. It had even been arranged that while the Count d’Estaing was employed elsewhere, I should enter the St. Lawrence at the head of a French corps. For that which concerns myself, I have no regrets; but independent of personal considerations, you know that I have always longed for the addition of Canada to the United States.

“I promised myself to return to America after the peace. Notwithstanding the pain of being detained, it is necessary to defer this voyage. Any sacrifice will not be counted by me for the accomplishment of my duties; and since it has pleased Congress to order that their ministers should consult with me, my first interest is to merit their confidence.

“From my letter to M. Livingston, one can form an opinion of our situation in Spain. They have demanded my aid, and I have given it. They desire my services, and instead of departing for America I will go to Madrid, which is so far from my plan; but I believe that it will be better for me to go there during the residence of Mr. Jay in Paris; so that nothing shall hinder me, unless Congress honors me with their orders. I shall embark in the coming June, because I am very eager to behold again the American shores.

“To-day our noble cause has triumphed; our independence is firmly established; and American virtue has obtained its recompense. I hope no efforts will be neglected to strengthen the federal union.

“May the states be always strongly united in a manner to defy European intrigues! Upon such union will repose their importance and their happiness. This is the first wish of a heart most truly American, and which cannot refrain from expressing these words.

“I have the honor to be, with the greatest respect, etc.”

After divers negotiations attempted from the commencement of the year 1782, the preliminaries of a peace between France and England were signed at Versailles, on the 20th of January, 1783, by M. de Vergennes and Mr. Fitz-Herbert, plenipotentiary of his British Majesty. These preliminaries were converted into a definite treaty of peace the 3d of September, 1783. It was signed, for France, by M. de Vergennes; for Spain, by the Count d’Aranda; and for England, by the Duke of Manchester. The final treaty between Great Britain and the United States was signed at Paris, Jan. 20, 1783, by Mr. David Hartly, on the one side, and by Messrs. John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and John Jay, on the other side. This sitting had also concluded at Paris the peculiar treaty between Great Britain and the états-généraux of Holland.

We cannot refrain from quoting also a portion of the delightful letter written to Washington by La Fayette, of the same date as the above communication, addressed to Congress.

“My dear General: If you were such a man as Cæsar, or as the king of Prussia, I should have been much grieved for you to behold the grand tragedy terminated, in which you have played so great a rôle. But I congratulate myself with my dear general over this peace which has accomplished all our wishes.

“Recall to your mind our times at Valley Forge, and let the remembrance of those past dangers and afflictions add greater joy to the happiness of our present situation. What sentiments of pride and satisfaction I feel in pondering upon the circumstances which determined my engagement in the cause of America! As for you, my dear General, one can truly say that it is all your work; such must be the sentiments of your good and virtuous heart, in this happy moment which establishes and which crowns the revolution which you have made.

“I feel that every one will envy the happiness of my descendants, as they cherish and honor your name. To have had one of their ancestors amongst your soldiers, to know that he had the happy fortune to be the friend of your heart, will be an eternal honor in which they will glory; and I shall bequeath to the eldest amongst them, down to the latest of my posterity, the favor which you have been willing to confer upon my son George.

“I was intending to go to America with the news of the peace. You know me too well, my dear General, not to judge of the pleasure which I felt in advance, at the hope of embracing you and being reunited to my companions in arms. Nothing could please me so much as that delightful prospect; but I have been suddenly forced to change the execution of my favorite plan, and as I have had at last the happiness of receiving a letter from you, I know that you will approve of my prolonging my absence, for political motives.

“A copy both of my letter to Congress and that which I have written officially to M. Livingston, requesting that they may be communicated to you, will inform you more fully of the reasons which press me to depart for Madrid. After that, I shall go to Paris, and in the month of June embark for America. Happy, ten-times happy shall I be to embrace my dear general, my father, my best friend, whom I cherish with an affection and respect which I feel so deeply that I know it is impossible to express it!

“You will see by my letter to Congress that independently of the plans which had been proposed to you, and for which were united immense forces by sea and land, it had at length been decided that I should enter into Canada. I have had the hope of embracing you at Montreal, when I was to have been joined by a detachment of the army. The necessity of some diversion secured for us the consent of Spain; but these projects have vanished, and we ought to console ourselves in thinking of the happiness of that part of the continent to which you have given deliverance.

“I am impatient, my dear General, to hear from you, and to inform you of myself, for which purpose I send my servant by this vessel, and for whom I have arranged that he be landed on the coast of Maryland. I hope to receive your reply before leaving France, and I shall be then where I wish to go. If you are at home, I will direct my way toward the Chesapeake Bay.

“You cannot, my dear General, employ your influence more wisely than to persuade the American people to strengthen the federal ties. This is a task which appeals to your heart, and I consider this result as necessary. Be assured that the European politicians will be disposed to create a division amongst the states. This is the time when the powers of Congress ought to be fixed, their possible limits determined, and the Articles of Confederation revised. This work, which should interest all the friends of America, is the last test; this is wanting to the perfection of the temple of Liberty.

“And the army, my dear General! What is to be its future? I hope that the country will be grateful. If it is otherwise, I shall be very unhappy. Our part of the army, will they remain united? If not, I hope that we shall not lose our noble titles as officers and soldiers of the American army; and that in a time of danger we can be recalled from all corners of the world, and reunited for the defence of a country which has been so heroically saved.

“I am anxious to know the measures which will be taken. Truly, I count upon your kindness to write me a very detailed letter, not only in the public interests, but also because I have the desire to be informed of all that which concerns you personally.

“Adieu! adieu, my dear General! If the Spaniards had common sense, I should have been spared this wretched journey to Madrid, but I am called there by a duty to America.

“Let us return, at present, to our own affairs; for I will urge you to return to France with me. The best way to arrange it will be for Madame Washington to accompany you. She will render Madame de La Fayette and myself perfectly happy. I pray your Excellency to offer my compliments to Tilghman, to George, to all the staff. Remember me to all my friends in the army. Have the kindness to speak of me to your respected mother. I wish her happiness, with all my soul. Adieu, yet once more, my dear General, with all the sentiments, etc.”

La Fayette’s letter, bearing its weighty message, was sent in a fast-sailing vessel appropriately named The Triumph. This ship arrived in Philadelphia on the 23d of March, 1783, bringing to Congress the intelligence of the treaty of peace. Testimonials in honor of La Fayette were passed by Congress, and Washington wrote to him these words of commendation:—

“It is easier for you to conceive, than for me to express, the sensibility of my heart at the communication of your letter of the 5th of February, from Cadiz. It is to these communications we are indebted for the only account yet received of a general pacification. My mind, upon the receipt of this intelligence, was instantly assailed by a thousand ideas, all of them contending for pre-eminence; but, believe me, my dear friend, none could supplant or ever will eradicate that gratitude which has arisen from a lively sense of the conduct of your nation, and to my obligations to many of its illustrious characters (of whom, without flattery, I place you at the head), and from my admiration of your august sovereign, who, at the same time that he stands confessed the father of his own people, and the defender of American rights, has given the most exalted example of moderation in treating with his enemies.

“The armament which was preparing at Cadiz, and in which you were to have acted a distinguished part, would have carried such conviction with it, that it is not to be wondered at that Great Britain should have been impressed with the force of such reasoning. To this cause, I am persuaded, the peace is to be ascribed. Your going to Madrid from thence, instead of coming immediately to this country, is another instance, my dear Marquis, of your zeal for the American cause, and lays a fresh claim to the gratitude of her sons, who will at all times receive you with open arms.”

American independence having been secured, La Fayette now interested himself in advancing the commercial influence of America in France. The whale fishery was an important American industry; and La Fayette, by persevering efforts, secured a total exemption of duties on sixteen thousand quintals of oil, to be furnished by merchants of Boston to the contractor-general for lighting the cities of Paris and Versailles. Regarding this he modestly wrote: “I worked very hard to bring even as much as this about, and am happy at having at last obtained a point which may be agreeable to New England and the people of Boston. I wish they may, at large, know I did not neglect their affairs; and although this is a kind of private bargain, yet as it amounts to a value of about eight hundred thousand French livres, and government has been prevailed upon to take off all duties, it must be considered a matter of no little importance.”

From the quiet retreat of Mount Vernon, Washington wrote to the marquis, and renewed his previous invitation to visit him when peace should have been accomplished. The weary warrior thus pictures his retired life:—

“At length I have become a private citizen on the banks of the Potomac; and under the shadow of my own vine and fig-tree, free from the bustle of the camp and the busy scenes of public life, I am solacing myself with those tranquil enjoyments of which the soldier, who is ever in pursuit of fame; the statesman, whose watchful days and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of other countries (as if this globe was insufficient for us all); and the courtier, who is always watching the countenance of his prince, in the hope of catching a gracious smile, can have very little conception. I have not only retired from all public employments, but am retiring within myself, and shall be able to view the solitary walk and tread the paths of private life with heart-felt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all; and this, my dear friend, being the order of my march, I will move gently down the stream of life until I sleep with my fathers.”

Again La Fayette turned his face toward the New Land of Liberty. He arrived in New York in August, 1784, where he was received with distinguished honors, and his journey to Philadelphia and Baltimore was a succession of triumphs. Bells echoed from mountain-peak to hill-top, cannon boomed their thunders of welcome, and old Revolutionary soldiers gathered around their honored comrade with admiring respect. But he hastened to the alluring heights of Mount Vernon, where his beloved chief and general impatiently awaited his arrival. Twelve days of delight he spent with Washington in that picturesque retreat.

Triumph after triumph yet awaited the nation’s guest, the now illustrious but still youthful Marquis de La Fayette; loved better in America as the valiant major-general than as the gentleman of rank. But amid all the cities that strove to do him honor, Boston, this time, outstripped them all. His ovation there occurred on the anniversary of the surrender of Cornwallis, and the governor of the state, the president the Senate, and the speaker of the House of Representatives assembled in the great hall where thousands awaited to do him honor. The apartment was brilliantly and appropriately ornamented, and emblems of the thirteen states of the Union floated from arch and pillar. After dinner thirteen patriotic toasts were drunk, followed each by thirteen guns stationed in the square without. As the name of Washington was spoken, and La Fayette arose to reply, a curtain behind the marquis was mysteriously lifted, revealing a noble portrait of the great general encircled with laurels and decorated with the entwined flags of America and France. La Fayette, surprised and moved, regarded those loved features with evident emotion, and his silent admiration was at length broken by a voice exclaiming, “Long live Washington!” And the cry was quickly taken up, and from all the people rose a shout of vociferous applause, “Long live Washington!”

LAFAYETTE’S ROOM AT MOUNT VERNON.

Congress, then assembled at Trenton, tendered a farewell to their illustrious guest; and to the courtly greeting of Mr. Jay, chairman of the committee appointed to wait upon him, La Fayette made this fitting reply:—

“May this immense temple of Freedom ever stand a lesson to oppressors, an example to the oppressed, and a sanctuary for the rights of mankind! and may these happy United States attain that complete splendor and prosperity which will illustrate the blessings of their government, and for ages to come rejoice the departed souls of its founders!”

And the echoes of La Fayette’s words come still rolling down the years, “May this temple of Freedom stand!”

La Fayette’s parting from Washington was most tender and affecting. As the old general pressed to his heart the youthful form of his beloved and adopted son, tears filled his eyes, and La Fayette, too, looked through dim mists, and both were proud to show their mutual love.

With a prophetic presentiment that they should never meet again, Washington afterwards wrote to La Fayette these touching words:—

“In the moment of our separation, and every hour since, I have felt all that love, respect, and attachment for you, with which length of years, close connection, and your merits have inspired me. I often asked myself, as our carriages separated, whether that was the last sight I should ever have of you; and though I wished to say no, my fears answered yes! I called to mind the days of my youth, and found that they had fled to return no more; that I was now descending the hill I had been fifty years climbing, and that, though I was blessed with a good constitution, I was of a short-lived family, and might soon expect to be entombed in the mansion of my fathers. These thoughts darkened the shades and gave a gloom to the picture, and, consequently, to my prospect of seeing you again.”

And truly this was their last meeting and their last parting on this earth. When, in after years, La Fayette again visited America, Washington slept under the sod at Mount Vernon, and the sorrowful marquis could only satisfy his affectionate remembrance of that ideal friendship by dropping his silent tears upon the tomb of his adopted father.

The following act to naturalize Major-General the Marquis de La Fayette and his heirs male forever was passed November session, 1784, by the Assembly of Maryland:—

“Whereas, the General Assembly of Maryland anxious to perpetuate a name dear to the state, and to recognize the Marquis de La Fayette as one of its citizens, who, at the age of nineteen, left his native country, and risked his life in the late revolution; who, on his joining the American army, after being appointed by Congress to the rank of major-general, disinterestedly refused the usual reward of command, and sought only to deserve, what he attained, the character of patriot and soldier; who, when appointed to conduct an incursion into Canada, called forth, by his prudence and extraordinary discretion, the approbation of Congress; who, at the head of an army in Virginia baffled the manœuvres of a distinguished general, and excited the admiration of the oldest commanders; who early attracted the notice and obtained the friendship of the illustrious General Washington; and who labored and succeeded in raising the honor and name of the United States of America: Therefore,

“Be it enacted by the General Assembly of Maryland, That the Marquis de La Fayette and his heirs male forever shall be, and they, and each of them, are hereby deemed, adjudged, and taken to be natural-born citizens of this state, and shall henceforth be entitled to all the immunities, rights, and privileges of natural-born citizens thereof, they and every one of them, conforming to the constitution and laws of this state, in the enjoyment and exercise of such immunities, rights, and privileges.”

A similar act was also passed by the legislature of Virginia.

La Fayette returned to Paris in January, 1785. During this year the marquis visited the courts of many of the German princes, and was everywhere received with marked distinction. But the fawning of courtiers could not move La Fayette from his declared position as an upholder of freedom. Even old Frederick the Great was forced to acknowledge the power of the impulsive champion of liberty. La Fayette was invited by the admiring tyrant to Sans Souci, and the Prussian monarch treated him with distinguished consideration. Many were their warm discussions upon liberty and the American Revolution, the success of which made even the haughty old king tremble on his tottering throne.

In one of these conversations Frederick declared that the American Republic would not last. “She will return to the good old system by and by,” said he; to which La Fayette, with earnestness, replied: “Never, Sire; never! Neither monarchy nor aristocracy can ever exist in America. Do you believe that I went to America to obtain military reputation? It was for liberty I went there. He who loves liberty can only remain quiet after having established it in his own country.”

To which the old tyrant grimly and sarcastically answered: “Sir, I knew a young man, who, after having visited countries where liberty and equality reigned, conceived the idea of establishing the same system in his own country. Do you know what happened to him?”

“No, Sire.”

“He was hanged,” said the old monarch, with a meaning smile.

When La Fayette took his leave of the Prussian warrior, Frederick presented to the marquis his miniature set in diamonds, as a token of his admiring regard. In La Fayette’s “Memoirs” he thus sketches Frederick the Great as he appeared at the time of this visit:—

“I have been to Potsdam,” says the marquis, “to pay my court to the king; and though I had heard much of his appearance, I was not fully prepared to see him dressed in an old, ragged, dirty uniform, all covered with Spanish snuff, his head leaning over one shoulder, and his fingers almost dislocated with gout. But what surprised me most was the fire, and occasionally the softness, in his eyes—the handsomest eyes I have ever seen; so that his face can be as charming when he is pleased as it can be stern and threatening at the head of his army. I was in Silesia when he reviewed thirty-one battalions and seventy-five squadrons—thirty thousand men in all, seventy-five hundred of them being cavalry.

“It is with the greatest pleasure that I viewed the Prussian army! nothing can be compared to the beauty of the troops,—to the discipline which rules in all the ranks, to the simplicity and uniformity of their movements. It is a perfectly regular machine, wound up these forty years, and which has not suffered from other changes than those which could render it more simple and more swift. All the situations which one can suppose in a war, all the movements which ought to be introduced, have been, by constant habit, so inculcated in their heads, that all these operations are made almost mechanically.

“If the resources of France, the vivacity of her soldiers, the intelligence of her officers, the national ambition, the delicate sensibilities which they are known to possess, had been applied to a system as well carried out, we should have been then as much ahead of the Prussians as our army is at this moment inferior to theirs; and that is much to say.

FREDERICK II.

“I have seen also the Austrians, but not all assembled. Their general system of economy should be more admired than the manœuvres of their troops. Their method is not simple; our regiments are better than theirs, and such advantage as they could have in line over us, we could with a little practice surpass them. I really believe that there is no need for more instructions of details in some of our best regiments than in those of the Prussians; but their manœuvres are infinitely preferable to ours.

“In a week I dined with the Prussian king, his dinner lasting three hours. The conversation was confined to the Duke of York, the king, myself, and two or three others, so that I had plenty of opportunity to listen to him, and to admire the vivacity of his wit and the charm of his graciousness.

“At last I almost forgot he was a despot, selfish and severe. Lord Cornwallis was there. The king placed him next me at table, and on his other hand he had the son of the king of England; then he asked a thousand questions on American affairs.”

This was surely a strange combination of circumstances and of guests; but just this sort of ironical environments would delight the sarcastic soul of the cunning old warrior.

La Fayette had an equally strange experience in America. During his campaign in Virginia, in an action in which he was in command, General Phillips was killed, and this general had been the officer who had commanded the enemy’s troops at Minden when the father of La Fayette was slain.

La Fayette met Cornwallis again in 1801, when the English lord came over to Paris to negotiate a general peace.

American independence having been secured, La Fayette’s sympathies were aroused in behalf of the oppressed African race. His soul abhorred injustice of any sort, and when he met a wrong he always endeavored to aid in righting it.

He did not content himself with æsthetically expressing his sympathy, but his enthusiasm always led him to action. Whatsoever he did he entered into with his whole might, and where there was wrong and oppression, he felt himself called upon to devote his energies, his position, and his purse in the cause of the oppressed. So greatly was he moved in behalf of the negro slaves, that he wrote to Washington soon after the American war as follows:—

“Permit me, my dear General, now that you are about to enjoy some repose, to propose a plan for elevating the African race. Let us unite in purchasing a small estate where we may try the experiment of freeing the negroes, and use them only as tenants. Such an example as yours would render the practice general; and if we should succeed in America, I will cheerfully devote a part of my time to render the plan fashionable in the West Indies. If it be a wild scheme, I would rather be mad in that way than be thought wise on the other tack.” Although Washington, Adams, Franklin, Jefferson, Madison, Patrick Henry, and others cordially sympathized with him, nothing definite was done except by the indefatigable La Fayette himself. Not waiting for others, he purchased a plantation in Cayenne, upon which were a large number of slaves, and in order to prepare them for gradual emancipation, he began to fit them for their freedom by a thorough course of education.

Regarding this philanthropic act of La Fayette, his daughter Virginie writes:—

“An earnest wish to contribute to all that was good, and a horror for all injustice, were prominent features in my mother’s character. It was, therefore, with deep satisfaction that she witnessed my father’s efforts in favor of the abolition of the slave trade. He purchased a plantation at Cayenne, La Belle Gabrielle, in order to give the example of gradual emancipation. Every just and liberal idea found a place in my mother’s heart, and her active zeal made her seek ardently for every means of putting them into immediate execution. My father entrusted her with all the details of this undertaking, in which the desire of teaching the negroes of that plantation the first principles of religion and of morals was united with the wish she shared with my father of making them worthy of liberty. Her charity was excited by the hope of teaching the blacks to know and love God, and of proving to the free-thinkers who sympathized with the negroes that the success of their undertaking would be in great part due to religion. The events of the Revolution have not allowed us to see these hopes realized, but we have at least had the satisfaction of hearing that the negroes of La Belle Gabrielle did not commit the atrocities which were perpetrated in other places.”

Regarding this philanthropic plan of La Fayette’s for the uplifting of the negroes, Washington thus wrote to him in 1786: “Your late purchase in Cayenne, with a view of emancipating your slaves, is a generous and noble proof of your humanity. Would to God a like spirit might diffuse itself generally into the minds of the people of this country! But I despair of seeing it. Some petitions were presented to the Virginia Assembly at its last session for the abolition of slavery, but they could scarcely obtain a hearing. To set the slaves afloat at once would, I really believe, be productive of much inconvenience and mischief; but by degrees it certainly might, and assuredly ought, to be effected, and that, too, by legislative authority.”

La Fayette also interested himself at this time in behalf of the persecuted French Protestants. Though himself belonging to the Romish Church, he was neither bigoted nor intolerant, and hated the tyranny of priests as bitterly as the tyranny of kings.

In the midst of the sterner subjects regarding war and politics, which form so large a part of the correspondence between Washington and La Fayette, it may be pleasing to note the following homely little incident which brings both men in somewhat closer relationship with lesser mortals whose lives are made up of petty details and home affairs. In the “Mémoires et Manuscrits” of La Fayette, a work published by his family, in Paris, in 1837, and which has never been entirely translated into English, only scattered letters having been from time to time culled therefrom, for the various sketches given regarding the life of La Fayette, we have noticed much valuable and interesting information not elsewhere to be found.

Among the correspondence of General La Fayette many letters from Washington were collected, several of which were quoted in their proper chronological order, and of the date of June, 1786, we find the following little note, which is interesting, as it takes us into the home-circle at Mount Vernon, and shows us the goodly housewife in the person of Lady Washington, and the kindly host rather than the stately general in this picture of Washington. The note reads as follows:—

“My dear Marquis: You will be astonished to see so ancient a date upon the letter which I send you, if I did not say to you that the ship which was to have carried this letter has since returned. Nothing new has occurred since then, and I would not give you the weariness of a second epistle, if I had not forgotten to say to you that Madam Washington sends to Madame de La Fayette a cask of ham. I know not if these are better, or even as good, as those in France, but these are of our own making, and you know that the ladies of Virginia pride themselves upon the excellence of their ham, and we remember that it was a dish much to your taste. She has therefore desired that I offer them to you. I had wished to send with them a barrel of old brandy peaches, but I have not been able to procure enough of good quality to be placed by the side of your luscious wines, and so I send them not. After all, these two gifts would be more proper to offer as a ration after a long march in the rain than to figure upon your table in Paris.”

The Honorable Chauncey M. Depew, in his memorial address, delivered at the unveiling of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor, the gift of France to America, thus ably comments upon the French alliance, and the character of General La Fayette:—

“The French alliance, which enabled us to win our independence, is the romance of history. It overcame improbabilities impossible in fiction, and its results surpass the dreams of imagination. The most despotic of kings, surrounded by the most exclusive of feudal aristocracies, sending fleets and armies officered by the scions of the proudest of nobilities to fight for subjects in revolt and the liberties of the common people, is a paradox beyond the power of mere human energy to have wrought or solved. The march of this mediæval chivalry across our states, respecting persons and property as soldiers never had before, never taking an apple or touching a fence-rail without permission and payment, treating the ragged Continentals as if they were knights in armor and of noble ancestry, captivating our grandmothers by their gallantry, and our grandfathers by their courage, remains unequalled in the poetry of war. It is the most magnificent tribute in history to the volcanic force of ideas and the dynamitic power of truth, though the crust of the globe imprison them. In the same ignorance and fearlessness with which a savage plays about a powder magazine with a torch, the Bourbon king and his court, buttressed by the consent of centuries and the unquestioned possession of every power to the state, sought relief from cloying pleasures and vigor for enervated minds in permitting and encouraging the loftiest genius and the most impassioned eloquence of the time to discuss the rights and liberties of man. With the orator the themes were theories which fired only his imagination, and with the courtiers they were pastimes or jests. Neither speakers nor listeners saw any application of these ennobling sentiments to the common mass and grovelling herd whose industries they squandered in riot and debauch, and whose bodies they hurled against battlement and battery to gratify ambition or caprice. But these revelations illuminated many an ingenuous soul among the young aristocracy, and with distorted rays penetrated the Cimmerian darkness which enveloped[enveloped] the people. They bore fruit in the heart and mind of one youth, to whom America owes much, and France everything,—the Marquis de La Fayette. As the centuries roll by, and in the fulness of time the rays of Liberty’s torch are the beacon lights of the world, the central niches in the earth’s Pantheon of Freedom will be filled by the figures of Washington and La Fayette.

“It is idle now to speculate whether our fathers could have succeeded without the French alliance. The struggle would have been indefinitely prolonged and probably compromised. But the alliance secured our triumph, and La Fayette secured the alliance. The fabled argosies of ancient, and the armadas and fleets of modern, times were commonplace voyages compared with the mission enshrined in this inspired boy. He who stood before the Continental Congress and said, ‘I wish to serve you as a volunteer, and without pay,’ and at twenty took his place with Gates, and Green, and Lincoln as major-generals in the Continental army. As a member of Washington’s military family, sharing with that incomparable man his board, and bed, and blanket, La Fayette won his first and greatest distinction in receiving from the American chief a friendship which was closer than that bestowed upon any other of his compatriots, and which ended only in death. The great commander saw in the reckless daring with which he carried his wound to rally the flying troops at Brandywine, the steady nerve with which he held the column wavering under a faithless general at Monmouth, the wisdom and caution with which he manœuvred inferior forces in the face of the enemy, his willingness to share every privation of the illy-clad and starving soldiery, and to pledge his fortune and credit to relieve their privations, a commander upon whom he could rely, a patriot he could trust, a man he could love.

“The surrender of Burgoyne at Saratoga was the first decisive event of the war. It defeated the British plan to divide the country by a chain of forts up the Hudson and conquer it in detail. It inspired hope at home and confidence abroad. It seconded the passionate appeals of La Fayette and the marvellous diplomacy of Benjamin Franklin; it overcame the prudent counsels of Necker, warning the king against this experiment; and won the treaty of alliance between the old Monarchy and the young Republic. La Fayette now saw that his mission was in France. He said, ‘I can help the cause more at home than here.’ and asked for leave of absence. Congress voted him a sword and presented it with a resolution of gratitude, and he returned, bearing this letter from that convention of patriots to his king, ‘We recommend this young nobleman to your Majesty’s notice, as one whom we know to be wise in council, gallant in the field, and patient under the hardships of war.’ It was a certificate which Marlborough might have coveted, and Gustavus might have worn as the proudest of his decorations. But though king and court vied with each other in doing him honor, though he was welcomed as no Frenchman had ever been by triumphal processions in the cities and fêtes in villages, by addresses and popular applause, he reckoned them of value only in the power they gave him to procure aid for Liberty’s fight in America. ‘France is now committed to war,’ he argued, ‘and her enemy’s weak point for attack is in America. Send there your money and men.’ And he returned with the army of Rochambeau and the fleet of De Grasse.

“‘It is fortunate,’ said De Maurepas, the prime minister, ‘that La Fayette did not want to strip Versailles of its furniture for his dear Americans, for nobody could withstand his ardor.’ None too soon did this assistance arrive, for Washington’s letter to the American commissioners in Paris passed it on the way, in which he made this urgent appeal: ‘If France delays a timely and powerful aid in the critical posture of our affairs, it will avail us nothing should she attempt it hereafter. We are at this hour suspended in the balance. In a word, we are at the end of our tether, and now or never deliverance must come.’ General Washington saw in the allied forces now at his disposal that the triumph of independence was assured. The long, dark night of doubt and despair was illuminated by the dawn of a hope. The material was at hand to carry out the comprehensive plans so long matured, so long deferred, so patiently kept. That majestic dignity which had never bent to adversity, that lofty and awe-inspiring reserve which presented an impenetrable barrier to familiarity, either in council or at the festive board, so dissolved in the welcome of these decisive visitors that the delighted French and the astounded American soldiers saw Washington for the first and only time in his life express his happiness with all the joyous effervescence of hilarious youth.

“The flower of the young aristocracy of France, in their brilliant uniforms, and the farmers and frontiersmen of America, in their faded continentals, bound by a common baptism of blood, became brothers in the knighthood of liberty. With emulous eagerness to be in at the death, while they shared the glory, they stormed the redoubts at Yorktown, and compelled the surrender of Cornwallis and army. While this practically ended the war, it strengthened the alliance and cemented the friendship between the two great peoples. The mutual confidence and chivalric courtesy which characterized their relations has no like example in international comity. When an officer from General Carlton, the British commander-in-chief, came to headquarters with an offer of peace and independence, if the Americans would renounce the French alliance, Washington refused to receive him; Congress spurned Carlton’s secretary bearing a like message; and the states, led by Maryland, denounced all who entertained propositions of peace which were not approved by France as public enemies. And peace with independence meant prosperity and happiness to a people in the very depths of poverty and despair. France, on the other hand, though sorely pressed for money, said, in the romantic spirit which permeated this wonderful union: ‘Of the 27,000,000 livres we have loaned you, we forgive you 9,000,000 as a gift of friendship, and when with years there comes prosperity, you can pay the balance without interest.’

“With the fall of Yorktown La Fayette felt that he could do more for peace and independence in the diplomacy of Europe than in the war in America. His arrival in France shook the continent. Though one of the most practical and self-poised of men, his romantic career in the New World had captivated courts and peoples. In the formidable league which he had quickly formed with Spain and France, England saw humiliation and defeat, and made a treaty of peace by which she recognized the independence of the Republic of the United States.

“The fight for liberty in America was won. Its future here was threatened with but one danger,—the slavery of the negro. The soul of La Fayette, purified by battle and suffering, saw the inconsistency and the peril, and he returned to this country to plead with state legislatures and with Congress for the liberation of what he termed ‘my brethren, the blacks.’ But now the hundred years’ war for liberty in France was to begin. America was its inspiration, La Fayette its apostle, and the returning French army its emissaries. Beneath the trees by day and in the halls at night, at Mount Vernon, La Fayette gathered from Washington the gospel of freedom. It was to sustain and guide him in after years against the temptations of power and the despair of the dungeon. He carried the lessons and the grand example through all the trials and tribulations of his desperate struggle and partial victory for the enfranchisement of his country. From the ship, on departing, he wrote to his great chief, whom he was never to see again, this touching good by: ‘You are the most beloved of all the friends I ever had or shall have anywhere. I regret that I cannot have the inexpressible pleasure of embracing you in my own house, and welcoming you in a family where your name is adored. Everything that admiration, respect, gratitude, friendship, and filial love can inspire is combined in my affectionate heart to devote me most tenderly to you. In your friendship I find a delight which no words can express.’ His farewell to Congress was a trumpet blast which resounded round a world then bound in the chains of despotism and caste. Every government on the continent was an absolute monarchy, and no language can describe the poverty and wretchedness of the people. Taxes levied without law exhausted their property; they were arrested without warrant, and rotted in the Bastile without trial, and they were shot as game, and tortured without redress, at the caprice or pleasure of their feudal lords. Into court and camp this message came like the handwriting on the wall at Belshazzar’s feast. Hear his words: ‘May this immense temple of freedom ever stand a lesson to oppressors, an example to the oppressed, a sanctuary for the rights of mankind, and may these happy United States attain that complete splendor and prosperity which will illustrate the blessings of their government, and for ages to come rejoice the departed souls of its founders.’ Well might Louis the Sixteenth, more far-sighted than his ministers, exclaim, ‘After fourteen hundred years of power the old monarchy is doomed.’”

CHAPTER V.

The French Revolution approaching—Ominous Signs—The Price of Bread—Causes back of the Famine—Influence of the American Revolution—Reckless Extravagance of the French Courts—Public Finances in a State of Chaotic Ruin—Maurepas, Turgot, de Clugny, Necker, and Calonne—Convocation of the Notables—La Fayette chosen a Member—The Direful Financial Chasm—The Notables confronted by the Dreadful Deficit—La Fayette upholds the People’s Rights—His Letter to Washington upon Public Affairs—Washington writes of American Prosperity—La Fayette demands the Convocation of the States-General—The Notables aghast at Such Audacity—Louis obliged to yield to Popular Clamor—Convocation of the States-General—La Fayette chosen a Deputy—The Tiers État—Their Demands—Their Reception—Their Resolve—Defiance of the Tiers État—La Fayette joins the National Assembly—His Famous Declaration of Rights—A Riotous Mob—Storming of the Bastile—La Fayette assumes Command of the National Guards—His Ideas of Liberty Subservient to Law and Order—His Difficult Position—Execution of Foulon—La Fayette’s Resignation—Appeal of the National Guards—La Fayette resumes Command—Awful Juggernaut of the Revolution—A Versailles!—Carlyle’s Description—King Louis and Marie Antoinette at the Mercy of the Mob—La Fayette rescues them—Le Roi à Paris—Versailles deserted.

“What is liberty without wisdom and without virtue? It is the greatest of all possible evils; for it is folly, vice, and madness, without tuition or restraint.”—Burke.

PARIS ran red with blood. The ghastly knife of the guillotine fell incessantly. The terrible tocsin sounded forth its ominous knell under the black midnight sky, and clanged its harsh and horrid discords in the midst of the summer’s stillness, and the glowing brightness of midday. Why were these demons of chaotic riot let loose upon the doomed city? Why had men, and even women, become like wild beasts, thirsting only for blood? Ah! there had gone forth unheeded another wail, before the awful cry of Blood! Blood! Blood! rang through the land. From the homes of twenty-five millions of people had ascended the pitiful appeal for Bread! Bread! Bread! And they had been answered only by the exasperating spectacle of gorgeous banquets, spread in the splendid salons of Versailles, where the weak-minded king and the selfish, shortsighted nobles surfeited themselves with luxuries, while the people died of starvation unheeded.

“What is the price of bread?” asked a stranger of a workingman’s wife. “Three francs twelve sous the quartern,” was the answer. “The price is fixed at twelve sous, but it is not to be had. My husband is obliged to pass a whole day at the door of the baker. He loses his wages of three francs; so that the bread comes to three francs twelve sous the quartern.”

But soon it rises to fourteen sous. “A brisk business is doing on the bridges, in the open places, where men passing with a loaf of bread under their arms re-sell it to the workmen for twenty sous.”

“We want powder for our wigs,” Jean Jacques Rousseau had said; “that is the reason of the poor wanting bread.”

“And the reproach touches the hearts of actresses and fashionable ladies; they discard powder, or use as little as possible: the starch-makers are ordered to employ barley instead of wheat; the pupils of the college Louis le Grand resolve to eat rice, and to offer twenty-eight sacks of wheat. The king forbids the playing of the fountains at the fêtes, in order to turn the water to the Versailles mills; but it is of no use: the associates of the grain monopoly, the makers of the vile Famine Pact, cause a fictitious scarcity by having the markets pillaged, the mills burned, the corn thrown into the river by a band of ruffians. Poor Louis is astonished, and begins to doubt whether he is really king of France.” But there were other causes back of the famine which led to the volcanic outburst of the French Revolution. For long years the terrible mine had been preparing beneath the French monarchy, and at length exploded with awful destruction and blood-curdling horrors.

The dazzling glory of the gorgeous Louis XVI., with all its power and grandeur, was reared over a sleeping volcano, destined to shock the continent of Europe, when at length its slow fires should unite their direful forces for the last mighty eruption.

The glorious success of the American Revolution inspired suffering people in all lands with a clearer hope of future freedom. Regarding its effect upon France a writer says:—

“It is difficult to suppose that so many thousand officers and soldiers had visited America, and fought in behalf of her rights, without being imbued with something of a kindred spirit. There they beheld a new and happy nation, among whom the pride of birth and the distinctions of rank were alike unknown; there they for the first time saw virtue and talents and courage rewarded; there they viewed with surprise a sovereign people fighting, not for a master, but themselves, and haranguing, deliberating, dispensing justice, and administering the laws, by representatives of their own free choice. On their return the contrast was odious and intolerable; they beheld family preferred to merit, influence to justice, wealth to worth; they began to examine into a constitution in which the monarch, whom they were now accustomed to consider as only the first magistrate, was everything, and the people, the fountain of all power, merely ciphers; and they may well be supposed to have wished, and even languished, for a change.

“In fine, the people being left entirely destitute of redress or protection, the royal authority paramount and unbounded; the laws venal, the peasantry oppressed; agriculture in a languishing state, commerce considered as degrading; the public revenues farmed out to greedy financiers; the public money consumed by a court wallowing in luxury; and every institution at variance with justice, policy, and reason,—a change became inevitable in the ordinary course of human events; and, like all sudden alterations in corrupt states, was accompanied with the temporary evils and crimes that made many good men look back on the ancient despotism with a sigh.

“But it was not, however, the influence of the officers and soldiers fresh from the field of American liberty which gave the most fatal blow to the dynasty of the Bourbons. The wanton and reckless extravagance of past courts, culminating in the splendid lustre of Le Grand Monarque, whose dazzling genius and rod of iron won shouts of enthusiastic admiration, even amid the groans of oppression, but whose gorgeous state could be maintained only at the expense of his people’s degradation and bondage, followed by the disreputable court of the despicable Louis XV., had brought the public finances to a condition of chaotic ruin. The annual deficit amounted to millions; and when poor, weak, good-natured Louis XVI. ascended the throne, it was even then tottering upon the edge of the awful abyss, which soon engulfed king and nation in its black and baleful horrors.... When the fearful gulf became visible to Louis XVI. and his cabinet, they looked around despairingly for some means of escape. Maurepas, Turgot, M. de Clugny, and Necker have each tried to stay the coming of the direful doom, but each and all have failed. And now M. de Calonne becomes comptroller-general. Now surely the royal inmates of the Œil-de-Bœuf may breathe more freely. Obstacles seem for a while to flee away before this incomparable comptroller-general.”

“I fear this is a matter of difficulty,” said her Majesty, Queen Marie Antoinette.—“Madame,” replied the comptroller, “if it is but difficult, it is done; if it is impossible, it shall be done.” Truly most admirable was such an all-conquering comptroller-general!

But deficits will not be removed by promises, however prodigal of wind and words, and royal deficits of millions form too wide an abyss for even this boastful comptroller to bridge.

“If we cannot cross this yawning gulf at a leap, what shall we do?” ask king and nobles of their pet Calonne. “We must hold a Convocation of the Notables,” replies the intrepid comptroller-general.

And so the Assembly of the Notables was convened by royal proclamation, and on the 22d of February, 1787, La Fayette, who had been chosen a member from his province, took his seat with his associates in this memorable gathering.

And now the dreadful secret must be revealed; these titled notables must be conducted to the edge of this terrifying precipice, and made to gaze into the black depths of the financial chasm. Consternation blanches the cheeks of these assembled lords; but the courage of La Fayette is not extinguished, nor his love of liberty impaired, nor his bold spirit benumbed by evils however monstrous, or difficulties however defiant. To right the wrong is ever his aim, and to remove the root of error is always his persevering endeavor. Back of the ruinous deficit of millions is a still deeper abyss of evil, into which the brave soul of La Fayette courageously gazes; and though startled at the infamous disclosures of corruption, injustice, bitter abuses, and shameful oppressions, he is not appalled, but in the face of king and nobles he rises chivalrously as the people’s champion, and demands redress. Though a brother of the king is president of this council, though he must protest against both monarch and court, with dignified firmness he fearlessly exclaims: “I repeat with renewed confidence the remark that the millions which are dissipated are collected by taxation, and that taxation can only be justified by the real wants of the state; that the millions abandoned to peculation or avarice are the fruits of the labor, the tears, and perhaps the blood of the people, and that the computation of unfortunate individuals, which has been made for the purpose of realizing sums so heedlessly squandered, affords a frightful subject of consideration for the justice and goodness which, we feel convinced, are the natural sentiments of his Majesty.”

But La Fayette stood alone as the upholder of the people’s rights; the principles of liberty which he thus boldly declared were received with horrified amazement by the old aristocracy, and the heart of the weak monarch was filled with strange foreboding. Before the Assembly closed its session, the heroic words of La Fayette had begun to work their brave mission. Threats of danger reached his ears; but his eye did not quail; he was not awed into silence. His enemies proposed to the king that he should be sent to the Bastile; but their menaces were only received with a smile by La Fayette, who dauntlessly continued his efforts in behalf of the down-trodden people.

ASSEMBLY OF THE NOTABLES.

The following letter from La Fayette to Washington will give a clearer insight regarding the opinions of the marquis upon public affairs:—

“Paris, May 25, 1788.

“My dear General: In the midst of our internal troubles it is a great consolation for me to enjoy the assured prosperity of my adopted country, because the news from America gives me the hope that the constitution will be accepted. Permit me once more, my dear General, to beseech you not to refuse the presidency. The constitution, such as is proposed, responds to many desires; but I fear there are, regarding it, certain passages which will not be completed without danger, if the United States have not the happiness of possessing their guardian angel, who will appreciate the advantages and disadvantages of each clause, and will be aware, before re-entering his quiet retreat, how to determine with precision the degree of force which it is indispensable to give the government, and to limit those powers which one might abuse; in short, to indicate that which remains to be done, in order to attain that perfection to which the new constitution is nearer than that of any other form of government, past or present.

“The affairs of France are reaching a crisis, of which the good results are most uncertain, as the people in general have no inclination to come to extremities. Mourir pour la liberté is not the motto upon this side of the Atlantic; as all the classes are more or less dependent, as the rich love their repose, at the same time that the poor are enervated by misery and ignorance, we have but one resource: it is to reason with them, and to inspire the nation with a sort of passive discontent, or non-obedience which will fatigue the levity and baffle the plans of government.

“The Parliaments, in spite of their inefficiency, have been the necessary champions to move. You will see by the publications—because I have sent you all which have appeared—that the king has raised pretensions, and that the courts of justice are established upon principles so contradictory, that one can scarcely believe that these assertions have been declared in the same country and in the same age. Affairs cannot remain thus; the government has employed the force of arms against the disarmed and expelled magistrates. And the people, say you?—The people, my dear General, have been so benumbed that it has made me sick, and medicines have been necessary to cool my blood. That which has greatly increased my indignation is a bench of justice where the king has created a plenary court composed of judges, of peers, and of courtiers, without a single real representative of the people, and the impudence of the ministers who have dared to say that all the taxes and loans will be registered.

“Thanks to God, we have prevailed against them, and I begin to hope for a constitution. The magistrates have refused to sit in the plenary courts. The thirty-eight peers, of whom a small number have some sense and some courage, will not obey. Some of them, such as my friend La Rochefoucauld, conduct themselves nobly; the others follow at a distance. The Parliaments have unanimously protested, and made an appeal to the nation. The greater part of the inferior courts represent the new régime. Discontent is displayed everywhere, and in several provinces has not been repressed. The clergy who find themselves assembled at this time make remonstrances; the advocates refuse to plead; the government is embarrassed, and begins to resort to apologies; the governors in some cities have been pelted by stones and mud.

“In the midst of these troubles and of this anarchy the friends of liberty fortify themselves daily, close the ear to all negotiations, and declare that they will have a National Assembly or nothing.

“Such, my dear General, is our present situation. For my part, I shall be satisfied to think that, after a little, I shall be in an assembly of the representatives of the French nation, or at Mount Vernon.

“I am so absorbed by these affairs that I will say little to you upon European politics. My disapprobation of the projects of the administration, and the small attempts I have made against it, have forced me to discontinue to see the archbishop; but I become more united to him and to the keeper of the seals, the more I have made clear my indignation against the infernal plan. I am well pleased that the decree regarding America was passed before these troubles, and I occupy myself, through other ministers, in endeavoring to suppress totally the duties upon oil and whalebone, so that the French and American negotiations will be placed upon a basis of equality, even under the revenue premiums, and that without obliging the fishermen to leave the coasts of their country. If we become reunited, it will be necessary to consider immediately the commerce with the West Indies.

“I am happy that we have here M. Jefferson for an ambassador; his talents, his virtues, his excellent character, all constitute a great statesman, a zealous citizen, and a precious friend.

“I pray you, my dear General, to receive my tender homages, etc.”

Regarding Washington’s feelings in view of accepting the presidency, the following lines to La Fayette upon that subject will not be without interest. They were written in answer to La Fayette’s ardently expressed hopes that his revered commander-in-chief would not refuse the important office which the needs of his country forced upon him. The letter was written in 1788.

“I have but a few things, nothing new, except to respond to the opinion which you have already expressed. You think that it will be expedient to accept the office of which you speak; your sentiments are more in accordance with those of my other friends than with mine.

“In truth, the difficulties appear to me to multiply and increase in approaching the period when in accordance with the general belief it will be necessary to give a definite response. In case the circumstances should in some sort force upon me my acceptance, be assured, my dear sir, that I accept the burden with sincere reluctance and with great self-distrust—that which will probably be little credited by the world.

“If I know well the bottom of my heart, the conviction that I fulfil a duty will alone determine me to resume an active part in public affairs; at that time I shall endeavor to form a plan of conduct, and at the risk of losing my past reputation and my present popularity; I will work without respite to remove my fellow-citizens from the difficult situation where they find themselves, in need of credit; and to establish a system of politics which, if it will be followed, will insure their future power and prosperity.

“I believe I perceive a ray of light illuminating the way which leads to that end. The present state of affairs and the tendency of public opinion give me the hope that there will result union, honesty, industry, and frugality—those four pillars of public felicity.”

But this encouraging picture of American affairs was offset by direful scenes in France.

Feeling that justice demanded that if the people were to be taxed they should be represented, La Fayette offered to the Assembly a memorial for the king, in which he entreated his Majesty to convoke a National Assembly, which might accomplish the regeneration of France.

“What, sir!” exclaimed the President of the Council, starting from his seat in astonishment; “do you ask for the convocation of the States-General?”

“Yes, my lord, and even more than that,” was La Fayette’s dauntless reply.

“You wish me then to write and announce to the king that the Marquis de La Fayette moves to convoke the States-General?”

“Yes, my lord,” calmly answered the marquis.

This daring proposition appalled the Notables, but was hailed with shouts of acclamation by the public. The States-General was first convoked by Philippe le Bel, in 1303, and had only rarely assembled since that time. The despotic governments looked upon this institution with abhorrence, for in it the common people were represented. It was composed of the three estates of the kingdom,—the nobles, the clergy, and tiers état, or common people,—and Louis and his court were determined if possible to avoid this dreaded Assembly. But the shout rang out from every quarter of France, in answer to the clarion bugle note which La Fayette had so bravely sounded even in the very midst of the enemy’s camp. “Give us the States-General!” From the Alps and the Pyrenees, the shores of the Mediterranean, and the borders of the Channel, was re-echoed the wild cry, “Give us the States-General!” And Louis, unable to resist the raging tempest of popular opinion, yielded to their demand, and the States-General was by royal edict convened on the 5th of May, 1789.

La Fayette was chosen a deputy by the nobility of Auvergne. To say “let States-General be” was easy; to say in what manner they shall be is not so easy. “How to shape the States-General? There is a problem. Each body corporate, each privileged, each organized class, has secret hopes of its own in that matter, and also secret misgivings of its own; for, behold, this monstrous twenty-million class, hitherto the dumb sheep which these others had to agree about the manner of shearing, is now also arising with hopes! It has ceased or is ceasing to be dumb; it speaks through pamphlets, or at least brays and growls behind them, in unison, increasing wonderfully their volume of sound. What is the third estate? What has it hitherto been in our form of government? Nothing. What does it want? To become something.” These are questions and answers which must now be met. The Assembly was opened with great pomp. A solemn procession in which king, nobles, clergy, and the tiers état all repaired in grand state to Notre Dame, paraded through the streets, and formed a splendid spectacle which was greeted by the people with joyous demonstrations and loud acclamations.

At the first meeting of the Assembly, the three orders convened in separate departments. Here arose the first difficulty. The nobles and the clergy were unwilling to meet with the representatives of the common people, and the tiers état were determined to maintain their contested rights. La Fayette advocated the cause of the tiers état in the assembly of the nobles, but the aristocracy would not yield, and at the end of five weeks the States-General as a united body was still inactive. At length the tiers état resolved upon momentous action. They formed themselves into a legislative body, under the name of the National Assembly, and declared their intention to accomplish political reform. The king and nobles received this unexpected news with consternation. La Fayette warmly urged a union between the departments, but the king and aristocracy refused. Louis then determined to awe these rebellious subjects to submission. He ordered the doors of the hall where the tiers état usually met to be closed and guarded. When the members gathered and found their usual place of meeting denied them, they proceeded to another, and thereupon issued their defiant demand,—A Constitution for the French People; and they solemnly declared with oath, in view of the indignity which had been offered to them by the crown, “never to separate, and to assemble whenever circumstances should require, till the constitution of the kingdom should be established and founded on a solid basis.”

At length, on the 23d of June, the king and nobles assembled in the hall formerly occupied by the tiers état, and after some delay the doors were opened to that body, and the king reproached them for taking the title of National Assembly, and bade them renounce it, and also commanded that the Assembly should immediately separate. The king then left the hall, followed by the nobles and part of the clergy. But scarcely had the sound of the footsteps of royalty died away ere a man arose in the Assembly. It was Mirabeau. With eyes flashing like stars from the gloomy shadows of his pock-marked, disfigured countenance, he exclaimed:—

“What means this insulting dictation? this threatening display of arms? this flagrant violation of the national temple? Who is it that dictates to you the way in which you shall be happy? He who acts by your commission. Who is it that gives you imperious laws? He who acts by your commission,—the minister, who by your appointment is vested with the execution of the laws,—of laws which we only have a right to make.

“To us, twenty-five millions of people are looking to guard from further desecration the sacred ark of liberty, to release them from the burdensome yoke which has so long crushed them, and to give them back their own inalienable right to peace, liberty, and happiness. Gentlemen, an attempt is made to destroy the freedom of your deliberations. The iron chain of despotic proscription is laid upon you. A military force surrounds your Assembly. Where are the enemies of France? Is Catiline at our gates? Gentlemen! I demand that, clothing yourself in your dignity and your legislative authority, you remain firm in the sacredness of your oath, which does not permit us to separate till we have framed a constitution—till we have given a Magna Charta to France.”

Then as the grand master of ceremonies again reminded the Assembly of the commands of the king, Mirabeau exclaimed, “Go and tell your master that we are here by the order of the people, and that we shall depart only at the point of the bayonet.”

“GO AND TELL YOUR MASTER THAT WE ARE HERE BY THE ORDER OF THE PEOPLE.”

La Fayette, with the forty-seven who had stood by his side in declaring the expediency of uniting with the commons, now left the nobility, and took his seat in the National Assembly. The king and aristocracy, finding at length that their resistance was useless, submitted to the popular demand, and on the 27th of June the three orders met together and commenced their united deliberations.

La Fayette was closely observed by all parties. He spoke often in the Assembly, and always on the side of freedom. On the 11th of July he brought forward his famous Declaration of Rights; which after a long and stormy debate, during which it was warmly supported by the republicans, and denounced by the adherents of despotism, was adopted; and the name of La Fayette, “THE PEOPLE’S FRIEND!” was on every lip and enshrined in every heart throughout the kingdom.

This renowned Declaration of Rights reads as follows:—

“Nature has made all men free and equal; the distinctions which are necessary for social order are founded alone on the public good.

“Man is born with inalienable and imprescriptible rights, such as the unshackled liberty of opinion, the care of his honor and life, the right of property, the complete control over his person, his industry, and all his faculties; the free expression of his opinion in every possible manner; the worship of the Almighty; and resistance against oppression.

“The exercise of natural rights has no other limits than those which are necessary to secure their enjoyment to every member of society.

“No man can be made subject to laws which he has not sanctioned, either himself, or through his representatives, and which have not been properly promulgated and legally executed.

“The principle of all sovereignty rests in the people. No body or individual can possess any authority which does not expressly emanate from the nation.

“The sole end of all government is the public good. That good demands that the legislative, executive, and judicial powers should be distinct and defined, and that their organization should secure the free representation of the citizens, the responsibility of their deputies, and the impartiality of the judges.

“The laws ought to be clear, precise, and uniform in their operation toward every class of citizens.

“Subsidies ought to be liberally granted and the taxes proportionally distributed.

“And as the introduction of abuses and the rights of succeeding generations will require the revisions of all human institutions, the nation ought to possess the power, in certain cases, to summon an extraordinary assembly of deputies, whose sole object shall be to examine and correct, if it be necessary, the faults of the constitution.”

On the 14th of July a riotous crowd march to the Invalides, and having armed themselves with the twenty-eight thousand muskets found there, and dragging twenty cannon, they proceed to storm the Bastile. After five hours the Bastile is taken by the people, and the Revolution, which might perhaps have been stayed by different measures on the part of the government, is henceforth destined to work out its direful doings.

THE CROWD ARM THEMSELVES FROM THE INVALIDES.

The National Guard, composed of citizens rather than mercenary soldiers, was now formed, and La Fayette was entrusted with the command. The key of the demolished Bastile was given to him, as the most worthy person to receive this memorial of past oppression. La Fayette was now looked up to by the people as their defender, and the masses gave him warm but fickle homage. Toulongeon says of him: “La Fayette, whose name and reputation acquired in America were associated with liberty itself, was at the head of the Parisian National Guard. He enjoyed at once that entire confidence and public esteem which are due to great qualities. The faculty of raising the spirits, or rather of infusing fresh courage into the heart, was natural to him. His external appearance was youthful and bold, which is always pleasing to the multitude. His manners were simple, popular, and engaging. He possessed everything which is wanting to commence and terminate a revolution,—the brilliant qualities of military activity and the calm confidence of courage in times of public commotion. La Fayette was equal to everything, if everything had been done fairly and openly; but he was unacquainted with the dark and narrow road of intrigue.”

La Fayette’s idea of liberty was always accompanied with a firm belief in law and order; it was not the liberty of unbridled license. When he first upheld the Revolution in France, it was with the same spirit with which he had aided the American Revolution, contending only for liberty and order; and when, during the Reign of Terror, riot and license held the reins of power, then La Fayette was to be found not in sympathy with this wild, reckless turmoil, but always standing by the recognized government, though that government were even a monarchy, and risking his own life to save those royal lives, who so poorly repaid his generous and chivalrous devotion as even to turn with contemptuous coldness toward him who had sacrificed his own popularity to save them from destruction.

At the head of the National Guard La Fayette had a most difficult task to perform during those days of riotous commotion. His sympathies were with the oppressed people; his duty was to maintain public order; his loyalty made him true to his king. When the unfortunate minister Foulon was seized by the mob and dragged before the Assembly, where the rioters clamored loudly for his death, La Fayette thus appealed to the furious crowd:—

“I am known to you all; you have appointed me your commander,—a station which, while it confers honor, imposes upon me the duty of speaking to you with that liberty and candor which form the basis of my character. You wish, without a trial, to put to death the man who is before you; such an act of injustice would dishonor you; it would disgrace me; and were I weak enough to permit it, it would blast all the efforts which I have made in favor of liberty. I will not permit it. I am far from desiring to save him, if he be guilty; I only wish that the orders of the Assembly should be carried into execution, and that this man be conducted to prison, to be judged by a legal tribunal. I wish the law to be respected; law, without which there can be no liberty; law, without whose aid I would never have contributed to the revolution of the New World, and without which I will not contribute to the revolution which is preparing here. What I advance in favor of the forms of law ought not to be interpreted in favor of M. Foulon. But the greater the presumption of his guilt is, the more important is it that the usual formalities should be observed in his case, so as to render his punishment more striking, and by legal examinations, to discover his accomplices. I therefore command that he be conducted to the prison of L’Abbaye St. Germain.”

VIEW OF THE BASTILE.

These remarks were hailed with applause by those within hearing of them; but at this moment a fresh mob broke into the Assembly, and set up a furious yell for vengeance; and notwithstanding the loud intercessions of La Fayette, deaf to everything but their wild fury, the rioters seized the hated Foulon, and rushing forth, hanged him to a lamp post in front of the Hôtel de Ville.

Liberty and law may both be spoken almost synonymously with the name of La Fayette. His abhorrence of such lawless acts of vengeance was as strong as his zeal for freedom. Horrified at the lawlessness of the populace, and feeling that his honor was thereby jeopardized, La Fayette determined to resign his office as commander-in-chief of the National Guard, which he did in the following letter addressed to the mayor of Paris:—

“Sir: Summoned by the confidence of its citizens to the military command of the capital, I have uniformly declared that in the present state of affairs it was necessary, to be useful, that confidence should be full and universal. I have steadily declared to the people that, although devoted to their interest to my last breath, yet I was incapable of purchasing their favor by unjustly yielding to their wishes. You are aware, sir, that one of the individuals who perished yesterday was placed under a guard, and that the other was under the escort of our troops, both being sentenced by the civil power to undergo a regular trial. Such were the proper means to satisfy justice, to discover their accomplices, and to fulfil the solemn engagements of every citizen toward the National Assembly and the king.

“The people would not hearken to my advice; and the moment when the confidence which they promised, and reposed in me, is lost, it becomes my duty, as I have before stated, to abandon a post in which I can no longer be useful. I am, with respect,

“La Fayette.”

The news of La Fayette’s resignation spread consternation throughout the city. The National Guard flocked around him to beseech him to retain his position as their commander. The mayor and council waited upon him at midnight, to solicit him to withdraw his resignation. But La Fayette calmly declined, and the next day appeared before the Assembly to state his reasons for so doing, in the following dignified and courteous terms:—

“Gentlemen, I come to acknowledge the last testimonies of your kindness with all the warmth of a heart whose first desire, after that of serving the people, is to be loved by them, and to express my astonishment at the importance they deign to attach to an individual, in a free country, where nothing should be of real importance except law. If my conduct on this occasion could be regulated by my sentiments of gratitude and affection, I should only reply to the regrets with which you and the National Guard had honored me by yielding obedience to your entreaties; but, as I was guided by no feeling of private interest when I formed that resolution, so also, in the midst of the various causes for agitation that surround us, I cannot allow myself to be governed by my private affections.

“Gentlemen, when I received such touching proofs of affection, too much was done for me and too little for the law. I am convinced how well my comrades love me, but I am still ignorant to what degree they cherish the principles on which liberty is founded. Deign to make known to the National Guard this sincere avowal of my sentiments. To command them, it is necessary that I should feel certain that they unanimously believe that the fate of the constitution depends upon the execution of law, the only sovereign of a free people; that individual liberty, the security of each man’s home, religious liberty, and respect for legitimate authority, are duties as sacred to them as to myself. We require not only courage and vigilance, but unanimity, in these principles; and I thought, and still think, that the constitution will be better served by my resignation, on the grounds I have given, than by my acquiescence in the request with which you have deigned to honor me.”

The National Guards were already assembled, impatiently awaiting La Fayette’s answer; and upon receiving this decision, they immediately passed the following resolution:—

“The National Assembly has decreed that the public forces should be obedient, and a portion of the Parisian army has shown itself essentially disobedient. General La Fayette has only ceased to command that army because they have ceased to obey law. He requires a complete submission to the law, not a servile attachment to his person. Let the battalions assemble. Let each citizen-soldier swear on his word and honor to obey the law. Let those who refuse be excluded from the National Guards. Let the wish of the army, thus regenerated, be carried to General La Fayette, and he will conceive it his duty to resume command.”

After some hesitation La Fayette resolved to resume his command, and withdrew his resignation. His desires were only for the public good. When urged by the municipality of Paris to accept some remuneration for his services, he unselfishly replied:—

“My private fortune secures me from want. It has outlasted two revolutions; and should it survive a third, through the complaisance of the people, it shall belong to them alone.”

Mirabeau said of La Fayette: “There is one man in the state who, from his position, is exposed to the hazard of all events; to whom successes can offer no compensation for reverses; and who is, in some manner, answerable for the repose, we may even say the safety, of the public,—and that man is La Fayette.”

But La Fayette was not superhuman. His arm could not turn backward the awful Juggernaut of the oncoming revolution. The corruption and oppression of past centuries could not be wiped out by the untarnished purity of life and principles of this self-sacrificing Knight of Liberty. And beneath the bloody wheels of the huge Juggernaut of license,—law, liberty, and La Fayette were all to be ruthlessly sacrificed.

The sword of Damocles hung suspended over the head of the unfortunate king, and the throne was tottering, soon to be engulfed in hopeless ruin.

On the morning of the 5th of October, a woman, frenzied with hunger, rushed into a guard-house, and seizing a drum, ran with it along the streets, accompanying her wild beating with the frantic cry of “Bread! bread!” As the crowd increases, every voice takes up the shrill shriek for bread, until at last the mad chorus changes to a furious clamor, and the words “To Versailles!” “A Versailles!“ ring out in hoarse yells from street to street, and the alarm bell sounds the direful tocsin which sends a knell of despair to every listener’s heart.

The news of the riot reaches La Fayette, and he says: “As soon as the tidings reached me, I instantly perceived that, whatever might be the consequence of this movement, the public safety required that I should take part in it, and after having received from the Hôtel de Ville an order and two commissaries, I hastily provided for the security of Paris, and took the road to Versailles, at the head of several battalions.”

THE CROWD SHOUT, “TO VERSAILLES.”

Alarmed lest the Guard themselves might be induced to join in the revolt, he halted on the way and made every one renew his oath of fidelity to the king and obedience to the law. A description of this momentous march is nowhere so quaintly and so graphically told as by Carlyle, who, in spite of certain sarcasms, seems to appreciate La Fayette’s difficult position, and surely it would seem as though only the grim irony of fate could have placed this Knight of Liberty in the midst of such lawless rioters: and yet, throughout all these trying circumstances, La Fayette is not once inconsistent to his avowed principles; and whether he sympathizes with the people’s wrongs, or endeavors to shield his king from their furious attacks, he is ever true to his principles of right and honor.

And so we will let Carlyle take La Fayette to Versailles in his own inimitable way.

“The Three Hundred have assembled; all the Committees are in activity; Lafayette is dictating despatches for Versailles, when a deputation of the Centre Grenadiers introduces itself to him. The deputation makes military obeisance; and thus speaks, not without a kind of thought in it: ‘Mon Général, we are deputed by the six companies of Grenadiers. We do not think you a traitor, but we think the government betrays you; it is time that this end. We cannot turn our bayonets against women crying to us for bread. The people are miserable; the source of the mischief is at Versailles; we must go seek the king, and bring him to Paris. We must exterminate [exterminer] the Regiment de Flandre and the Gardes-du-Corps, who have dared to trample on the National Cockade.

“‘If the king be too weak to wear his crown, let him lay it down. You will crown his son; you will name a Council of Regency, and all will go better.’

“Reproachful astonishment paints itself on the face of La Fayette, speaks itself from his eloquent chivalrous lips in vain. ‘My General, we would shed the last drop of our blood for you, but the root of the mischief is at Versailles; we must go and bring the king to Paris; all the people wish it’ (tout le peuple le veut).

“My General descends to the outer staircase, and harangues once more in vain. ‘To Versailles! To Versailles!’ Mayor Bailly, sent for through floods of Sansculottism, attempts academic oratory from his gilt state-coach, realizes nothing but infinite hoarse cries of, ‘Bread! To Versailles!’ and gladly shrinks within doors. La Fayette mounts the white charger; and again harangues and reharangues, with eloquence, with firmness, indignant demonstration, with all things but persuasion.

“‘To Versailles! To Versailles!’ so lasts it hour after hour, for the space of half a day.

“The great Scipio-Americanus can do nothing; not so much as escape. ‘Morbleu, mon Général!’ cry the Grenadiers, serrying their ranks as the white charger makes a motion that way; ‘you will not leave us, you will abide with us!’ A perilous juncture; Mayor Bailly and the Municipals sit quaking within doors; My General is prisoner without; the Place de Grève, with its thirty thousand regulars, its whole irregular, Saint Antoine and Saint Marceau, is one minatory mass of clear or rusty steel; all hearts set, with a moody fixedness, on one object. Moody, fixed are all hearts: tranquil is no heart, if it be not that of the white charger, who paws there with arched neck, composedly champing his bit, as if no world, with its Dynasties and Eras, were now rushing down. The drizzly day bends westward; the cry is still, ‘To Versailles!’

“Nay, now, borne from afar, come quite sinister cries; hoarse, reverberating in long-drawn hollow murmurs, with syllables too like those of ‘Lanterne!’ Or else, irregular Sansculottism may be marching off, of itself, with pikes; nay, with cannon. The inflexible Scipio does at length, by aide-de-camp, ask of the Municipals whether or not he may go. A letter is handed out to him, over armed heads; sixty thousand faces flash fixedly on his; there is stillness, and no bosom breathes till he has read. By Heaven, he grows suddenly pale! Do the Municipals permit? ‘Permit, and even order,’ since he can no other. Clangor of approval rends the welkin. To your ranks, then; let us march!

“It is, as we compute, towards three in the afternoon. Indignant National Guards may dine for once from their haversacks; dined or undined, they march with one heart. Paris flings up her windows, ‘claps hands,’ as the Avengers with their shrilling drums and shalms tramp by; she will then sit pensive, apprehensive, and pass rather a sleepless night.

“On the white charger, La Fayette, in the slowest possible manner, going and coming, and eloquently haranguing among the ranks, rolls onward with his thirty thousand. Saint Antoine, with pike and cannon, has preceded him; a mixed multitude of all and of no arms hovers on his flanks and skirts; the country once more pauses agape: Paris marche sur nous.

“Towards midnight lights flare on the hill; La Fayette’s lights! The roll of his drums come up the Avenue de Versailles. With peace or with war? Patience, friends! With neither. La Fayette is come, but not yet the catastrophe.

“He has halted and harangued so often on the march; spent nine hours on four leagues of road. At Montreuil, close on Versailles, the whole host had to pause, and, with uplifted right hand in the murk of night, to these pouring skies, swear solemnly to respect the king’s dwelling, to be faithful to king and National Assembly. Rage is driven down out of sight by the laggard march; the thirst of vengeance slaked in weariness and soaking clothes. Flandre is again drawn out under arms; but Flandre grown so patriotic, now needs no ‘exterminating.’ The wayworn battalions halt in the Avenue; they have, for the present, no wish so pressing as that of shelter and rest.

“Anxious sits President Mounier; anxious the Château. There is a message coming from the Château, that M. Mounier would please to return thither with a fresh deputation swiftly, and so at least unite our two anxieties. Anxious Mounier does of himself send, meanwhile, to appraise the general that his Majesty has been so gracious as to grant us the acceptance pure and simple. The general, with a small advance column, makes answer in passing, speaks vaguely some smooth words to the National President, glances only with the eye at that so mixtiform National Assembly, then fares forward towards the Château. There are with him two Paris Municipals; they were chosen from the three hundred for that errand. He gets admittance through the locked and padlocked gates, through sentries and ushers, to the royal halls.

“The court, male and female, crowds on his passage to read their doom on his face, which exhibits, say historians, a ‘mixture of sorrow, of fervor and valor,’ singular to behold. The king, with Monsieur, with ministers and marshals, is waiting to receive him. He ‘is come,’ in his highflown chivalrous way, ‘to offer his head for the safety of his Majesty’s.’ The two Municipals state the wish of Paris; four things of quite pacific tenor. First, that the honor of guarding his sacred person be conferred on patriot National Guards, say the Centre Grenadiers, who as Gardes Françaises were wont to have that privilege. Second, that provisions be got if possible. Third, that the prisons, all crowded with political delinquents, may have judges sent them. Fourth, that it would please his Majesty to come and live in Paris. To all which four wishes, except the fourth, his Majesty answers readily Yes; or indeed may almost say that he has already answered it. To the fourth he can answer only Yes or No, would so gladly answer Yes and No! But in any case, are not their dispositions, thank Heaven, so entirely pacific? There is time for deliberation. The brunt of the danger seems past.

“La Fayette and D’Estaing settle the watches; Centre Grenadiers are to take the guard-room, they of old occupied as Gardes Françaises; for indeed the Gardes-de-Corps, its late ill-advised occupants, are gone mostly to Rambouillet. That is the order of this night; sufficient for the night is the evil thereof. Whereupon La Fayette and the two Municipals, with highflown chivalry take their leave.

“So brief has the interview been, Mounier and his deputation were not yet got up. So brief and satisfactory, a stone is rolled from every heart. The fair palace dames publicly declare that this La Fayette, detestable though he be, is their saviour for once. Even the ancient vinaigrous Tantes admit it; the king’s aunts, ancient Graille and Sisterhood, known to us of old. Queen Marie Antoinette has been heard often to say the like.

“Towards three in the morning all things are settled; the watches set, the Centre Grenadiers put into their old guard-room, and harangued; the Swiss and few remaining body-guard harangued. The wayworn Paris battalions, consigned to the hospitality of Versailles, lie dormant in spare beds, spare barracks, coffee-houses, empty churches.

“The troublous day has brawled itself to rest; no lives yet lost but that of one war-horse. Insurrectionary Chaos lies slumbering round the palace like ocean round a diving-bell,—no crevice yet disclosing itself. Deep sleep has fallen promiscuously on the high and on the low, suspending most things, even wrath and famine. Darkness covers the earth. But, far on the northeast, Paris flings up her great yellow gleam far into the wet, black night. For all is illuminated there, as in the old July nights; the streets deserted, for alarm of war; the municipals all wakeful; patrols hailing with their hoarse Who goes?

“La Fayette, in the Hôtel[Hôtel] de Nôailles, not far from the Château, having now finished haranguing, sits with his officers, consulting. At five o’clock the unanimous best counsel is, that a man so tossed and toiled for twenty-four hours and more, fling himself on a bed and seek some rest....

“The dull dawn of a new morning, drizzly and chill, had but broken over Versailles. Rascality is in the Grand Court.... Barricading serves not; fly fast, ye body-guards: rabid Insurrection, like the hell-bound chase, uproaring at your heels.... ‘Save the Queen!’ Tremble not, women, but haste, for, lo! another voice shouts far through the outermost door, ‘Save the Queen!’ It is brave Miomandre’s voice that shouts this second warning. He has stormed across imminent death to do it; fronts imminent death, having done it....

“Trembling maids-of-honor hastily wrap the queen, not in robes of state. She flies for her life across the Œil-de-Bœuf, against the main door of which, too, Insurrection batters. She is in the king’s apartment, in the king’s arms; she clasps her children amid a faithful few. The imperial-hearted bursts into mother’s tears: ‘O my friends, save me and my children’ (O mes amis, sauvez-moi et mes enfants!). The battering of insurrectionary axes clangs audible across the Œil-de-Bœuf. What an hour!...

“Now, too, La Fayette, suddenly aroused, not from sleep (for his eyes had not yet closed), arrives, with passionate eloquence, with prompt military word of command. National Guards, suddenly roused by sound of trumpet and alarm drum, are all arriving. The death-melly ceases; the first sky-lambent blaze of insurrection is got damped down; it burns now, if unextinguished, yet flameless, as charred coals do, and not extinguishable. The king’s apartments are safe. Ministers, officials, and even some loyal national deputies are assembling round their Majesties. Now, too, is witnessed the touching last flicker of etiquette, which sinks not here in the Cimmerian world-wreckage without a sign! as the house cricket might still chirp in the pealing of a trump of doom. ‘Monsieur,’ said some master of ceremonies, as La Fayette, in these fearful moments, was rushing towards the inner royal apartments, ‘Monsieur, le roi vous accorde[accorde] les grandes entrees’ (Monsieur, the king grants you the grand entries)—not finding it convenient to refuse them.

“However, the Paris National Guard, wholly under arms, has cleared the Palace, and even occupies the nearer external spaces, extruding miscellaneous patriotism, for the most part, into the grand court, or even into the forecourt. The body-guards, you can observe, have now of a verity hoisted the national cockade, for they step forward to the windows or balconies, hat aloft in hand, on each hat a huge tricolor, and fling over their bandoleers in sign of surrender, and shout, Vive la nation! To which how can the generous heart respond but with, Vive le roi! vivent les gardes-du-corps! His Majesty himself has appeared with La Fayette on the balcony, and again appears. Vive le roi! greets him. Her Majesty, too, on demand, shows herself, though there is peril in it. ‘Should I die,’ she said, ‘I will do it.’ She stands there alone, her hands serenely crossed on her breast. Such serenity of heroism has its effect. La Fayette, with ready wit, in his highflown, chivalrous way, takes that fair, queenly hand and, reverently kneeling, kisses it; thereupon the people do shout, Vive la reine!

“So that all, and the queen herself, nay, the very captain of the body-guards, have grown national! The very captain of the body-guards steps out now with La Fayette. On the hat of the repentant man is an enormous tricolor, large as a soup platter or sunflower, visible to the utmost forecourt. He takes the national oath with a loud voice, elevating his hat; at which sight all the army raise their bonnets on their bayonets, with shouts. Sweet is reconciliation to the heart of man. La Fayette has sworn Flandre; he swears the remaining body-guards down in the Marble Court; the people clasp them in their arms: O my brothers, why would ye force us to slay you? Behold, there is joy over you, as over returning prodigal sons! The poor body-guards, now national and tricolor, exchange bonnets, exchange arms; there shall be peace and fraternity. And still, ‘Vive le roi!’ and also, ‘Le roi à Paris!’

THE KING COMES TO THE HÔTEL DE VILLE.

“Yes, the king to Paris; what else? Ministers may consult, and national deputies wag their heads; but there is now no other possibility. You have forced him to go willingly. ‘At one o’clock!’ La Fayette gives audible assurance to that purpose; and universal insurrection, with immeasurable shout and a discharge of all the firearms, clear and rusty, great and small, that it has, returns him acceptance. What a sound! heard for leagues! a doom-peal! That sound, too, rolls away into the silence of ages. And the Château of Versailles stands ever since vacant, hushed, still, its spacious courts grass grown, responsive to the hoe of the weeder. Times and generations roll on, in their confused gulf-current, and buildings, like builders, have their destiny.”

CHAPTER VI.

The King and Queen in Paris—La Fayette’s Letter to Washington—Presents him with the Key of the Bastile—The Constitution growing under the Hands of the Assembly—The Memorable 14th of July—Grand Festival of Federation in the Champ de Mars—Taking the Oath—Carlyle’s Description—La Fayette the Cynosure of All Eyes—He declines to accept Permanent Command—Farewell Words of the Deputies of the National Guard—Vacillating Paris and Vacillating Louis—La Fayette’s Letter to Washington—La Fayette’s Efforts in Defence of King and Constitution—The Queen gives Audience to the Marquis—The Flight of Royalty—La Fayette’s Danger—His Unflinching Courage—He declines the Throne—Royalty captured—La Fayette the Real Head of the Government—Supremacy of the Jacobins—Mob in the Champ de Mars—Louis accepts the Constitution—Resignation of La Fayette—War declared—La Fayette resumes Command—His Stirring Proclamation to his Soldiers—Letters to Washington—Plots of La Fayette’s Enemies—His Fearless Letter to the Assembly—Mob at the Tuileries—La Fayette appears in Paris—His Jacobin Foes—Blind Prejudice of the King and Queen—His Efforts in their Behalf ungratefully refused—The Reign of Terror—Decree of Accusation—La Fayette’s Forced Flight—His Letter to his Wife—Taken Prisoner by the Austrians—La Fayette and his Fellow-Prisoners given over to the Prussians—His Loathsome Dungeon—Transferred to Olmütz—Further Tortures—Attempt at Escape.

“License they mean when they cry liberty.”—Milton.

THE outburst for the time being is quelled. The king and queen have been brought by the surging mob to the gates of their royal residence in Paris. As they enter the portals, the mob cries, “Now we will have bread! we have with us the baker, and the baker’s wife, and the baker’s son!” and poor Louis falsely imagines that peace has come.

As the year of 1790 dawned, La Fayette hoped that the light of liberty was rising. He realized that France was not ready yet for a republic, but a constitutional monarchy might unite king and people.

In March, 1790, La Fayette writes thus to Washington:—

“My dear General: I have learned with much pain that you have not received any of my letters. I hope, however, that you have not suspected me of being guilty of negligence.

“It is difficult in the midst of our troubles to be informed in time of good occasions; but this time it is by M. Cayne, who departs for London, that I confide the care of making known to you news concerning me.

“Our revolution proceeds on its march as well as it is possible with a nation who receives all at once its liberties, and is therefore liable to confound them with license. The Assembly has more hatred against the ancient system than experience to organize the new constitutional government. The ministers regret their ancient power, and dare not avail themselves of that which they have; in short, as all which existed has been destroyed, and replaced by institutions still very incomplete, there is ample material for criticisms and calumnies.

“Add to this that we are attacked by two sets of enemies,—the aristocrats, who aspire to a counter-revolution, and the factions, who wish to destroy all authority, perhaps even to attempt the life of members of the royal family. These two parties foment these troubles.

“After having said all this, my dear General, I will say to you with the same frankness, that we have made admirable and almost incredible destruction of all abuses and all prejudices; all that which was not useful to a people, and all that pertained not to them, have been cut off, which, in consideration of the topographical situation, moral and political, of France, we have performed more changes in ten months than the most presumptuous patriots could have hoped for, and the reports of our anarchy and our internal troubles have been much exaggerated.

“After all, this revolution, where one only desires to find (as at one time in America) a little more energy in the government, will extend and establish liberty; it will be made to flourish in the whole world, and we can wait tranquilly through some years until a convention corrects the faults which could not be perceived at present by men scarcely escaped the yoke of aristocracy and despotism.

“You know that the Assembly has adjourned all discussion upon the West Indies, leaving all things in their natural state. The ports remain thus open to American commerce. It was impossible, under present circumstances, to take a definite resolution. The next legislature will form its decision according to the demands of the colonies, which have been invited to present them, and particularly regarding their subsistence.

“Permit me, my dear General, to offer you a painting representing the Bastile, such as it was some days after I had given the order to destroy it. I give to you also the principal key of that fortress of despotism. It is a tribute which I owe to you, as a son to my adopted father, as an aide-de-camp to my general, as a missionary of liberty to his patriarch.

“Adieu, my beloved General; offer my tender respects to Madame Washington; speak of my affectionate regard to George, Hamilton, Knox, Harrison, Humphrey,—all my friends. I am with tenderness and respect,

“Your affectionate and filial friend.”

KEY OF THE BASTILE.

But La Fayette’s fond hopes regarding the dawning of liberty in his cherished land were doomed to speedy and terrible disappointment.

The constitution was growing under the hands of the Assembly; the executive and legislative and judicial departments were carefully examined and established upon a better model. Vacillating Louis, assenting and dissenting to every proposition, was at length partially pledged to a freer constitution. Then came the 14th of July and the grand festival in the Champ de Mars. King, queen, and court, churchmen and soldiers, nuns and countesses, nobles and peasants, all were to participate in this national ceremony. Four days before the celebration the different deputations met in the Hotel de Ville to choose a president for the federation. La Fayette was hailed President by universal acclamation. He wished to decline the honor, but the Assembly refused to excuse him. And still another honor awaited him. By a special act of the Assembly the king had been appointed, for the day of the ceremony, supreme commander of the National Guard. This office he delegated to La Fayette, who thus became high constable of all the armed men in the kingdom.

On the 13th of July the Confederates, with La Fayette at their head, repaired to the National Assembly to pay their homage to the monarch and to that body. La Fayette thus addressed the members: “You well knew the necessities of France and the will of Frenchmen when you destroyed the gothic fabric of our government and laws, and respected only their monarchical principle; Europe then discovered that a good king could be the protector of a free, as he had been the ground of comfort to an oppressed, people. The rights of man are declared, the sovereignty of the people acknowledged, their power is representative, and the bases of public order are established. Hasten, then, to give energy to the power of the state. The people owe to you the glory of a new constitution, but they require and expect that peace and tranquillity which cannot exist without a firm and effectual organization of the government. We, gentlemen, devoted to the revolution and united in the name of liberty, the guarantees alike of individual and common rights and safety,—we, called by the most imperative duty from all parts of the kingdom, founding our confidence on your wisdom and our hopes on your services,—we will bear without hesitation to the altar of the country the oath which you may dictate to its soldiers. Yes, gentlemen, our arms shall be stretched forth together, and, at the same instant, our brothers from all parts of France shall utter the oath which will unite them together. May the solemnity of that great day be the signal of the conciliation of parties, of the oblivion of resentments, and of the establishment of public peace and happiness. And fear not that this holy enthusiasm will hurry us beyond the proper and prescribed limits of public order. Under the protection of the law, the standard of liberty shall never become the rallying point of license and disorder. Gentlemen, we swear to you to respect the law which it is our duty to defend, swear by our honor as free men, and Frenchmen do not promise in vain.”

To King Louis, La Fayette then addressed these loyal words: “Sire, in the course of those memorable events which have restored to the nation its imprescriptible rights, and during which the energy of the people and the virtues of their king have produced such illustrious examples for the contemplation of the world, we love to hail, in the person of your Majesty, the most illustrious of all titles,—chief of the French, and king of a free people. Enjoy, Sire, the recompense of your virtues, and let that pure homage which despotism could not command be the glory and reward of a citizen-king. The National Guards of France swear to your Majesty an obedience which shall know no other limits than those of the law, and a love which shall only terminate with their existence.”

Let Carlyle again describe the scene on that memorable 14th of July.

“In spite of plotting aristocrats, lazy, hired spademen, and almost of destiny itself, for there had been much rain, the Champ de Mars is fairly ready. The morning comes, cold for a July one; but such a festival would make Greenland smile. Through every inlet of that national amphitheatre—for it is a league in circuit, cut with openings at due intervals—floods in the living throng, covering without tumult, space after space. Two hundred thousand patriotic men, and, twice as good, one hundred thousand patriotic women, all decked and glorified, as one can fancy, sit waiting in the Champ de Mars.

“What a picture, that circle of bright-dyed life, spread up there on its thirty-seated slope, leaning, one would say, on the thick umbrage of those avenue trees, for the stems of them are hidden by the height; and all beyond it mere greenness of the summer earth, with the gleam of waters, or white sparklings of stone edifices. On remotest steeple and invisible village belfry stand men with spy-glasses. On the heights of Chaillot are many-colored, undulating groups. Round, and far on, over all the circling heights that embosom Paris it is as one more or less peopled amphitheatre, which the eye grows dim with measuring. Nay; heights have cannon, and a floating battery of cannon is on the Seine. When eye fails, ear shall serve. And all France, properly, is but one amphitheatre; for in paved town and unpaved hamlet men walk, listening, till the muffled thunder sounds audibly on their horizon, that they, too, may begin swearing and firing.

“But now to streams of music come confederates enough, for they have assembled on the Boulevard St. Antoine, and come marching through the city with their eighty-three department banners and blessings, not loud but deep; comes National Assembly, and takes seat under its canopy; comes Royalty, and takes seat on a throne beside it; and La Fayette, on a white charger, is here, and all the civic functionaries; and the confederates form dances till their strictly military evolutions and manœuvres can begin.

“Task not the pen of mortal to describe them; truant imagination droops, declares that it is not worth while. There is wheeling and sweeping to slow, to quick, to double-quick time. Sieur Motier, or Generalissimo La Fayette—for they are one and the same, and he, as general of France in the king’s stead, for twenty-four hours—must step forth with that sublime, chivalrous gait of his, solemnly ascend the steps of Fatherland’s altar, in sight of heaven and of scarcely breathing earth, and pronounce the oath: to king, to law, to nation, in his own name and that of armed France; whereat there is waving of banners and sufficient acclaim.

GRAND FESTIVAL IN THE CHAMPS DE MARS.

“The National Assembly must swear, standing in its place; the king himself, audibly. The king swears; and now be the welkin split with vivats; let citizens, enfranchised, embrace; armed confederates clang their arms; and, above all, let that floating battery speak. It has spoken, to the four corners of France! From eminence to eminence bursts the thunder, faint heard, loud repeated. From Arras to Avignon, from Metz to Bayonne, over Orleans and Blois, it rolls in cannon recitative. Puy bellows of it amid his granite mountains; Pau, where is the shell cradle of great Henri. At far Marseilles, one can think the ruddy evening witnesses it; over the deep blue Mediterranean waters, the castle of If, ruddy-tinted, darts forth from every cannon’s mouth its tongue of fire; and all the people shout, ‘Yes, France is free!’ Glorious France, that has burst out so into universal sound and smoke, and attained the Phrygian cap of Liberty.”

It is not king, or queen, but La Fayette, who is this day the cynosure of all eyes, as he ascends the altar and takes the prescribed oath. His noble nature is neither paralyzed by difficulties nor weakened by popular applause. For the people’s love he is grateful, but to gain that approbation he would not relinquish one iota of his principle. Neither does any rank or power tempt him to seek his personal aggrandizement. When urged by the deputation at this time, that he should accept the permanent command of the military force of the realm he unselfishly refused, accompanying his declination with these disinterested words:—

“Let not ambition take possession of you; love the friends of the people, but reserve blind submission for the law, and enthusiasm for liberty. Pardon this advice, gentlemen; you have given me the glorious right to offer it, when, by loading me with every species of favor which one of your brothers could receive from you, my heart, amidst its delightful emotions, cannot repress a feeling of fear.”

That the confederates fully appreciated the noble motives which actuated his decision in this matter is revealed by their farewell words to him:—

“The deputies of the National Guard of France retire with the regret of not being able to nominate you their chief. They respect the constitutional law, though it checks, at this moment, the impulse of their hearts. A circumstance which must cover you with immortal glory is, that you, yourself, promoted the law; that you, yourself, prescribed bounds to our gratitude.”

Paris and Louis were too vacillating and unstable to allow any permanent peace, or permit France to enjoy any prolonged prosperity. Before the 1st of August the solemn oath which had been taken on the Champ de Mars was forgotten by both king and people. The same contentions were again fanning the flames of a still more ominous conflagration.

On the 26th of August, 1790, La Fayette thus writes to General Washington:—

“We are disturbed with revolts among the regiments; and, as I am constantly attacked on both sides by the aristocratic and the factious parties, I do not know to which of the two we owe these insurrections. Our safeguard against them is the National Guard. There are more than a million of armed citizens, among them patriotic legions, and my influence with them is as great as if I had accepted the chief command. I have lately lost some of my favor with the mob, and displeased the frantic lovers of licentiousness, as I am bent on establishing a legal subordination. But the nation at large is very thankful to me for it. It is not out of the heads of aristocrats to make a counter-revolution. Nay, they do what they can with all the crowned heads of Europe, who hate us. But I think their plans will either be abandoned or unsuccessful. I am rather more concerned at a division that rages in the popular party. The club of the Jacobins and that of ’89, as it is called, have divided the friends of liberty, who accuse each other; the Jacobins being taxed with a disorderly extravagance, and ’89 with a tincture of ministerialism and ambition. I am endeavoring to bring about a reconciliation.”

“To defend the king and the constitution” was La Fayette’s unswerving purpose. There had been a time when he had hoped that France might become a republic like the United States; but as he carefully watched successive events he became convinced that the nation was not prepared for such a change, and henceforth he decided in favor of a constitutional and limited monarchy; and notwithstanding the king’s exasperating blindness, in regarding La Fayette as his enemy rather than his defender, and the queen’s open enmity, La Fayette enacted faithfully and consistently the double and difficult rôle of upholding the rights of royalty at the same time that he was defending the sacred rights of the people.

Madame Campan says in her “Memoirs of Marie Antoinette”:—

“The queen gave frequent audiences to M. de La Fayette. One day, when he was in her inner closet, his aides-de-camp, who waited for him, were walking up and down the great room where the persons in attendance remained. Some imprudent young women were thoughtless enough to say, with the intention of being overheard by those officers, that it was very alarming to see the queen alone with a rebel and a brigand. I was hurt at such indiscretion, which always produced bad effects, and I imposed silence on them. One of them persisted in the appellation brigand. I told her that, as to rebel, M. de La Fayette well deserved the name, but that the title of leader of a party was given by history to every man commanding forty thousand men, a capital, and forty leagues of country; that kings had frequently treated with such leaders, and if it was convenient to the queen to do the same, it remained only for us to be silent and respect her actions. On the morrow the queen, with a serious air, but with the greatest kindness, asked what I had said respecting M. de La Fayette on the preceding day, adding that she had been assured I had enjoined her women silence, because they did not like him, and that I had taken his part. I repeated to the Queen what had passed, word for word. She condescended to tell me that I had done perfectly right.”

As La Fayette was the commander of the National Guard, and as Louis and Marie Antoinette had been brought forcibly to Paris, and were in some sense under the surveillance of La Fayette and his Guard, they were unable to perceive that he was their best friend, and they at length determined to fly from their enforced restraint in Paris. The plan was made and executed.

“And so the royalty of France is actually fled? This precious night, the shortest of the year, it flies and drives! But in Paris, at six in the morning, when some patriot deputy, warned by a billet, awoke La Fayette and they went to the Tuileries? Imagination may paint, but words cannot, the surprise of La Fayette, or with what bewilderment helpless Gouvion rolled glassy Argus’ eyes, discerning now that his false chambermaid had told true!”

A new danger now assailed La Fayette. The infuriated mob, apprised that the king had escaped, laid the blame upon his keeper. “Down with La Fayette!” “Away with the traitor!” are the cries which meet his ear, as he boldly faces the vast throngs of excited Parisians who crowd around the Hôtel de Ville. With folded arms and calm dignity, he stood before the riotous mob. With unflinching courage he surveyed that surging mass in silence for a moment; then, when he spoke, it was neither to excuse nor defend himself. His thoughts, as ever, were not for himself; only for the interests of the people. Casting his piercing glance over the multitude he exclaimed, in clarion tones, in which there was no quavering of fear or hesitation in their clear ring:—

“If you call this event a misfortune, what name would you give to a counter-revolution, which would deprive you of your liberty?”

Filled with admiration for his courage, and inspired with the emotion of applause, which, in the fickle fancy of the French so quickly follows its opposite, wrath, the vast multitude rent the air with one deafening shout: “Let us make La Fayette our king!”

But the loyal Knight of Liberty instantly replied, with stern disapprobation:—

“I thought that you professed a better opinion of me. What have I done that you do not believe me fit for something better?”

And the admiring people, recognizing his magnanimous unselfishness, shouted with wild enthusiasm:—

“LONG LIVE THE GENERAL!”

Meanwhile, in the National Assembly, it was announced that La Fayette was in danger from the mob, at the Hôtel de Ville. A deputation was sent to him, offering an escort, to protect him from the violence of the people. To whom La Fayette courteously replied: “I will order an escort for you, as a mark of respect; but, for myself, I shall return alone. I have never been in more perfect safety than at this moment, though the streets are filled with the people.”

Prompt means were taken for the arrest of the royal fugitives.

“By first or by second principles, much is promptly decided: ministers are sent for; instructed how to continue their functions; La Fayette is examined, and Gouvion, who gives a most helpless account—the best he can.... La Fayette’s aide-de-camp, Romœuf, riding à franc etrier, on that old herb-merchant’s route, quickened during the last stages, has got to Varennes, where the ten thousand now furiously demand, with fury of panic terror, that royalty shall forthwith return Paris-ward, that there be not infinite bloodshed.... So then our grand royalist plot, of flight to Metz, has executed itself. On Monday night royalty went; on Saturday evening it returns; so much, within one short week, has royalty accomplished for itself.”

A decree was passed by the Assembly, suspending Louis from his kingly functions, as it was contended that by his flight he had voluntarily abdicated the throne; and a guard was placed over the king, queen, and Dauphin.

La Fayette, as commander-in-chief of the National Guards, was in reality the head of the government in France. Though Louis was his captive, he endeavored by every attention of respect to make him feel his restraint as little as possible.

The Jacobins had now gained the supremacy in France. They contended that the people should elect a ruler instead of Louis, whom they declared had relinquished his rights. The Assembly were not yet prepared for this step, and they resolved to restore Louis to power.

A decree was therefore issued by the Assembly, removing the ban from Louis, and declaring that he was not culpable for his recent journey. This decree raised a storm of opposition. The day after the bill was passed, a vast mob assembled in the Champ de Mars, to protest against this unpopular measure.

Quickly the crowd raised a riotous tumult, and again La Fayette, the Patriot, stood in their midst. But this time his voice could not be heard on account of their wild clamors, which filled the air and were echoed from surrounding streets. When his words of command were partially understood, their frenzy had reached too high a pitch to be quelled; threats were muttered against him, and even a musket was fired at his breast. But his fearless spirit was resolved to put down this dangerous insurrection, and he was determined not to leave the spot until his efforts had been successful. By his nerve, and quick plans as speedily executed, the rioters were at length forced to give way, but not until blood had been shed, for which his enemies called him to an account.

Appreciating the necessity for a firmer government, the Assembly completed its constitution, and it was submitted to Louis for his acceptance. Poor vacillating Louis was ill-pleased with this same constitution, but the past had taught him that it was safest to submit; and thereupon he repaired to the Assembly and accepted the constitution, and on the 30th of September it was declared that the Constituent Assembly had terminated its sittings. This Assembly had been in existence three years, and had enacted 1309 laws and decrees.

A few days afterwards La Fayette resigned his office as commander-in-chief of the National Guard, deeming that his country no longer required his public services, and desiring intensely to retire to his private estates and enjoy the delights of a quiet life. He sent the following letter to his late comrades in arms:—

“To serve you until this day, gentlemen, was a duty imposed upon me by the sentiments which have animated my whole life. To resign now, without reserve, to my country, all the power and influence she gave me for the purpose of defending her during recent convulsions,—is a duty which I owe to my well-known resolutions, and it amply satisfies the only sort of ambition I possess.”

The Guard could not part with him without renewed expressions of admiration for their idol. Finding that they could not move him, by their persuasions, to withdraw his resignation, they forged a sword from the bolts of the Bastile, and presented it to him, with profound marks of their esteem and affection. The municipality of Paris voted him a medal, and ordered a complimentary inscription to be placed upon the bust of La Fayette, which had been presented by Virginia to the city of Paris twelve years before.

“Now that his Majesty has accepted the constitution, to the sound of cannon-salvoes, who would not hope? La Fayette has moved for an amnesty, for universal forgiving and forgetting of revolutionary faults; and now surely the glorious revolution, cleared of its rubbish, is complete.... Welcome, surely, to all right hearts, is La Fayette’s chivalrous amnesty. The National Constituent Assembly declares that it has finished its mission; so, amid glitter of illuminated streets and Champs Elysées, and crackle of fireworks, and glad deray, has the first National Assembly vanished.... La Fayette, for his part, will lay down the command. He retires, Cincinnatus-like, to his hearth and farm, but soon leaves them again.”

THE KING ACCEPTING THE CONSTITUTION.

But the king and court seem blindly destined to bring about their own destruction. The Royalists, far from distinguishing between such men as La Fayette, Robespierre, and Pétion, strengthened the hands of the two last, thinking by those means to weaken the former. The court, incited by the queen, treated La Fayette with a blindfold hatred, by opposing Pétion to him at every turn. When the honest, well-meaning soldier was about to be elected mayor of Paris, Marie Antoinette, through her machinations, caused the nomination of Pétion, who employed his exalted position in overturning the throne and the constitution. But not only was France at the mercy of the factions within, but foreign hosts threatened them without.

La Fayette’s quiet life of repose was soon disturbed. Startling rumors reached Paris that a large army was preparing for an invasion. Quick to respond to his country’s call, La Fayette relinquished his coveted delights of rest and reunion with his family, and accepted the command of one of the three armies which France was raising to meet the advancing foe.

At this time La Fayette issued the following stirring proclamation to his army:—

“Soldiers of our Country!

“The legislative corps and the king, in the name of the French people, have declared war. Since the country, by constitutional means and by her will, calls us to defend her, what citizen can refuse to her his arm?

“At this moment, when we leaders take again the oath which was pronounced by the nation and army upon the altar of the Federation, I come to explain my intentions, and to recall to you my principles.

“Convinced by the experience of a life devoted to Liberty, that she can only be preserved in the midst of citizens submissive to the laws, as she can only be defended by disciplined troops, I have served the people without cajoling them, and in my constant struggle against license and anarchy I have incurred the honorable hatred of the ambitious, and of all factions.

“To-day that the army awaits me, it is not with a pernicious complaisance, but with an inflexible discipline, and with a rigorous fulfilment of duty, that I will justify the affection which they accord to me, and the esteem which they owe me.

“But since I control free men by the imperious will of a chief, it is necessary that we all feel—general, officers, and soldiers—that in this coming war it is a combat to the death between our principles and the pretensions of despots. We must work for the rights of each citizen and the safety of all. We must work for the constitution which we have sworn by, and for the sacred cause of liberty and equality. In short, we must work for the National Sovereignty, by which only we shall be able to resist any such combination of force and danger as there may be; and without which, not only will the French people, but humanity itself, be betrayed.

“Soldiers of Liberty! it is not sufficient for merit to be brave; be patient, indefatigable. Your general ought to plan and order; you, to obey. Be generous! respect a disarmed enemy. Those troops which always grant quarter, and will never receive it, will be invincible. Let us be disinterested, so that the shameful idea of pillage will never soil the nobility of our motives. Let us be humane; it will make every one admire our sentiments and bless our laws.

“Resolve ye, with your general, that we shall see Liberty triumph, or that we shall not survive her.

“Soldiers of the Constitution! fear not that she ceases to watch you when you fight for her. Fear not when you go to defend your country, that these internal dissensions shall trouble your firesides. Without doubt the legislative corps and the king will intimately unite in the decisive moment to insure the empire and the law, every one, and their property will be respected. Civil and religious liberty will not be profaned; the peaceable citizen will be protected, whatever may be his opinions; the culpable will be punished, whatever may be his pretences.

“All parties will be dispelled, and the constitution alone will rule; and upon the rebels who have attacked with open voice, and upon the traitors, who have perverted it by their vile passions, will be meted out such judgment as shall make them fear it inwardly and respect it outwardly.

“Yes, we will have the reward of our labor and of our blood. Let us all attest with confidence,—both the representatives elected by the people who have sworn to transact only the duties of the constitution, as we its dangers; and the hereditary representative, the citizen-king, whom the constitution has firmly established upon the throne; and all the other depositories of authority to whom the constitution has delegated power,—let them all believe that the execution of that authority is a duty which the constitution has laid upon them, as obedience is demanded from those who must submit to them; and that any one transgresses the laws in not making them to be obeyed, as they were placed in office that the laws might be defended.

“Let us also affirm, all ye National Guard, that the constitution, newly born, shall find us united for its establishment, and that the constitution, in peril, will always find us ready to defend it; for patriotism renders even glorious the calumnies which we may have to endure in support of the constitution.

“As for us, furnished with the arms which liberty has consecrated, and with the declaration of rights, let us march towards our enemies!”

The central army was assigned to La Fayette, with his headquarters at Metz. War was declared against Austria on the 20th of April, and on the 24th La Fayette was ordered to collect his regiments and report at Metz by the 1st of May. This required such marvellous celerity that his enemies hoped he would fail to accomplish it, but on the appointed day La Fayette was at the post assigned, awaiting further orders. From his camp at Metz La Fayette wrote thus to Washington:—

“This is a very different date from that which had announced to you my return to the sweets of private life, a situation hitherto not very familiar to me, but which, after fifteen revolutionary years, I had become quite fit to enjoy. I have given you an account of the quiet and rural mode of living I had adopted in the mountains where I was born, having there a good house and a late manor, now unlorded into a large farm, with an English overseer for my instruction. For as I have relinquished my title of nobility, I manage my estate as a simple country gentleman. I felt myself very happy among my neighbors, no more vassals to me nor anybody, and had given to my wife and rising family the only quiet weeks they had enjoyed for a long time, when the threats and mad preparations of the refugees, and, still more, the countenance they had obtained in the dominions of our neighbors, induced the National Assembly and the king to adopt a more rigorous system than had hitherto been the case.

“I had declined every public employment that had been offered by the people, and, still more, had I refused consent to my being appointed to any military command; but when I saw our liberties and constitution were seriously threatened, and my services could be usefully employed in fighting for our old cause, I could no longer resist the wishes of my countrymen; and as soon as the king’s express reached my farm, I set out for Paris; from thence to this place; and I do not think it uninteresting to you, my dear General, to add, that I was everywhere on the road affectionately welcomed.”

Again La Fayette writes to Washington, in March, 1792, from Paris, whither he had been recalled from Metz by political affairs:—

“My dear General: I have been called from the army to the capital for a conference between two other generals, the ministers, and myself; and I am at present about to return to my post. The coalition of the continental powers concerning that which touches our affairs, is certain, and will not be broken by the death of the Emperor Leopold II. But as regards the preparations for their continental war, it is yet doubtful whether our neighbors will dare approach in order to extinguish a flame so contagious as that of liberty.

“The danger for us is in the state of anarchy which arises from the ignorance of the people, from the immense numbers of non-proprietors, and from the habitual mistrust regarding every kind of measure of the government. The difficulties are augmented by the discontents and the distinguished aristocrats, because these two parties unite in counteracting our ideas of public order.

“Do not believe, however, my dear General, the exaggerated accounts which you will receive, especially those which come from England. Liberty and equality will be preserved in France, that is certain; but if they succumb, you may know well that I will not have survived them. Yon can be assured, however, that we go forth to meet this painful present situation, by an honorable defence, and for the amelioration of our internal affairs.

“We have not had time to prove just at what point our constitution can bring to us a good government. We know only that it is established upon the rights of the people, destroys nearly all abuses, changes French vassalage into national dignity; in short, it renders to men the enjoyment of their faculties, which nature has given to them, and which society assures to them.

“Permit me, my dear General, to present to you alone an observation upon the last choice of an American ambassador. I am a personal friend of Gouverneur Morris, and I have always been, as an individual, content with him; but the aristocratic principles, and even counter-revolutionary ones which he has professed, render him scarcely the proper person to represent the only nation of which the government resembles ours, since both of them are founded upon the plan of a democratic representation. I will add, that as France finds herself surrounded by enemies, it would seem that America ought to desire to conform herself to the changes in our government.

“I speak not only of those which democratic principles can hasten and introduce, but of those new projects of the aristocracy, such as the re-establishment of a nobility, the creation of a chamber of peers, and other political blasphemies of that kind, which, so far as we are able, we shall not have realized in France.

“I have desired that we should establish an elective senate, a more independent judiciary corps, and a more energetic administration; but it is necessary that the people should be taught to know the advantages of a firm government before knowing how to reconcile it with their ideas of liberty, and to distinguish it from those arbitrary systems which it has overthrown.

“You see, my dear General, I am not an enthusiast regarding all the clauses of our constitution, though I love those principles which resemble those of the United States; as to the exception of an hereditary president of executive power, I believe it conforms to our circumstances at present.

“But I hate all that resembles despotism and the aristocracy, and I cannot relinquish the desire that these principles, American and French, should be in the heart and upon the lips of the ambassador of the United States in France. I make these reflections in case only that some arrangements conformable to the wishes of Gouverneur Morris can in the sequel be made.

“Permit me to add here the tribute of praise which I owe to M. Short for the sentiments which he has expressed, and for all the esteem which he has inspired in this country, I desire that you should personally recognize it.

“There are changes in the ministry preparing. The king has chosen his council from the most violent portion of the popular party, that is to say, from the club of the Jacobins, a kind of Jesuitical institution more likely to make deserters from our cause than to attract to us followers. These new ministers, however, are not suspected of being able to have a chance of re-establishing order. They discuss that which they should apply to themselves. The Assembly is little enlightened; they value too highly popular applause. The king in his daily conduct from time to time acts very well. After all, the thing will go on, and the success of the revolution cannot be placed in doubt.

“My command extends upon the frontiers from Givet to Bitche. I have sixty thousand men, and this number will be increased by young men who will come from all parts of the empire to complete the regiments. The voluntary recruits are animated by a spirit most patriotic. I go to make an entrenched camp with thirty thousand men, and with a detached corps of four to five thousand; the remainder of the troops will occupy strong places. The armies of the Maréchaux Luckner and Rochambeau are inferior to mine, because we have sent several regiments south; but in case of war we can gather respectable forces.

“If we have yet some reasons for discontent, we can, however, hope to attain our just cause. License, under the mask of patriotism, is our greatest evil, because it menaces property, tranquillity, and even liberty.

“Adieu, my dear General; think sometimes of your respectful, tender, and filial friend.”

But La Fayette’s confidence in his countrymen was repaid by ingratitude; and he was yet to learn that few men were actuated by his unselfish loyalty and stern integrity.

THE MOB INVADE THE TUILERIES.

His enemies now plotted his ruin. A treacherous plan was laid to draw off his expected re-enforcements, so that when he reached Givet, he would find himself at the mercy of the advancing foe. This disgraceful scheme was put into execution, and La Fayette, finding himself exposed to overwhelming dangers, wisely retreated to his former post to await further developments. But soon the direful rumors from Paris filled his patriotic heart with more painful concern than his own perilous position. “Would that he had trusted me!” exclaimed magnanimous La Fayette, as courier after courier brought news of the woes thickening around the helpless, weak king. In a letter to the Assembly, La Fayette boldly declared war against the defiant Jacobins, who were fast clutching the reins of government, or, rather, planning a counter-revolution, which should give up the city and the nation to the diabolical power of a wild anarchy and unbridled license. It was this memorable letter in which he said: “Can you dissemble even to yourselves that a faction—and to avoid all vague demonstrations, the Jacobin faction—have caused all these disorders? It is that society which I boldly denounce; organized in its affiliated societies like a separate empire in the metropolis, and blindly governed by some ambitious leaders, this society forms a totally distinct corporation in the midst of the French nation, whose power it usurps by tyrannizing over its representatives and constituted authorities. Let the royal authority be untouched, for it is guaranteed by the constitution; let it be independent, for its independence is one of the springs of our liberty; let the king be revered, for he is invested with the majesty of the nation; let him choose a ministry which wears the chain of no faction; and if traitors exist, let them perish under the sword of the law.”

No other man in France would have dared to write such a letter; and this brave letter lost him his popularity, for the masses were imbued with the influence of the Jacobins. This party now took an oath to destroy the fearless marquis who had thus laid bare their base designs. They harangued the mob, and persuaded them to believe that Louis and La Fayette were leagued against them. It required little to inflame the excited people. Twenty thousand men from the lowest ranks paraded the streets, and with wild shouts of “Down with the king! to the Tuileries!” they swept onward to the palace, and with yells of execration they trampled down the guard and burst into the very apartment of the king. Louis for once was roused and played the part of a man. His calmness awed the mob; and the Assembly sending a deputation to his relief, the multitude were persuaded to retire.

This news was wafted quickly to La Fayette; and on the 28th of June he appeared in Paris. He left the army, and came alone as a simple citizen, and, visiting the Assembly, he boldly met their charge against him, which was that he had made an attempt at dictation; and he was there to answer this slander, and to demand reparation for the indignity to which the king had been subjected. He ended his speech with the words, “Such are the representations submitted to the Assembly by a citizen whose love for liberty, at least, will not be disputed.”

But the Jacobin leaders had now the upper hand in the Assembly; and they declared him guilty of treason. And when the chivalrous and true-hearted La Fayette waited upon the king, for whom he had risked his reputation and his life, “he was insulted by the courtiers, coolly received by the king, and the queen expressly forbade any one to give him the slightest support. His efforts at rallying around him the National Guard, in order to march upon the Jacobins and make them prisoners, proved equally fruitless. He returned full of grief, but not utterly discouraged, to the army, whence he continued to offer his services to the king; but all his offers were rejected. ‘The best counsel I can give M. de La Fayette,’ answered the king, ‘is to serve as a scarecrow to the factions in following his profession as a general.’”

PRINCESS ELIZABETH.

The Princess Elizabeth, more clear-sighted than Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, advised that the royal family should throw themselves with confidence into the protection of the only man who could save the king and deliver his family from the awful dangers which threatened them. But the imprudent queen is reported to have replied, “It is better to perish than to be saved by La Fayette and the Constitutionals.”

Thus was this noble-spirited man rewarded by those whom he had risked his life to try to save.

The awful Reign of Terror came remorselessly striding on in its resistless march of death. La Fayette made one more attempt to save the perverse and blinded king and queen. A plan was formed for removing the royal family from Paris, and placing them under the protection of the army of which La Fayette had command; but the haughty Marie Antoinette replied, “No; we have once owed our lives to La Fayette; but I should not wish it to be the case a second time.” Thus was their last chance of escape refused, and the Reign of Terror soon numbered them among its victims.

And the diabolical Reign of Terror also laid its ghastly hand upon the freedom of the Knight of Liberty, and against his illustrious name wrote this infamous “Decree of Accusation”:—

“National Assembly, Aug. 17, 1792.

“I. It appears to this Assembly that there is just ground for accusation against M. de La Fayette, heretofore commander of the army of the North.

“II. The executive power shall, in the most expeditious manner possible, carry the present decree into execution; and all constituted authorities, all citizens, and all soldiers are hereby enjoined, by every means in their power, to secure his person.

“III. The Assembly forbids the army of the North any longer to acknowledge him as a general, or to obey his orders; and strictly enjoins that no person whatsoever shall furnish anything to the troops, or pay any money for their use, but by the orders of M. Dumouriez.”

This decree was widely circulated throughout the army. Against such a hydra-headed demon of persecution it was useless to attempt to contend. La Fayette’s only safety lay in flight. For his king and his country he had sacrificed all that was dear to him in life; and this was his thankless reward.

At this time La Fayette thus wrote to his wife:—

“I make no apology to you or my children for having ruined my family; no one among you would wish to owe fortune to conduct contrary to my conscience.” Surely the actions of his heroic wife and brave children fully confirmed his exalted opinion of them.

After taking every necessary precaution for the safety of his army, La Fayette and his three friends, Messieurs Latour-Maubourg, Bureaux de Pusy, and Alexandre Lameth, with a little party of twenty-three exiles, departed from France and turned their faces towards the Netherlands. Reaching Rochefort, La Fayette and his friends endeavored to obtain passports. But La Fayette was quickly recognized, and the commandant instantly despatched a messenger to the Austrian general at Namur, with the startling intelligence that he held in safe-keeping the illustrious La Fayette, one of the bravest generals of France. The Austrian general, Moitelle, could scarcely credit this astounding piece of good fortune. “What!” exclaimed he, “La Fayette? La Fayette?” Turning to one officer, he cried, “Run instantly and inform the Duke of Bourbon of it”; to another the order was given, “Set out this moment and carry this news to his Royal Highness at Brussels”; and sending others here and there to spread the wonderful intelligence: before many hours the news had been despatched to half the princes and generals in Europe, that the illustrious La Fayette was a captive in the hands of the allies. The prisoners were conducted to Namur, then to Nivelles, and afterwards to Luxembourg, where an attempt was made to assassinate La Fayette by some of the French refugees. The Austrians finally decided that La Fayette and his three companions should be given over into the power of the Prussians. The captives were accordingly closely guarded and hurried to Wessel. Here they were separated and thrown into different cells. The many shameful indignities which they suffered and the hardships of their cruel prison life soon prostrated La Fayette, and he became dangerously ill, and for a time his life was despaired of. No mitigation of his confinement was, however, allowed him. Once the king of Prussia offered him aid if he would assist in the plans forming against France. La Fayette received this base message with indignant scorn, and bade the officer return and inform his master “that he was still La Fayette.”

The king, foiled in his attempt to weaken the stanch loyalty of the heroic marquis, who would not swerve one hair‘s-breadth from his conscientious principles, even for the longed-for boon of liberty, determined to wreak his mortified pride by inflicting further cruelties upon the helpless captives, whom, though he could not bribe to dishonor, he might still torture to death.

The monarch resolved to gratify his malignity by removing them to still more dismal and unhealthy dungeons. Whereupon, the prisoners were conducted to Magdebourg; and as they were thrown into the loathsome vaults of that prison, they were informed that they should never again behold the light of day. Here they existed, desolate and despairing, for a year. Frederic William occasionally sent to learn if their sufferings were sufficiently intense to satisfy his fiendish cruelty, and then devised new torments. La Fayette dared not send letters to his wife, fearing that his writing would be recognized, and accordingly addressed them to a friend in England, hoping that his family would in some manner receive them. He thus describes his situation:—

“Imagine an opening made under the rampart of the citadel, and surrounded with a strong high palisade; through this, after opening four doors, each armed with chains, bars, and padlocks, they come, not without some difficulty and noise, to my cell, three paces wide, five and a half long. The wall is mouldy on the side of the ditch, and the front one admits light, but not sunshine, through a little grated window. Add to this two sentinels, whose eyes penetrate into this lower region, but who are kept outside the palisade, lest they should speak; other watchers not belonging to the guard; and all the walls, ramparts, ditches, guards, within and without the citadel of Magdebourg, and you will think that the foreign powers neglect nothing to keep us within their dominions.

“The noisy opening of the four doors is repeated every morning to admit my servant; at dinner, that I may eat in the presence of the commandant of the citadel and of the guard; and at night, to take my servant to his prison. After having shut upon me all the doors, the commandant carries off the keys to the room where, since our arrival, the king has ordered him to sleep.

“I have books, the white leaves of which are taken out, but no news, no newspapers, no communications,—neither pen, ink, paper, nor pencil. It is a wonder that I possess this sheet, and I am writing with a toothpick. My health fails daily.... The account I have given you may serve for my companions, whose treatment is the same.”

At length, despairing of making La Fayette yield by any cruelties, however barbarous, the Prussian king, fearing that the peace which he was concluding with France would require the surrender of La Fayette, he determined to transfer him, with Maubourg and De Pusy, to the Austrians.

Olmütz was selected by their new jailers, and the prisoners were accordingly carried thither.

Though[Though] placed within the same castle, and occupying cells in the same corridor, the friends were as completely guarded against all intercourse with each other, and all knowledge of each other’s condition, as if an ocean or a continent separated them. As they entered their cells, it was declared to each of them, “that they would never come out of them alive; that they would never see anything but what was enclosed within the four walls of their respective cells; that they would hold no communication with the outer world, nor receive any kind of information of persons or things there; that their jailers were even prohibited from pronouncing their names; that in the prison reports and government despatches they would be referred to only by the number of their cells; that they would never be suffered to learn anything of the situation of their families, or even to know of each other’s existence; and that, as such a situation of hopeless confinement would naturally incite to suicide, knives and forks, and all other instruments by which they might do violence to themselves, would be thenceforth withheld from them.”

Such were Austria’s improvements upon the cruelties of Prussia.

In a dark and loathsome dungeon, the walls of which were twelve feet thick, and guarded by doors of wood and iron, covered with bolts and bars, the only air admitted into the cell coming through a loophole in the wall, beneath which was a ditch of stagnant water whose poisonous effluvium stifled the suffering victim on a bed of rotten straw filled with vermin, by the side of which stood a worm-eaten table and broken chair, lay the sick and tortured La Fayette, whose keen anxieties regarding the fate of his adored wife and children were added to the bodily torments which his enemies inflicted upon him. Again he became ill. His physician represented to the authorities that fresh air was absolutely necessary; three times the brutal answer was sent, “He is not yet sick enough.” At length, however, he was allowed a daily walk of a few moments under the eye of his jailer.

The news of the imprisonment of La Fayette had been received with profound sorrow throughout the world. Many efforts had been put forth in his behalf from time to time. While La Fayette was at Magdebourg, the American minister in France took upon himself the responsibility of directing the banker of the United States, at Hamburgh, to advance ten thousand florins, which were sent to La Fayette, and was the means of procuring for him many needed comforts. This act was afterwards ratified by Congress under the head of military compensation.

The imprisonment of his loyal and devoted young friend caused the warm heart of Washington the deepest anguish, but, as the president of a neutral nation, his public acts were governed by caution; though his personal influence as a man in behalf of his friend was strong in endeavoring to secure the release of the marquis. To Mr. Pinckney, then in Europe, he thus wrote:—

“I need hardly mention how much my sensibility has been hurt by the treatment this gentleman has met with, or how anxious I am to see him liberated therefrom; but what course to pursue as most likely and proper to aid the measure is not quite so easy to decide on. As President of the United States, there must not be a commitment of the government by any interference of mine; and it is no easy matter in a transaction of this nature for a public character to assume the garb of a private citizen in a case that does not relate to himself. Yet such is my wish to contribute my mite to accomplish that desirable object, that I have no objection to its being known to the imperial ambassador in London, who, if he think proper, may communicate it to his court, that this event is an ardent wish of the people of the United States, to which I sincerely add mine. The time, the manner, and even the measure itself, I leave to your discretion; as circumstances, and every matter which concerns this gentleman, are better known on that than they are on this side of the Atlantic.”

At length a young German physician, Dr. J. Erick Bollman, filled with admiration for the illustrious and persecuted La Fayette, although he had never seen him, nevertheless enthusiastically espoused his cause, and determined to attempt the liberation of the marquis. Meeting at Vienna Francis Kinlock Huger, the son of Colonel Huger, of South Carolina, at whose house La Fayette was first received when he landed in America, the two young men resolved to attempt at all risks to themselves his release[themselves his release]. They were so far successful, that by their aid La Fayette eluded his jailers, while out for exercise, and mounted a horse provided by his friends, and succeeded in reaching Sternberg, but was there again arrested and carried back to endure still greater tortures in his loathsome prison at Olmütz. His two devoted friends were also captured and obliged to suffer imprisonment for six months, as a punishment for their unselfish deed; while La Fayette was informed by his cruel tormentors that his zealous friends were to be executed for their attempt in his behalf.

CHAPTER VII.

Writings of Virginie La Fayette—Her Account of the Approach of the Revolution—Her Narrative of her Father’s Part in the Terrible Tragedy—Her Mother’s Anxieties—Dangers of the La Fayette Family—Arrest of Madame La Fayette—Her Heroic Courage—News of the Imprisonment of General La Fayette—Letter of Madame La Fayette to M. Roland—Madame La Fayette released on Parole—Her Letter to the King of Prussia—M. Roland secures Madame La Fayette’s Release from Parole—Madame La Fayette rearrested—Brave Conduct of her Daughter Anastasie—Madame La Fayette imprisoned at Brioude—Her Kind Attentions to her Fellow-prisoners—Her Jailer bribed to allow the Visits of her Children—The Arrest of Madame La Fayette’s Sister, Mother, and Grandmother—Madame La Fayette removed to Paris—Ineffectual Efforts in her Behalf—The Mother, Sister, and Grandmother of Madame La Fayette perish upon the Scaffold—Madame La Fayette’s Pathetic Description of their Dreadful Doom.

“Why, headstrong liberty is lash’d with woe,

There’s nothing situate under heaven’s eye,

But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in sky.”

—Shakespeare.

LEAVING La Fayette for a time in his gloomy prison at Olmütz, we will turn once again to the writings of Virginie La Fayette (Madame de Lasteyrie) for the home picture of La Fayette’s history during the memorable French Revolution. She says:—

“The Revolution had for a long time back been gradually approaching. The States-General were convoked and met in the month of May, 1789. After the 14th of July father was elected commander-in-chief of the National Guard of Paris. His whole existence was bound up with the events of that period. You may imagine the cruel anxiety in which my mother passed the three first years of the Revolution. She was free from all prejudice; besides, she had long shared my father’s principles, which would in any case have been her own; she approved, she admired his conduct; she was the partner of all his views, and was supported in the midst of her moral sufferings by the thought that he was working to obtain the triumph of right. The first misfortunes of the Revolution filled her soul with such bitterness that she was insensible to the natural feelings of amour-propre, which my father’s conduct would otherwise have called forth. Her only satisfaction was to see him often sacrifice his popularity to oppose any disorderly or arbitrary act. She had adopted liberal opinions, and professed them openly, but she possessed that feminine tact, the shades of which it would be impossible to delineate, and was thereby prevented from being what was then called a femme de parti. Her disposition led her not to fear the censure of certain coteries, but she shuddered when she thought of the incalculable consequences of the events which were taking place, and she was incessantly praying for the mercy of God, whilst she fulfilled all the requirements of her arduous life.

“She accepted the requests, which were made to her by each of the sixty districts of Paris, to collect subscriptions at the blessing of their banners and at other patriotic ceremonies. My father kept open house. She did the honors in a manner which charmed her numerous guests; but what she suffered in the depths of her heart can only be understood by those who have heard her talk of those times.

“She beheld my father at the head of a revolution, the issue of which it was impossible to foresee. Each calamity, each disturbance, was looked upon by her without the slightest illusion as to the success of her own cause. She was, however, supported by my father’s principles, and so convinced of the good it was in his power to do, and of the evil it was in his power to avert, that she bore with incredible fortitude the continual perils to which he was exposed. Never, has she often told us, did she see him leave the house during that period without thinking that she was bidding him adieu for the last time. Although no one could be more terrified than she was when those whom she loved were in danger, still, during that time she was superior to her usual self, devoted in common with my father to the hope of preventing crime.

“The various events of the Revolution, the dangers incurred by my father, the manner in which he supported every principle of justice and of liberty against all parties, form the history of my mother’s anxieties and consolations during two years and a half. You have read in the history of the Revolution that considerable uproar was raised on the Monday of Passion Week, 1791, to prevent the king from going to Saint Cloud, where he wished to receive the sacrament from the hands of priests who had not taken the oath to support the constitution. The king did not put this plan into execution, notwithstanding the endeavors of my father, who entreated Louis XVI. to persist in his intention, which he undertook to have executed. The king refused.

“My father, displeased with the National Guard, who had but feebly supported him in presence of the populace, and with the king’s weakness, which rendered it impossible to retrieve the faults committed on that day, thought fit to resign the command of the National Guard of Paris, and to avoid all entreaties, he quitted his own house. My mother remained at home, transported with joy at the resolution he had taken, and was charged by him to receive in his stead the municipality and the sixty battalions who came to implore him to resume his command. She replied to each individual in the words which my father himself would have dictated, carefully marking by her demeanor the distinction she made between the most respectable chefs de bataillon, and those who, like Santerre, had necessitated by their misconduct my father’s resignation, and who that day all united in taking the same step and repeating the same protestations. My mother, perplexed as she was in performing so difficult a task, was overjoyed at the thought that my father had returned to private life. This satisfaction lasted four days. Having thus marked his displeasure at disorders which he had not been able to prevent, my father yielded to the general entreaties. He resumed his command, and my mother her trials and anxieties.

“On the 21st of June of the same year, 1791, the king left Paris secretly, but was soon brought back from Varennes, where he had been arrested. In no other circumstance of my father’s life did my mother so much admire him as in the one which I am now relating. She beheld him, on the one hand, relinquishing all his republican tendencies to join in the wish of the majority; on the other hand, amidst the difficulties in which he was placed by his position, taking every responsibility, bearing all censure so as to insure the safety of the royal family, and spare them, as much as was in his power, every painful detail. My mother hastened to the Tuileries so soon as the queen began to receive, and before the constitution had been accepted. She found herself there the only woman connected with the patriote party, for she believed as my father did, that politics at such a moment ought not to rule personal intercourse.

RETURN OF THE ROYAL FAMILY TO PARIS.

“The Jacobins raised on the 17th of July a considerable outbreak. The brigands commenced by murdering two men. Martial law was proclaimed. It is difficult to form an idea of my mother’s mortal anguish while my father was in the Champ de Mars, exposed to the rage of an infuriated multitude, which dispersed crying out that my mother must be put to death and her head carried to meet him. I remember the fearful cries we heard, I remember the alarm of everybody in the house, and above all my mother’s joy at the thought that the brigands who were coming to attack her were no longer surrounding my father in the Champ de Mars. While embracing us with tears of joy, she took every necessary precaution against the approaching danger with the greatest calmness, and above all with the greatest relief of mind. The guard had been doubled, and was drawn up before the house, but the brigands were very near entering my mother’s apartment by the garden looking upon the Place du Palais-Bourbon, and were already climbing the low wall which protected us, when a body of cavalry passed on the Place and dispersed them.

“The[“The] constitution having been accepted by the king, the Constituent Assembly ended its sittings, and was replaced by the Legislative Assembly. My father gave up the command of the National Guard, and set out for Auvergne with my mother in the beginning of October. The journey was long, for they were often obliged to stop in order to acknowledge the marks of sympathy they received on the way. We followed in another carriage, and my brother joined us shortly afterwards.

“This interval of repose was of short duration. My father was appointed to the command of one of the three armies which were formed at that time. He left Chavaniac in December, 1791. This departure, the expectation of an approaching war, the dread of fresh disturbances, all contributed to renew my mother’s distress: those who might have shared her feelings had left her. My grandmother, and, soon after, my aunt de Noailles were obliged to return to Paris. She bade them a farewell which she was far from supposing was to be the last.

“War was declared in the month of March, 1792. It began by several skirmishes with my father’s army, in one of which M. de Gouvion, who had been major-general of the National Guard, was killed. My mother was filled with terror and harassed by fearful forebodings. The disturbances at home added to her dismay.

“My father’s letter to the Legislative Assembly, written from the camp of Maubenge, on June 16, 1792, against the Jacobins, and his appearance at the bar to support it, mingled with these anxieties the satisfaction she was accustomed to find in all his actions. But one can well understand how much she must have suffered at such a distance, on seeing him exposed to so many and such various dangers. He invited her to go and join him; but in those times of public commotion she feared that if she accepted his proposal, he might be accused of wishing to put his family in safety: she was also afraid of impeding his movements, which depended on so many uncertain events. After having thought it over several days, she decided upon sacrificing herself and remaining at Chavaniac.

“Shortly after the noble resolution my mother had taken of remaining at Chavaniac, she received intelligence of the insurrection of the 10th of August. She heard almost at the same time that my grandfather, the Duc d’Ayen, who had been defending the king at the Tuileries, and my uncle, M. de Grammont, who had been sought for amongst the dead, had both escaped the dangers of that dreadful day. The newspapers gave details of my father’s resistance at Sédan. But it was soon evident that all was useless, and nothing could be compared to the anguish of my mother’s heart during the days which followed. The public papers were full of sanguinary decrees which were submitted to everywhere except in the district under my father’s command. A price was set on his head, promises were made at the bar of the Assembly to bring him back, dead or alive. At length, on the 24th of August, she received a letter from her sister, Madame de Noailles, telling her that my father was out of France. My mother’s joy was equal to her despair on the preceding days.

“We were in daily expectation of the house being pillaged. My mother provided for everything, burnt or concealed her papers; then, in consequence of the alarming intelligence she received, she resolved to place her children in safety. A priest assermenté[^[1]] came to offer her a place of refuge amidst the mountains. M. Frestel took my brother there during the night. The same evening she sent us to Langeac, a small town about two leagues from Chavaniac, and thus having made every arrangement, she calmly awaited coming events. She remained with my aunt, whom it would have been impossible to persuade to leave the place.

[1]. Prêtre assermenté, one who accepted the Constitution.

“Nevertheless, some days afterwards, calmer feelings having prevailed around her, my mother thought it might be useful for her to go to Brioude, the chief town of the district. There she received from many people proofs of the most lively interest; but she refused the marks of sympathy proffered by several aristocrates ladies, declaring she would take as an insult any token of esteem which could not be shared with my father, and which would tend to separate her cause from his.

“By a decree of the ‘district,’ the seals were affixed on the house. My mother herself had caused this measure to be taken, so as to command respect from the brigands, who were every day expected. The word émigré was not inscribed in the official report, and the respect shown by the two commissaries led her to hope that she had nothing to dread, at least on the part of the administration. She therefore yielded to the earnest entreaties of her daughters, and allowed them to return to Chavaniac. We found her in possession of two letters from my father, written after his departure from France. These letters cheered her greatly. Although she flattered herself that he would soon be released, she was nevertheless much agitated by the news of his arrest.

“On the 10th of September, 1792, at eight o’clock in the morning, the house was invested by a party of armed men. A commissary presented my mother with an order from the Committee of Public Safety, giving directions for her to be sent to Paris with her children. This order was enclosed in a letter from M. Roland, charging him with the execution of this decree. At that very moment my sister entered the room. She had managed to escape from our governess so as to take away all means of hiding her and separating her from my mother.

“My mother did not show the least alarm. She wished to put herself as soon as possible under the protection of those authorities who could give her effectual aid. She had the horses harnessed immediately, and while the preparations for departure were being made, her writing-desk was opened, and my father’s letters seized.

“‘You will see in them, sir,’ said my mother to the commissary, ‘that if there had been tribunals in France, M. de La Fayette would have submitted to them, certain as he was that not an action of his life could criminate him in the eyes of real patriots.’

“‘Nowadays, madam,’ he answered, ‘public opinion is the only tribunal.’

“During that time the soldiers were exploring the house. One of them, on seeing the old family pictures, said to the housekeeper, who was nearly blind from old age:—

“‘Who are these? some grand aristocrates, no doubt?’

“‘Good people who are no more,’ she answered. ‘If they were still alive, things would not be going on as badly as they are now.’

“The soldiers contented themselves with running their bayonets through several pictures. My mother slipped away to give orders for my concealment. Then, with my sister, who would not leave her for a minute, and my aunt, then seventy-three years of age, they departed, followed by their servants, who hoped to make themselves useful by mixing with the soldiers.

“The journey was most trying. They spent the night at Fix. The next morning, on arriving at Le Puy, my mother requested to be immediately conducted to the ‘Département.’ ‘I respect orders coming from the administration,’ she said to the commissary, ‘as much as I detest those coming from elsewhere.’

“The entrance into the town was perilous; a few days previously a prisoner had been massacred on his way through the suburbs. My mother said to my sister, ‘If your father knew you were here, how anxious he would be; but at the same time what pleasure your conduct would give him.’

“The prisoners arrived without injury, although several stones were thrown into the carriage. They alighted at the ‘Département,’ the members of which had been immediately convoked. As soon as the sitting began, my mother said that she placed herself with confidence under the protection of the ‘Département,’ because in it she beheld the authority of the people, which she always respected wherever it could be found.

“‘You receive, Messieurs,’ she added, ‘your orders from M. Roland or from whomsoever you please. As for me, I only choose to receive them from you, and I give myself up as your prisoner.’

“She then requested my father’s letters should be copied before they were sent to Paris, observing that falsehoods were often brought before the Assembly; she asked leave to read these letters aloud. Some one having expressed the fear that doing so might be painful to her. ‘On the contrary,’ she replied, ‘I find support and comfort in the feelings they contain.’ She was listened to at first with interest, then with deep emotion.

“After having read the letters and looked over the copies, she begged not to leave the house of the ‘Département’ as long as she remained at Le Puy. She exposed the injustice of her detention, how useless and perilous a journey to Paris would be, and concluded by saying that if they persisted in keeping her as a hostage, she would be much obliged to the ‘Département,’ were she allowed to make Chavaniac her prison, and in that case she offered her parole not to leave it. It was decided in the next sitting that the ‘Département’ should present her request to the minister. While awaiting the reply, the prisoners were to inhabit the building belonging to the administration.

“While in prison, my mother received touching marks of sympathy. She was often watched by friendly National Guards, who would ask to be employed on that duty in order to prevent its being entrusted to evil-disposed keepers. She sometimes received accounts of my brother, who still remained in the same place of refuge; and of me, for she had thought fit to have me also concealed at a few leagues from Chavaniac.

“At this time public affairs were most inauspicious. All honest officials took favorable opportunities for resigning, and were replaced by Jacobins. We learnt that my father, instead of being set free, had been delivered up by the coalition to the king of Prussia, and was on his way to Spandau. The impression produced on my mother by this news was dreadful. She was in despair at having given her parole to stay at Chavaniac; for notwithstanding the impossibility of leaving France, she could not bear the thoughts of pledging her word to give up seeking every means of rejoining my father.

“M. Roland’s answer came at the end of September. He allowed my mother to return to Chavaniac, a prisoner on parole, under the responsibility of the ‘administration.’ My mother thus received the permission she had asked for at the precise moment when she was struck with dismay by the situation my father was in, and by the dangers he was running now at the hands of foreign powers, as lately at those of the revolutionists at home.

“The ‘Département’ decided that the commune would each day supply six men to guard my mother, who went to the assembly-room immediately on hearing of this resolution.

“‘I here declare, gentlemen,’ she said, ‘that I will not give the parole I offered if guards are to be placed at my door.

“‘Choose between these two securities. I cannot be offended by your not trusting me, for my husband has given still better proofs of his patriotism than I have of my honesty; but you will allow me to believe in my own integrity, and not to add bayonets to my parole.’

“It was decided that no guard should be set, and that the municipality would every fortnight report my mother’s presence at Chavaniac. My mother, on learning that M. Roland had expressed his disapprobation of the massacres of September, and that he alone could free her from the engagement[engagement] she had contracted decided, notwithstanding her reluctance, on writing to him the following letter:—

“‘Sir: I can only attribute to a kind feeling the change you have brought about in my situation. You have spared me the dangers of a too perilous journey, and consented that my place of retirement should be my prison. But any prison whatever has become insupportable to me since I learnt that my husband has been transferred from town to town by the enemies of France, who were conducting him to Spandau. However repugnant to my feelings it may be to owe anything to men who have shown themselves the enemies and accusers of him whom I revere and love as I ought to do, it is in all the frankness of my heart that I vow eternal gratitude to whoever will enable me to join my husband, by taking all responsibility from the ‘administration,’ and by giving me back my parole, if in the event of France becoming more free it were possible to travel without danger.

“‘It is on my knees, if necessary, that I implore this favor; imagine by that the state I am in.

“‘Noailles La Fayette.’

“M. Roland thus answered:—

“‘I have put, madam, your touching request under the eyes of the committee. I must nevertheless observe that it would seem to me imprudent for a person bearing your name to travel through France, on account of the unpleasant impression which is at the present moment attached to it. But circumstances may alter. I advise you to wait, and I shall be the first to seize a favorable opportunity.’

“My mother answered him immediately as follows:—

“‘I return you thanks, sir, for the ray of hope with which you have brightened my heart, so long unaccustomed to that feeling. Nothing can add to what I owe to my parole and to the administrateurs who rely upon it. No degree of misfortune could ever make me think of breaking my word, but your letter renders that duty a little more supportable, and I already begin to feel something of that gratitude I promised you if, delivered through your hands, I were restored to the object of my affections, and to the happiness of offering him some consolation.

“‘Noailles La Fayette.’

“Three months had elapsed since we had heard anything about my father. The public papers had announced his transfer to Wessel instead of Spandau: since then they had been silent. My mother wrote an unsealed letter to the Duke of Brunswick, entreating the generalissimo of the allied troops to send her some news of her husband through the French army.

“She also wrote thus to the king of Prussia:—

“‘Sir: Your Majesty’s well-known integrity admits of M. de La Fayette’s wife addressing herself to you without forgetting what she owes to her husband’s character. I have always hoped, sir, that Your Majesty would respect virtue wherever it was to be found, and thereby give to Europe a glorious example. It is now five long, dreadful months since I last heard anything of M. de La Fayette, so I cannot plead his cause. But it seems to me that both his enemies and myself speak eloquently in his favor: they by their crimes, I by the violence of my despair. They prove his virtue, and how much he is feared by the wicked; I show how worthy he is of being loved. They make it a necessity for Your Majesty’s glory not to have an object of persecution in common with them. Shall I myself be fortunate enough to give you the occasion of restoring me to life by delivering him?

“‘Allow me, sir, to indulge in that hope as in the one of soon owing to you this deep debt of gratitude.

“‘Noailles La Fayette.’

“In December M. Roland obtained from the committee the repeal of the order for my mother’s arrest. She was still under the surveillance to which the ci-devant nobles were subjected, and could not leave the department without express permission. But she was disengaged from her promise, and she was not discouraged. Pecuniary interests also detained my mother in France, not on her own account nor on that of her children, but because she looked upon it as a sacred duty before leaving the country to see the rights of my father’s creditors acknowledged.

“The events of the 31st of May, which assured the triumph of the terrorist party, brought no alteration at first in our situation, but took from us all hopes for the future.

“Towards the middle of June my mother received, through the minister of the United States, two letters from my father, written from the dungeon of Magdebourg. The anxiety they occasioned with respect to my father’s health marred the joy we felt in receiving them....

“At that period of the Revolution, many émigrés’ wives thought it necessary, for the preservation of their children’s fortune and for their personal safety, to obtain a divorce. My mother esteemed and even respected the virtue of several persons who thought themselves obliged to take this step. But as for herself, the scruples of her conscience would not have allowed her to save her life by feigning an act contrary to Christian law, even when no one could be deceived. However, another motive influenced her, though this one would have sufficed. Her love for my father made her find pleasure in all that was a remembrance of him. Whilst many pious and tender wives sought for safety in a pretended divorce, never did she address a request to any administration whatever, or present a petition, without feeling satisfaction in beginning everything she wrote by these words: ‘La Femme La Fayette.’

“On the 21st of Brumaire [Nov. 12] my mother received the intelligence that she was to be arrested on the following day. She kept this news from us till the next morning. The hours passed away in cruel expectation. M. Granchier, commissary of the Revolutionary Committee, arrived at the château in the evening of the same day, with a detachment of the National Guard of Paulhaguet. We all collected in my mother’s room, where the order of the Committee for her arrest was read aloud. She presented the certificate of civism given her by the commune. M. Granchier answered that it was too old, and that it was of no use, not having been countersigned by the Committee.

“‘Citoyen,’ my sister then asked, ‘are daughters prevented from following their mother?’

“‘Yes, mademoiselle,’ answered the commissary.

“She insisted, adding that, being sixteen, she was included in the law. He seemed moved, but changed the subject. My mother kept up everybody’s courage. She tried to persuade us that the separation would not be a long one.

“The jail at Brioude was already full. The newly arrived prisoners were, nevertheless, crammed into it. My mother found herself in the midst of all the ladies of the nobility, with whom she had had no intercourse since the Revolution. At first they were impertinent, but they soon shared in the admiration my mother inspired in all those who approached her. The society of the prison was divided into coteries, which cordially hated each other; but for my mother every one professed attachment.

“My mother soon became aware that she could do nothing for her deliverance, and that, to escape greater misfortunes, her best plan was to avoid attracting attention. One day she ventured to suggest the necessity of giving more air to a sick woman confined in a small room with eleven other people. This brought down on her a volley of abuse impossible to describe. My mother was happy to find place in a room which served as a passageway, and where three bourgeoises of Brioude were already established. By these persons she was received in a very touching manner.

“The news my mother received at that time from Paris caused her most painful agitation. My grandmother and my aunt de Noailles were put under arrest in their own house, at the Hôtel de Noailles. We had occasional opportunities of communicating with my mother. We used to send her clean linen every week. The list was sewn on the parcel, and each time we wrote on the back of the page, which nobody ever thought of unsewing. She would answer us in the same way. But this mode of correspondence was not safe enough to be employed in giving any other details than those concerning our health.

“The innkeeper’s daughter, a child of thirteen, sometimes managed, when carrying the prisoners’ dinner, to approach my mother. Blows, abuse of language, all was indifferent to that courageous girl, so that she could succeed in beholding my mother, and in letting us know that she was in good health.

“In the course of January [1794] we found out that it was not impossible to bribe the jailer and to gain admission into the prison. M. Frestel (my brother’s tutor) undertook the negotiation, which was not without danger. He succeeded. It was settled that he would take one of us every fortnight to Brioude. My sister was the first to go. She started on horseback in the night, remained the whole of the following day with the good aubergiste, who was devoted to us, and spent the night with my mother. But when daylight came, they were obliged to tear themselves from each other. My sister brought back joy in the midst of us with the details of this happy meeting. We had, each in our turn, the same satisfaction.

“My mother’s health bore up as well as her fortitude. She was the comfort of those who surrounded her, ever seeking to be of service to her companions. Thinking she might be useful to some infirm women, she proposed to them to have their meals with her. She contrived to persuade them that they were contributing to the common expense, when nearly all the cost fell upon herself. She also cooked for them. The prison life was most wearisome. The room in which she slept with five or six people was only separated by a screen from the public passage.

“My mother soon became plunged in the deepest affliction. She learned that my grandmother, my aunt, and the Maréchale de Noailles, my grandfather’s mother, had been transferred to the Luxembourg.

“Towards the end of May the order to convey my mother to the prison of La Force, in Paris, reached Brioude. You may fancy our despair when we received our mother’s letter. The messenger had been delayed, and it was to be feared that she was no longer at Brioude. M. Frestel set off immediately. He was bearer of all the small jewelry possessed by the members of the household, who had given them to be sold in order to avoid my mother being conveyed in a cart from brigade to brigade.

“On arriving at Brioude, M. Frestel obtained a delay of twenty-four hours. We soon joined him at the prison. We found my mother in a room by herself, but fetters were placed near the pallet upon which she had thrown herself to seek a little repose. The violence of my sister’s despair was fearful to witness. Owing to M. Frestel’s entreaties, she obtained leave from my mother to follow her, and to accompany him in order to implore the aid of the American minister. She remained only a short time at the prison, and left us to go to Le Puy for the purpose of obtaining a permit to travel out of the department. She was to join my mother on the way.

“My brother and I remained in the horrible room in which my mother was confined. We all three offered up our prayers to God. At twelve o’clock M. Gissaguer entered the room and said it was time to depart. My mother gave her last instructions to George and to myself, and made us promise to seek and to seize upon every means of joining my father. She grieved at seeing us undergo so young such cruel misfortunes.

“My sister passed that day at Le Puy. In spite of innumerable obstacles she succeeded in seeing the citoyen Guyardin. She conjured him to have an inquiry made with respect to my mother’s conduct and to forward it to Paris. He did not move, remained seated at his bureau, and continued writing, while she was addressing him in the most urgent manner. He refused to read a letter from my mother handed to him by Anastasie, saying that he could not trouble himself about a prisoner who was summoned to Paris, and adding most vulgar jokes to his refusal. My unfortunate sister left the room in a most violent state of despair and indignation. The cruel Guyardin did not grant her the necessary permission to travel out of the department and to follow my mother’s carriage, and my poor sister, in despair, was obliged to let M. Frestel set off without her.

“My mother arrived in Paris on the 19th of Prairial, three days before the decree of the 22d, which organized une terreur dans la Terreur. At that time no less than sixty people were daily falling victims of the Revolutionary Tribunal. All seemed to forebode approaching death to my mother. You may fancy the anguish of mind in which we spent the two months which followed my mother’s departure for Paris. We were daily expecting to hear of the greatest misfortune which could befall us. Towards that time the château of Chavaniac and the furniture were sold.

“The peasants of the commune brought us with hearty good will all that was necessary for our subsistence. Every day it was reported that my aunt and my sister were to be sent to the prison of Brioude, whilst my brother and myself were to be taken to the hospital. As for my mother, the life she was leading at La Petite Force was dreadful. At the end of a fortnight my mother was transferred to Le Plesis. This building, formerly a college where my father had been educated, had been turned into a prison.

“Since the law of the 22d of Prairial, the Revolutionary Tribunal sent each day sixty persons to the scaffold. One of the buildings of Le Plesis served as a depot to the Conciergerie, so every morning twenty prisoners could be seen departing for the guillotine. ‘The thought of soon being one of the victims,’ my mother wrote, ‘makes one endure such a sight with more firmness.’ Twice she fancied that she was being called to take her place amongst the victims.

“My mother passed forty days at La Force and Le Plesis, expecting death at every moment. In the midst of the tumult caused by the revolution of the 10th Thermidor, it was for a moment believed that fresh massacres would take place in the prisons; but soon afterward the news of Robespierre’s death reached the captives, and it became known to them that the executions of the Revolutionary Tribunal had ceased. My mother’s first thought was to send to the Luxembourg. The jailer’s answer revealed to her the fearful truth. My grandmother, with my aunt de Noailles and the Maréchale de Noailles had been sent to the scaffold on the 4th Thermidor: the three generations perished together. How can I give you an idea of my mother’s despair? ‘Return thanks to God,’ she wrote to us later, ‘for having preserved my strength, my life, my reason; do not regret that you were far from me. God kept me from revolting against Him, but for a long time I could not have borne the slightest appearance of human comfort.’”

BEFORE THE REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL.

Madame La Fayette in her “Life of the Duchesse d’Ayen” gives the following interesting though painful particulars regarding the execution of her mother, grandmother, and sister:—

“My mother and my sister were put under arrest in the first days of October, but allowed to remain well guarded at the Hôtel de Noailles. A month later I myself was taken as a prisoner to Brioude, and it became still more difficult to correspond.

“Persecutions went on increasing. One day the detenus had to answer questions on their actions and on their thoughts. My mother and my sister were prepared, and answered those who questioned them with their usual tact and straightforwardness. The inventory of all that was in their possession was drawn up. My mother, fearing she might be made to swear that she had concealed nothing, had hung to her side, in the shape of a watch chain, all the diamonds which were left her. They were not taken; she sold them that same day to a jeweller, who gave her immediately the money she required to pay the small debts which were owing, but she never received the full amount of what was due her, the jeweller having been beheaded on the following day.

“Nothing in the world was now left them, save some few trifles of my sister’s, which were sold, and what belonged to M. Grellet (tutor to my sister’s children), who had given them all he possessed. This extreme poverty and all its consequences are hardly worth mentioning in the midst of so many other and greater trials. Each day brought some new misfortune or some fresh disaster. My father not being able to obtain satisfactory certificates of residence, was obliged to leave his family and return to Switzerland, where he had been living for some time for his health. My father’s men of business had all been arrested. It was soon the turn of the members of ‘Parlement,’ and M. de Saron, my mother’s brother-in-law, was executed on Easter Sunday, 1794.

“For some time past even women had not been spared. Yet my mother and my sister were far from thinking that their personal safety was threatened; their hearts were, however, prepared, and they had asked M. Carrichon if he would have the courage to accompany them to the foot of the scaffold.

“At last, in the month of May, they were ordered to quit the Hôtel de Noailles; and, after having been led through Paris from prison door to prison door, they were at last conducted with the Maréchale de Noailles (my father’s mother) to the Luxembourg. On arriving there my mother’s courage did not fail her, and she was much calmer than she had been for a long time past.

“The care my grandmother required occupied them incessantly. Notwithstanding all the misfortunes which were falling on her at once, my mother forgot none of those who were dear to her. It was M. Grellet who broke to her the news of my arrival in the prisons of Paris; she cruelly felt this fresh misfortune, and succeeded in sending me prudent advice.

“At last, after having seen falling around her nearly all the victims who had been heaped into the same prison, as well as those who were dearest to her, she was summoned with her mother-in-law and daughter to the Conciergerie, that is to say, to death. They arrived at the Conciergerie worn out with fatigue. M. Grellet had repaired to a café next to the gate, and succeeded in exchanging a few words with my sister.

“Deprived of everything, they had barely sufficient money to obtain a glass of currant water. The persons who shared their cell prepared a single miserable bed for the three prisoners. My mother was dejected, and could not yet believe that so great a crime was possible. She stretched herself on the pallet, and entreated my sister to lie down by her side.

“Madame de Noailles refused to lie down, saying that she had too short a time to live for it to be worth while to take that trouble. Her mother passed part of the night in trying to persuade her to do so. ‘Think,’ she said, ‘of what we shall have to go through to-morrow.’

“‘Ah, mamma!’ my sister answered, ‘what need have we to rest on the eve of eternity?’

“She asked for a prayer-book and a light, by which she was enabled to read. She prayed during the whole night. She interrupted herself occasionally to attend to her grandmother, who slept for several hours at different intervals, and who, each time she woke, would read over and over again her acte d’accusation, repeating to herself:—

“‘No; I cannot be condemned for a conspiracy which I have never heard of; I shall defend my cause before the judges in such a manner that they will be obliged to acquit me.’ She thought of her dress, and feared that it might be tumbled; she settled her cap, and could not believe that, for her, that day was to be the last.

“The next morning, my mother, somewhat rested, saw more clearly the doom which awaited her, showed great courage, spoke tenderly of her grandchildren, and begged of the prisoners who were present to take charge of her watch for them. ‘It is the last thing I can send them,’ she said. She took some chocolate with the Madames de Boufflers (relations of M. de La Fayette), and was afterwards summoned to the horrible tribunal. I have been told that my sister, whilst dressing my mother, seemed still to find happiness in attending upon her. She was heard to say, ‘Courage, mamma, it is only one hour more!’

“My sister, the Vicomtesse de Noailles, entreated the prisoners to send to her children an empty pocket-book, a portrait, and some hair. But she was told that such a mission would endanger the persons who occupied the room. The name of her sister, Madame de La Fayette, was pronounced in that fearful abode. She imposed silence for fear of putting me in danger. She made no attempt to seek repose. Her eyes remained opened to contemplate that heaven into which she was about to enter. Her face reflected the serenity of her soul. The idea of immortality supported her courage. Never was so much calm witnessed in such a place. But she would forget everything to be of use to her mother and grandmother.

“Nine o’clock struck. The Huissiers carried off their victims; tears were shed by those who had only known them for twelve hours. The mothers made some arrangements for the event of an acquittal. But my sister, who did not doubt of the doom which awaited them, thanked Madame Lavet (one of their fellow-prisoners), with that charming manner which was in her a gift of nature, expressed all her gratitude for her kind attentions, and added, ‘Votre figure est heureuse; vous ne périrez pas.’

“M. Grellet, who the day before had been confined in a cell for three hours on account of the interest he had evinced for the prisoners, having been released as by a miracle, repaired to M. Carrichon. This good priest, as well as M. Brun, obtained from Heaven strength enough to follow the prisoners on the way from the Conciergerie to the scaffold; there my sister recognized M. Carrichon, and, with a presence of mind sublime at such a moment, she pointed him out to my mother, who appeared agitated, but who collected all her courage, and received fresh strength by the grace of absolution. From that moment till the last, her thoughts were no longer on earthly things; and during the three-quarters of an hour she had to wait at the foot of the scaffold, she did not cease to pray with fervor and resignation. MM. Brun and Carrichon remained till all was over. I feel that the thought of following in footsteps so dear would have taken from the horror of so awful an end.

“Je renonce à rien exprimer, parce que ce que je sens est inexprimable.”

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.