luiiiiiniHHinmiiiiii UUtUUUiitlUSIttUi illw.!i-4;::i:'i:;i:tio'n:s i» l.L.;;':'L.<.JLJL liillllil!!lil!liil >0 o. .0' . ^" .A^' ^.^' ,0- '^ C- 8 I V /o'^,>/^ V' .*#t C?' S^ ■ \ -oo^ ^ -^ N ■%c<-- O >i ■a '"^ > ,0- -^^ ''^^. *o.o- .0' » <^ s vOo. %*-"'„>^ .■^■ <>%. %^ >" ■0^ s ■^ ^^... ^A v^ ■"oo'^' n.'^" do. ,> .0^ • ■ ^ .V ,■ ^ « ,. #r:/?:^?^ ■ >■ ■"oo^l .v^:: '>^i^^- -:, '^^J- ,N^ > ./>. .v^^- .^^^ N rO' ,.^^''^., .vV -/>. <" vOo \' >^1°''''> ■^ .<=,•■ ,0 o^ ■\: ^>^^.--- .*■• A cP\-^' O- 0^. .V t^ '^;n*'- •->. .- '^-'* ■'"to'" ^i.° . %. o V Oo^ ■^i .^'"^ %.<^' - <5. .A- V^*., ^ 0' \T> 'P ^ -. c-^^'-^. nV 'FORWARD! FORWARD!" HE CRIED fc l |l im»Uiant»l»iniuuMiiiut i im i aMiimu H iiM i iiiiiM Mii»miiiLi»LMiMiiM»»i.fm;fciiii.niii,niiMmuimmiii»»mu\iinililiiHliHi» LAFAYETTE ^I^ih lUusiraiions I^ Frank E Schoonoi/or The Pcnn Publishing CompaTvy 1^21 PhiladeljSiia \<^%t lminiiuiiiiiiiiii »u i nm i ii i iii i iimiii»i i iiiiiiiimmmimi iiiiiiimiiiu»iiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiaiiiiKmiiiiiuiiiiiiii»iil^ JAN -5 1322 INTRODUCTION LAFAYETTE is a name which will always strike a responsive chord in the heart of every American, young or old; and this book is the life story of that young French nobleman, the great friend of America, who gave up, for the time being, his wife, his ancestral home and all that he held dear, in order to espouse the cause of a young and strug- gling nation. From his earliest childhood, Lafayette saw all about him the evils of a system of monarchy which sorely oppressed the lower orders of society. He had always spoken openly against this injustice in France, and now that a chance had come for him to help an oppressed people rise, he seized it and gave himself and the major part of his fortune to the over- throw of a like system. Fortunately for us, the Lafayette whose birthday we cele- brate is not the portly man past middle life, but the romantic young zealot who believed in the cause of liberty and freedom. He was no young sprig of nobility seeking the applause of the multitude, he wanted to help America with all his heart and soul. INTRODUCTION The author has gathered from many sources the wealth of material which comprises this story. She has given us the great moments in the life of the Lafayette who will appeal to children, and she has told the story in a delightfully simple manner that is forceful and telling, and easily understood. Contents CHAPTER PAGE I. The Scion of His Sires 11 II. As THE Twig is Bent 22 III. The Boy Becomes an Obsebver 31 IV. School Life Begins 41 V. At Versailles .61 VI. Lafayette Goes A- Wooing 63 VII. And So They Were Married 72 VIII. A Great Eesolve 82 IX. Ways and Means 91 X. An Obstructed Path ....... 105 XI. After Many Difficulties 115 XII. The Land of Desire 130 XIII. Lafayette Receives a Shock 142 XIV. The Reason Why .153 XV. Lafayette Proves His Mettle 160 XVL ''The Marquis" 176 XVII. The Army of the North 184 XVIII. Lafayette Proves Worthy of Trust . . .197 XIX. Lafayette, the Peacemaker 211 XX. A Prodigal's Return 222 XXI. Lafayette's Busy Year 232 XXII. An Appalling Discovery 240 CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE XXIII. The Close of the Fifth Act 252 XXIV. A Nation's Guest 270 XXV. The Beginning OF THE Storm 280 XXVI. The Friend of the People 295 XXVII. The Fall of an Idol 309 XXVIII. A Victim of Despotism 324 XXIX. In Private Life 345 XXX. << The Friend of Our Fathers" .... 358 XXXI. Death— The Parting and Reunion .... 369 Illustrations ^'Forward! Forward!" He Cried Frontispiece "^ PAGE Pressing the Weapon Close to the Side of the Wolf . . .18 The Young Girl Glanced at Him Quickly 71 The Skipper Met Lafayette's Glance with Determination . . 133 And So Began that Tender Friendship Between the Two Men . 159 Under Washington's Direction the Soldiers Built Log Huts . 184 The Marquis Conducted His Troops Briskly Along the Sound . 212 The Prison Cell Seemed More Dismal Than Ever .... 340 v^ Lafayette w LAFAYETTE The Soldier of Freedom CHAPTER I The Scion of His Sires E will rest here, Prince, until Gaspard overtakes us, else he will think we are lost. It is warm, and I doubt not that you will be glad to stand. Is it not so, my pony?" The speaker, a boy between eight and nine years of age, drew rein as he came out of the forest into a small upland moor, and leaning forward patted caressingly the neck of the sturdy little pony that he bestrode. He was a very small boy, thin and delicate in appearance, with large, hazel eyes, and bright red hair which shone ruddily below his small riding hat, intensifying the pallor of his face. His manner was re- markable for its gravity; the manner of a child who has been much among adults. In truth, Marie Jean Joseph Paul Ives Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette had no playmates of his own age, for he was the only child of his widowed mother, the Comtesse de Lafayette. It was an appalling name for [ 11 1 LAFAYETTE such a little fellow, but at this time, 1766, it was the custom in France to bestow upon both boys and girls the names of dis- tinguished ancestors. Therefore, as this lad was the scion of a most illustrious family, he bore many appellations. Simply told, his name was Gilbert Motier de Lafayette. Later in life he became known solely by the name of Lafayette. His mother and relatives called him Gilbert. As the bridle fell loosely upon the pony's neck the animal began to crop the grass that grew sparsely in the midst of the purple heather and golden bloom of the moor, while his young master surveyed the interlaced branches of the forest or gazed searchingly into the dark recesses of the wood as though seek- ing for some sign of bird or beast. It was a midsummer's day, very sultry even in the shade of the forest. There was a dull haze in the atmosphere through which the July sun beat with fierce heat. The air was close and heavy with that oppression which presages a storm. There was no stir of living thing in the underbrush. It was as though the denizens of the woods had sensed the approach of a tempest, and had retired to their coverts. Not a leaf rustled. It was quiet, extremely so, but the lad seemed to find nothing unusual in such stillness. Presently the silence was broken by an echoing shout: "Master Gilbert! Master Gilbert, where are you?" A twinkle came into the little fellow's eyes, and a smile curved his lips. " Good Gaspard thinks me lost," he chuckled with a shrug of his slight shoulders. " As though I could get lost with Prince to guide me." [12] THE SCION OF HIS SIRES Then, as the halloo came again, he rose in his stirrups and called in a clear childish treble: " Here I am, Gaspard. Here I am." Almost instantly there came the deep-throated baying of a hound in the near distance, and a few moments later a man, astride a big bay horse, and followed by a large wolfhound, issued from the trees and rode into the clearing. The gray- haired figure did not draw rein until he had reached the lad's side, and laid a hand upon the pony's bridle. " You should not have strayed from me. Master Gilbert," he reproved, his accents sharp with anxiety. " Here it hath been all of twenty minutes since last I saw you. What if aught had happened to you? " *' But naught did happen, Gaspard. And what are twenty minutes?" " In twenty minutes anything might happen in the moun- tains of Auvergne, Master Gilbert. The woods are filled with wild boars and wolves." "And yet," remarked young Lafayette plaintively, "for full three hours have we ridden through them and not a wild thing has crossed our path. Why, not even a sign have we found of the big wolf that so troubles the village." " For which heaven be praised," ejaculated the older man devoutly. "A desperate wolf is an ugly thing to encounter, and this wolf must be desperate else it would not venture into the village at this time of the year. Had I believed that we would meet it I should not have been persuaded into riding into the mountains in search of it. For you are bold to rashness. Master Gilbert." [13 ] LAFAYETTE "Would you have a Lafayette shrink from danger, Gaspard? " "Ay! until he is old enough to care for himself," answered the other, speaking with the freedom of an old and affectionate servitor. " You are the last of your name and therefore should not recklessly endanger yourself. Beside, what would your mother do should aught of harm befall you? " " My mother need fear naught while I am in your charge, Gaspard." Lafayette smiled as he laid his hand gently upon the attendant's knee. " Be not fearful, mon ami. I am not so reckless as you think. I could defend both you and myself if need were to arise. See you this weapon? " As he spoke he threw back the short black riding cloak that he wore disclosing a holster containing a pistol buckled about his small waist. Old Gaspard's eyes opened wide at sight of it. "Master Gilbert, where got you that weapon?" he de- manded. " It was my father's, good Gaspard. Desplaus taught me how to use it. I do quite well when I use both hands. So fear naught. I shall not seek danger, but if it come I shall know how to meet it." With a dignified gesture he let his cloak fall again over the pistol. " You go too fast, too fast. Master Gilbert," grumbled Gaspard. " * A child should creep before he walks.' " "A child? Pouf! I am a man." The boy's gravity dropped from him suddenly, and he laughed in delighted merri- ment at the effect he had produced. " Desplaus says that in another year I must begin to handle the sword." Gaspard shook his head, and opened his lips to reply when [ 14 ] <► THE SCION OF HIS SIRES a low mutter of thunder caused him to glance quickly at the sky. " We must return to the chateau, Master Gilbert," he cried. "A storm is brewing, but if we take a short cut down the mountainside we may reach Chavaniac before it breaks." "As you will," sighed the boy, turning his pony obediently. " But I would that we had found the wolf." The wolf in question was one that had been annoying the peasants of the village belonging to the Chateau de Chavaniac. It had been glimpsed several times, and many tales were told of its unusual size and prowess. It killed the sheep, and so frightened the villagers that no woman or child dared venture forth alone after dark; and every man went armed with a pike or other weapon that he might be prepared to do battle with it. In spite of his tender years it was the boy's greatest desire to rid the people of this beast, and for this reason he had extended his rides more and more into the forest, thereby causing his faithful attendant the utmost uneasiness and apprehension. So now as they rode back into the forest, unmindful of the darkening sky, the lad kept a keen outlook for any unusual stir in the underbrush, and followed with eagerness every movement of the wolfhound. It was an ancient wood that covered the mountains of Auvergne, for here were trees as old as history. So dense was the growth that the path that led down the mountainside — it could scarcely be called a road — was hardly discernible in the gathering shadows, but Gaspard took the lead with the sureness of knowledge. Meantime the clouds lowered thick and black, and pre- monitory rumblings in the heavens betokened the rising of the [ 15 ] LAFAYETTE storm. Though it was mid-afternoon the shadows under the dense foliage deepened into twilight. Gaspard's face was exceedingly grave as ominous mutterings from above warned him that the storm must soon break, and that it promised to be violent. A wild tempest sometimes brought sudden floods in the mountains of Auvergne. To be caught in one of the val- leys in such a downpour would be dangerous in the extreme. The horses nickered in a frightened manner as they stimibled forward, and the hound no longer bounded in front of them but ran close to their heels. *' We are in for a skin wetting, Master Gilbert," observed Gaspard with an apprehensive glance at his young master. "An old dog like me minds it not, but you — ^you may come to harm by it. We must try to find a shelter." " 'Tis summer, Gaspard. A wetting will do no harm," " Perchance not, but " began Gaspard, but at this mo- ment a flash illuminated the clouds. At the same instant a heavy peal of thunder rolled from tree to tree shaking the earth. The heavens grew darker and darker. A clap of thunder more violent than the first rent the clouds, and the rain fell thick and drenching. The horses stopped of themselves and stood trembling violently as flash succeeded flash. With a low yelp the hound crept close to them and dropped trembling at their feet. Gaspard slipped from his horse, and lifting young Lafayette from his pony drew him into his embrace in the endeavor to shield him from the downpour. " We must find some sort of shelter until the force of the [ 16 1 THE SCION OF HIS SIRES storm hath spent itself," he said, trying to peer into the dark recesses of the forest. " Good Gaspard, look behind you," cried the boy as a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the scene. *' Is there not a rift in the rocks? Is it large enough for us to get into? Perchance that might give us the shelter you wish." " I see." Gaspard turned and glanced at a dark and gloomy opening in the wall of rock which rose precipitately to the right of the path a short distance from them. " If its promise is good we shall be covered somewhat from the rain. But first, the horses." Quickly tethering the anunals he passed his arm about the lad, and slowly they made their way over the ground, slippery from the rain, toward the opening in the rocks. It was a wide aperture, large enough to admit a man much bigger than Gaspard, and apparently led back into a cavern. Gaspard hesitated before the darkness of the entrance. " We will let Pons explore it first," he began, then stopped short; for the hound had suddenly stiffened and stood with upstanding ears regarding the opening, growling low and menacingly the while. The growling was answered with a snarl from the depths of the cavern, followed almost immediately by the appearance of a pair of yellow green eyes set in the head of a great yellow brown body. " Pardieu, the wolf! " came from Gaspard in a hoarse shout as he thrust the lad behind him, and whipped out his hunting knife. " Stand back, Master Gilbert." As he spoke the big wolf leaped for him, but the hound [ 17 ] LAFAYETTE which seemed to have been waiting for the moment sprang for the beast, and deflected him from the impact. As the two animals came to the ground in a mighty struggle to get at each other's throat Gaspard bent over them, ready for the opportune thrust that should give victory to the dog. The moment came, and he thrust vigorously. With a howl of rage and pain the wolf tore himself from the grip of the dog and sprang upon his new adversary. The man staggered under the brute's weight, then recovered himself, and began to slash right and left with his knife. Snapping, snarling, clawing, the beast tore at the man in its agony. Again and again Gaspard thrust but seemed unable to free himself from the brute. At this juncture a little figure crept softly to his side, extended two small hands in which a pistol was gripped hard, and pressing the weapon close to the shaggy side of the wolf pulled the trigger. The report followed and with it came the smell of burning powder. The creature's great muscles relaxed, and it fell to the ground. A mighty spasm shook its frame, and then it lay still. A cry of exultation came from Gaspard, and he caught the lad in a great embrace. "A child?" he cried. "Name of sense, no! You are a man, and have done a deed worthy of a Lafayette. You said that you could protect both you and myself, and ma foi! you have done it. Master Gilbert. You have slain the wolf." "Nay; we killed it together, Gaspard," protested the boy. " Did not you wound it many times with your knife? But are you hurt? " he added, his face full of concern, for Gaspard truly presented an alarming appearance. The clothing of his chest and arms hung in shreds, and [ 18 ] PRESSING THE WEAPON CLOSE TO THE SIDE OF THE WOLF THE SCION OF HIS SIRES several long deep scratches that were bleeding profusely showed upon his flesh. Smilingly Gaspard shook his head. " Mere scratches. Master Gilbert. They do not matter since the wolf is dead." "Is it the one that hath been troubling the peasants in the village, Gaspard? " " The very same, I doubt not. It is of the size and descrip- tion that those who have seen it relate, and from this lair it were an easy matter for it to descend to the village. And by killing it we have earned a hundred francs, for that is the bounty given for the head of a wolf that is slain." " Then if you are sure it is the wolf, let us go at once to tell the people," cried Lafayette eagerly. " Through the rain? " questioned Gaspard dubiously. The boy laughed gleefully. " Are we not already as wet as can be, good Gaspard? Then, too, it does not seem to be raining so hard now." The severest part of the storm was indeed over. It was still raining, but it was no longer a downpour. The sky had become lighter while the mutterings of the thunder were be- coming more and more distant. Gaspard glanced at the sky, and nodded approval. " You are right," he observed. " Wait for a moment only. Master Gilbert, and then we will start." With this he bent over the wolf, and carefully severed the head from the body. Then over the slippery ground the two made their way back to the horses, and mounting rode slowly down the mountainside. By the time they came into the valley the weather had be- come much better. The rain had ceased, and the sun was [ 19 ] LAFAYETTE breaking through the clouds. Before them lay Chavaniac, a lovely little village of some fifty houses clustered about a bold promontory, upon which stood a large chateau in the midst of a background of hills and forest. From under its walls a boisterous rivulet bubbled, losing itself in the woods that lay beyond the town. Green meadows lay about the hamlet against which the foliage of the trees looked dark and heavy after the storm. The villagers came pouring out of their houses at Gaspard's shout: " The wolf is slain, good people. Behold its head ! " A cry of joy went up from the peasants as he held aloft the head of the animal. Gaspard's voice rang out again: " The little lord killed it, my friends. With his own hands he fired the shot that sent it to its death." *' The little lord? The little lord? " ran from lip to lip in wondering admiration. Then suddenly a ringing shout went up: *' A Lafayette ! A Lafayette ! " But the shrill, childish treble of the boy's voice brought them to respectful silence. " I did not kill the wolf alone," he told them. " Gaspard fought hand to hand with it with his knife. See! his cloth- ing is torn to shreds from its claws, and his flesh bleeds from his wounds. I fired the pistol while Gaspard held the wolf upon his breast, after he had wounded it many times. Yes; and Pons, the dog, did help us too." " To whom then, my little Marquis, doth the bounty be- long? " questioned the mayor of the town respectfully. " To Gaspard? " [ 20] THE SCION OF HIS SIRES But Gaspard held up his hands protestingly, shaking his head. " To whom then shall it be given? " asked the mayor again. " To Pons, the dog, Master Gilbert?" Young Lafayette laughed with the mayor at the suggestion. Then he pondered a moment. " Give it to those whose sheep have been destroyed by the wolf," he said. " And to the bounty shall be added as many francs as may be needed to make good their losses. Is this satisfactory? " The mayor's eyes misted. He bent and pressed his lips to the boy's hand. " Spoken like a true Lafayette, my little lord," he mur- mured. " Always and always have the Lafayettes been mind- ful of their people's weal. It shall be given as you say, and untold good will it do them. The gabelle is due in three days. Without this it could not have been met." And, as he repeated the lad's wish to the peasants, they fell upon their knees by the roadside with a grateful cry: " Vive Lafayette ! Vive Lafayette ! " With thoughtful brow the young marquis rode out of the village, and up the winding road to the chateau upon the promontory. [21 ] CHAPTER II As THE Twig is Bent THERE was no more romantic spot in all France than the site of the Chateau de Chavaniac de Lafayette in the Province of Auvergne, a region famous for its magnificent mountain scenery. It was six miles from the ancient town of Brioude, and about one hundred and twenty leagues from Paris. It stood upon a rocky promontory amid an amphitheatre of mountains, commanding a splendid view of encircling summits. According to tradition the manor of Chavaniac dated back !to the Fourteenth Century, but the castle toward which its young master and his attendant rode was not the original building. That had burned to the ground in 1701, sixty-five years before, but had been rebuilt as nearly like the former structure as possible. So that while the building was vener- able in appearance, in reality it was not ancient. It was severe in aspect, but its wildly picturesque environment of mountain, forest and stream redeemed it from heaviness. The estate attached comprised an extensive and considerable property. [22] AS THE TWIG IS BENT Under a great avenue of trees young Lafayette rode across the fine old park and through the courtyard to the principal fa9ade of the chateau which faced the northwest. As he drew rein a stately lady whose delicate beauty betokened the patri- cian came hastily out of the chateau to greet him. " At last, my son," she cried. " I have been so uneasy, even though you were with Gaspard. Ma foi, what a storm it hath been! Are you drenched?" " Yes ; we are wet through to the skin. Mother, but 'tis nothing. Naught of harm will come of it; it hath been so warm." The boy dismounted, and in the courtly fashion of the time took his mother's hand and kissed it. " But what think you, maman? We sought shelter from the storm in a cave, and lo! the wolf that hath so frightened the peasants was there before us, Gaspard and I killed it. See its head? " " The wolf? " Julie, Comtesse de Lafayette, turned pale and drew her son to her quickly. " Say you that the wolf was there? What happened? Are you hurt?" " Not in the least, Mother. Gaspard thrust me behind him as soon as the beast came from its lair, and himself fought it with his knife. But he is hurt. See how the wolf tore his clothing, and made those great scratches upon hfs chest and arms." " Good Gaspard, you do in truth bleed," cried the comtesse with concern. " Come within the hall at once that your wounds may be washed and dressed." ** But first, my lady, listen to the rest of the tale, I pray you," exclaimed Gaspard. " 'Tis one that will make your heart beat and your eyes glow with pride of your son. Master [ 33 ] LAFAYETTE Gilbert did not relate the whole of it. Know then that as I held the wolf upon my chest unable to loosen the brute's hold upon me Master Gilbert crept to my side, and shot it." " Gilbert shot it? " exclaimed the lady incredulously. *' Why, how could he? He knows not how to handle a weapon." " But yes. Mother," interposed the boy, trying to conceal his pleasure at his mother's astonishment. " Desplaus taught me to use the pistol. I do quite well when I use both hands. I do indeed." " Quite well," came from Gaspard, boisterously. " Quite well indeed! He doth excellently well, Madame. He shot the wolf. What man could do more? " " Come! let us hear this from the beginning," said the mother laughing, but the glance that she bestowed upon her son showed full well that she was prepared to believe anything that might be told her of his prowess. " Let us go inside, and while you relate the matter, Gaspard, I will attend to your wounds." " Nay, my lady," uttered the man protestingly as he fol- lowed the comtesse into the great hall of the chateau. " It is not fitting that such as you should wait upon an old dog like me. Let some of the women attend me." " It will give me great pleasure, Gaspard," the Comtesse Julie reassured him with gentle courtesy. " Have you not endangered your life to guard my son? Do you not always watch over him with tenderest care? Suffer me then to wait upon you." The old servitor answered only with a glance of adoration. [24 ] AS THE TWIG IS BENT While his mother ministered to the faithful fellow Lafayette slipped away to be helped into dry clothing. Presently he reentered the hall accompanied by two ladies of aristocratic bearing. They were Madame de Chavaniac and Madame Du Motier, sisters of his father, and therefore his aunts. " And what," queried Madame de Chavaniac when the story of the wolf had been told, " what became of the bounty? An hundred francs, is it not, that is paid for the head of every wolf that is slain? To which of you doth it belong? " " Master Gilbert told the mayor to give it to those whose sheep had been killed by the wolf," Gaspard told her. " That were well enough, but he further said that he would give enough additional to fully recompense the peasants for their losses. Pestel the wretches will rob him of several hundred francs." " Well, if he chooses to give them, what of it? " demanded Madame de Chavaniac sharply. She adored her small nephew. In truth, Gilbert Motier de Lafayette was idolized by his mother and aunts. " Shall not the child do what he wishes with his own? He is a true Lafayette." " Ay! there's the rub," grumbled the man. " A Lafayette, and therefore they take advantage of his soft heart and gener- osity. Did not old Georges waylay him in the park last week to tell him of the death of his cow, well knowing that if he heard the tale the young master would give him another? And did not Moriot run to him when his cottage burned for the wherewithal to build a new one? And so it goes. Pardieu! the boy will be beggared if he keeps it up. And there is Paris and the Court to come. Places where a young man [ 25 ] LAFAYETTE needs much money if he is to stand well. He must not be bereft of future pleasures for the sake of such wretches." " True," admitted Madame de Chavaniac reflectively. " There is something in what you say, Caspar d. Perchance the lad is too generous with the peasants." " Nay," interposed the Comtesse de Lafayette gently. " I would not have him otherwise. As you observed, sister, he is a true Lafayette, and when did a Lafayette ever turn a deaf ear to the needs of his people? The Lafayettes have always been distinguished for justice and kindness to the peasants of their estates. Gilbert but follows the traditions of his race. But fear not, Gaspard. He will have plenty when he is old enough to go to Court. Should his patrimony fail there is still my own estate, and that of my father.'* The Comtesse Julie spoke with assurance, for she was an heiress in her own right to great wealth. At this moment Lafayette, who had been a silent listener to the foregoing conversation, spoke; " I shall not go to Court," he announced with grave decision. " I shall be a soldier as my father was, and I shall try to do great deeds." " A soldier such as your father was," laughed Madame de Chavaniac. " And as his father, and his, and his, so on as far back as the family is known. The Lafayettes have always been soldiers, preferring the life of the camp to one of ease at Court. He is a true Lafayette indeed." " Julie," exclaimed Madame Du Motier, the younger of the two sisters, " do you remember that to-day is the thirteenth of the month?" [26] AS THE TWIG 13 BENT " Yes, Madelaine. I have been thinking of it all day." An expression of melancholy settled upon the comtesse's face, and she pressed her son's hand tightly. " Is not that the day that my father fell in battle, Mother? " " Yes, Gilbert," she answered sadly. " It would give me great happiness to hear the story again. I like to talk of my father." At this Gaspard rose and quietly left the hall. The ladies drew their chairs close together, and with one accord turned their glances toward the portrait of a handsome young man that hung upon the opposite wall. Gilbert drew up a stool by his mother's side, and sank into it with a sigh of content. He never tired of hearing of glorious deeds. *' Now begin, Mother," he commanded. The lady mused a moment, and then began to speak in a low voice: " Your father was very handsome, Gilbert; very handsome, very gallant, very brave. Although he was but twenty-four he had already distinguished himself, and was a Colonel of the Grenadiers of France, and a Chevalier of Saint Louis. "After our marriage we lived very quietly here at the chateau, in a happiness that was all too brief; for war had broken out again between us and our old enemy, England, who had leagued against us with Frederick the Great of Prussia. One day a courier came in haste to tell your father that he must rejoin his troops at once. France had need of him, and by a Lafayette the call of country is never disregarded. It was a sad parting, for I feared that I should never see him again, and then he rode away. He never came back." [ 27 1 LAFAYETTE For a moment she paused, and then controlling her emotion continued: " He fell at Minden, which is in Westphalia, Germany, on the thirteenth of July, 1757. Never forget that date, Gil- bert. He fell gloriously, nobly, fighting for France. It was the death that he would have chosen; for there is no greater one than to die for one's country. But ah me! though I love France, there are times when it seems that our country de- manded too much when she took him. I miss him so." Her voice broke. The boy stooped quickly and kissed her hand. " But you have me, chere maman," he comforted her. " Yes, my child. And I laiow not what I would have done without you. I was prostrated when the news was brought to me of his death, and could not have survived had it not been for your coming. Never shall I forget the joy that the sixth day of September, 1757, brought to my sad heart, for upon that day you were born." " And that," commented the small boy, " was eight years and ten months ago. Mother, I shall be nine years old in just a short time." " Quite a man, are you not, Gilbert? " " Yes, Mother. But tell me: was it a long war? I do not remember whether you told me that." " You have not been told, my son. Only the part concern- ing your father's death. Yes ; the war was long. It was called the Seven Years' War,* and Peace was concluded at Paris only three years ago. France was greatly bereaved, for, being * Called the French and Indian War in America. [28 ] AS THE TWIG IS BENT defeated, she had to cede to England her possessions in the New World." " The New World? Where is that? " "Across the ocean in a country called America. Brave Frenchmen had gone there, explored it, and settled part of it which they called New France, The English also had Colonies in America, and had always cast longing eyes toward ours. Frenchmen are deeply grieved that they had to give to England these possessions; for it is a fair country." " Fairer than France, Mother? " " No country could be that, my son. No; it is not so fair as France, but a wonderful country none the less. There are many who speak with enthusiasm concerning it, but it hath one great drawback to my mind. There are wild people who live there, called savages. They live by hunting and fishing, clothe themselves in skins of animals, wear head-dresses of feathers, and live in tents in the forest. The French made friends with these people, but the English are obliged to go armed all the time for fear of them." The boy's eyes kindled. " How I should like to see them," he exclaimed. "Hear the great red-headed boy!"' ejaculated his aunt, Madame de Chavaniac, laughing. " He hath helped to kill a wolf to-day, therefore he is ready now to do battle with sav- ages. What shall be done with him, Julie? " " He shall hear no more to-day," laughed his mother. " It hath been a day of excitement, and he must have an early supper, and go to bed." * Many of his relatives called him this in playfulness. [ 29 ] LAFAYETTE " Yes, Mother; but tell me one thing more, then I will obey gladly." " What is it, cheri? " " What is a gabelle? " [30] CHAPTER III The Boy Becomes an Observer THE gabelle, my son? " The Comtesse Julie thought for a moment, choosing the words best fitted to the lad's understanding. "It is the salt that each peasant must buy. The King through his ministers sells it to them. A certain amount is set aside for each person, the quantity being determined by the Intendants, and when it is brought to them the people must buy it." "Must, Mother? Why! do they have to buy the salt whether they want to or not?" The lad's large hazel eyes opened wide as his mother answered hesitatingly: " I believe so, Gilbert." " Why, of course they must," interposed Madame de Cha- vaniac, who was a thorough royalist. " The King knows what is best for the people, and for the State." " Yes; but it seems as though he should not make the peo- ple buy anything they did not wish," declared young Lafayette earnestly. " Don't trouble about it, Gilbert. If it were not the proper thing to do the King would not do it. He must have money, [ 31 ] LAFAYETTE and who but the people should pay it? Beside, the people don't mind it; they have not the sensibility about such things that we would have." This was the view of the nobility of the period; the peasants being considered as of such low order of beings as to be incapable of feeling. " Be kind to them, but don't concern yourself too deeply about those not in your own rank." " Why not, Aunt Chavaniac? " Like most boys of his age the 3^oung marquis was a living interrogation point. " Why not? Why not? " laughed the lady. " That was the motto of that Gilbert Motier de Lafayette whose portrait hangs just over your head, Gilbert. He was a Marechal under Charles the Seventh, and while that monarch was still the Dauphin fought under The Maid at Orleans and again at Pa- tay. It was he who won the battle of Beauge in 1421, when the English Duke of Clarence was defeated, and so through him England was compelled to resign hope of a complete con- quest of France." *' And why was his motto Why Not? " queried the lad, turn- ing to gaze at the portrait with interest. *' I do not know why he chose it. You may see it on his sword." " But this says * Cur Non,* Aunt Chavaniac." Lafayette had risen and was now standing before the portrait, gazing at it with eager eyes. " * Cur Non ' is Latin for Why Not," she explained. " You are very like him, Gilbert. More so than you are like your own uncle, Jacques Roch Motier, who " *' Sister, no more to-day, I beg of you," interposed the [32 ] THE BOY BECOMES AN OBSERVER mother gently, foreseeing another story of an ancestor. " It has been an exciting day for him, and Gilbert must not be over- taxed." " True, true," agreed the other lady good-naturedly. " Well, there will be other days, Gilbert, and there will be no lack of anecdotes concerning the Lafayettes. There have been many of them who have served France in some capacity or other." She cast a complacent glance about the hall as she spoke. The apartment was in truth a veritable treasure house from which stories and anecdotes might be drawn without number. It was said of the Lafayettes that they all died in battle, and died young. The walls were hung with portraits of many of these warriors, in cuirasses and helmets, and laced jackets. There was Pons Motier, Seigneur de Lafayette, who fought at Acre in the Holy Land, in 1250. There was Jean who fell at Poictiers. There was Charles, knighted at Rouen. There were marshals and military governors of towns and cities, aides to kings in war, captains and seneschals. Many of them had spent their lives on battle-fields and in camps. Beside the portraits there were suits of glistening armor standing about. There were swords, and numerous trophies of the camp and chase. Even the double-barred iron doors of the hall itself and its lofty protected windows spoke of conflict and warfare. No; there was no lack of material for heroic anecdote or thrilling tale. That the lad's desire was to become a soldier was not a choice of will, but an inevitable consequence of his ancestry and environment. Every impression of his home fostered the instinct for warfare. [ 33 ] LAFAYETTE But if ancient armor, portrait and brilliant achievement of ancestor nourished his inclination toward the life of a soldier there were other things that were making impress upon his re- ceptive mind which were destined to have far-reaching results. One morning the daily ride of the young lordling took him to Brioude, a town some six miles distant from the chateau. It was a glorious morning. The breeze was full of the scent of heather and all dry and sweet summer perfumes, yet fresh and invigorating. From the depths of a deep gorge came the rippling of the waters of the Allier, and in the distance lava- built villages crested the hills. Auvergne was a region of extinct volcanoes, and most of the towns were built of the dark stone, which gave a strong note of black to the delicate greens, and grays, and lavenders of the valleys, characteristic of the Province. Cows grazed on the hillsides, and near the road, fields of grain stood yellowing in the sunshine, all ripe for the cutting. But instead of harvesting the grain the blue bloused peasants were working the road, filling the ruts, smoothing and repairing it generally. Lafayette's eyes surveyed the scene with boyish delight. Far to the north stood the great mountain — the Puy-de-D6me, kingly and majestic, ghostly monarch of Auvergne, over which soft, white clouds hung low in the sapphire sky. " Look, Gaspard," cried the boy suddenly as a light cloud which had been floating by rested for a moment on the summit of the mountain. " The Puy-de-D6me's top is veiled." " That is a sign that it will rain before night, Master Gil- bert," remarked Gaspard, voicing one of the superstitions of the Province. [ 34 1 THE BOY BECOMES AN OBSERVER " Rain? " cried the young marquis. " Well, if it is going to rain that grain ought to be cut. Aunt Chavaniac would scold those people if she saw their fields. I heard her say only yesterday that the grain would spoil if it were left longer with- out cutting. Why don't these people harvest the grain instead of working on the road? " " They cannot, Master Gilbert, until the Royal Corvee is finished." " What is the Corvee, Gaspard? " "It is the toll of labor that the people must give to keep the roads of the kingdom in order. When the King commands that the work is to be done, it must be done." " But if the grain spoils, Gaspard, the people will want for bread." *' That is true, and sometimes it so happens; but it can't be helped. When the King orders the work to be done, it must be done, harvest or no harvest." " But why don't they go to the King, and ask him to let them work the roads after the harvest? " " Oho! " laughed Gaspard, loudly. " Ask the King to let them wait indeed! Why, they would not dare. Beside, they see only the Intendants who force them to do the work, and they would not know how to get to the King. If they were to become troublesome they would be put into prison." " It is no wonder then that they find it hard to pay the gabelle," commented the lad gravely. " If I were one of them I should ask the King to let the roads wait even though I should be put into prison." r 35 1 LAFAYETTE The older man turned, and regarded him strangely. When at length he spoke it was with great gravity. " You speak boldly, Master Gilbert. It hath ever been the way of the Lafayettes to be bold and free of speech, but me- thinks that you are bolder by far than any of your forefathers. It would be wise to learn not to be so outspoken, for the King will not brook comment even from a great lord. The King's will is absolute. There be none who may dispute it." " But if the King be wrong " Gaspard laid his hand on his bridle with a frightened glance around. " Don't speak that way. Master Gilbert," he pleaded. " It might bring harm to you. You know naught of the Bastille, a terrible prison, which often opens to receive those who offend the King, and naught is ever heard of them afterward. The King can do no wrong, Master Gilbert. Remember that al- ways. Whatever he does is right." " Well, but " But Gaspard would hear no more. Accepting the rebuff without comment the boy rode on in silence, but his delicate frame was trembling and his sensitive lip quivered. Thereafter, during his walks and rides he ob- served the peasantry carefully. There were no longer serfs and vassals in France. " By the beginning of the Fifteenth Century had occurred that process of evolution by which the serf was transformed into the villain who could call himself a free man. Nearly all these villains owned pieces of land in their own right. The large number of these small proprietors gave France wealth, strength, and great power of recuperation after her devastating wars. And [ 36 ] THE BOY BECOMES AN OBSERVER it was they who had to bear practically the whole burden of royal taxation, to pay dues to the lord, tithes to the church, toll on rivers, roads, markets, and to render statute service to the crown." The people bent their backs to the burden in misery and discontent. The lad came gradually to see these things without realizing their full meaning, but he was troubled by them. Later his reflections were to bear fruit. " The boy grows too sedate. He reads too much," com- mented his aunt, Madame Du Motier, one day as she observed her nephew who was ensconced in an easy chair poring over a book. " Have you noticed how thoughtful he has been for some time, Julie? " The Comtesse de Lafayette looked up from the embroidery frame before which she was sitting. " He is thoughtful," she agreed. " Too much so, I fear, for one of his age, yet there is no sadness about his gravity. And his health is most excellent. Gaspard tells me that he hath great endurance. Do you remember how your mother fretted because he was such a delicate infant? She could find no fault with him now." " No; and how he grows! She will notice a change even in the short time that she has been away. He bids fair to be long of limb, Julie." "Yes." The fond mother regarded the lad attentively. " What is it that you are reading, my son? " Lafayette held up a small volume for her inspection. " It is a book of letters, Mother. About the English they are, by one M. de Voltaire. I found it among my father's books. Maman, so strange it is. He says that there is great [37 ] LAFAYETTE freedom in thinking and printing in England. Also, that in the City of London there is an Exchange where men of every creed mingle together peacefully and transact business with- out inquiring into one another's religion. Even Jews and Protestants. There are other things very strange and most captivating." " You should not read that book, Gilbert," exclaimed his aunt. " M. de Voltaire is a firebrand who would burn Paris should he return to it. The King is well pleased that he re- mains at the Prussian Court." " It will do him no harm, Madelaine," remarked the boy's mother. " Gilbert is not of an age to be influenced by M. de Voltaire's opinions." " But he should be giving his attention to other things," pro- tested the aunt. " He should learn to bow, and how to enter a drawing-room with ease and elegance. There should be more attention given to his deportment." *' Merci, Aunt Madelaine, I can bow." The young marquis laid aside his book with a boyish laugh, and springing from his chair drew up his slight figure and made a stiff courtesy. " Desplaus has been most explicit in his teaching. ' All bows should be adapted to the object,' he says. Let me see! for one whom one but slightly knows it is so: " He gave a formal salu- tation. " I infuse more warmth into it when I salute you, Mother, or you, madame my aunt, or any dear friend. For an inferior, the bow should be a mere nod, and given with hauteur. For the King or a Prince of the blood, it should be a deep inclination of the body. So ! " He bowed, but the salu- tation lacked servility and lowliness. [ 38 ] THE BOY BECOMES AN OBSERVER " Nay, that is not low enough," commented the lady laugh- ing. " Your obeisance discovers too much of pride for a courtesy to the King. It should be so." She sank to the floor in a deep courtesy of humility. " It is the knees," explained the lad, trying obediently to imitate her. " They will not permit of the lowly inclination, madame my aunt." " Fie! Fie! sister! " exclaimed Madame de Chavaniac enter- ing the room at this juncture. " Give o'er trying to make a courtier of the lad. He will serve the King better by his sword than with his bows. Gilbert, do you know who hath come? " " Is it my grandmother? " cried Lafayette with a cry of joy. " Oh, I know it must be she." " Yes ; it is thy grandmother, Gilbert," spoke a tall woman of proud and majestic bearing who followed Madame de Chavaniac from the hall. She caught the boy to her in a lov- ing embrace, kissing him on both cheeks. " What a great youth you are getting to be. Julie, he hath grown even in the short time that I have been away." " It hath been a long time. Grandmother," protested Lafay- ette. " A whole month, is it not, since you left. I am so glad that you have come back." " And I too, though my visit to Henri's people was most en- joyable. By the way, Gilbert! His gamekeeper caught a young squirrel which he sent to you. Gaspard, bring me the cage." Gaspard left the room, and returned in a few moments with a wire cage which he handed to the boy. [ 39 ] LAFAYETTE " The ones here are all wild, and you may make a pet of this one, Gilbert. Is it not pretty? " Lafayette raised her hand and kissed it. " It is in truth a pretty creature. Grandmother," he said. " I thank you for bringing it to me very much." With this he sat down in front of the cage, and gazed at the little animal which was running from side to side as though seeking a means of exit. " It wants to get out," he cried suddenly. " See how un- happy it is, Grandmother. I like to see them in the trees, or bounding across the grass to bury their nuts. I do not like to see them shut up as this poor thing is." " Such a strange boy," laughed his grandmother. " He speaks as though a squirrel cared whether it were free or caged. It will be happy, Gilbert, if you keep it well fed." But Lafayette shook his head. " All creatures would like to be free. Grandmother. I be- lieve that this squirrel would rather find food for itself than have all the nuts of Chavaniac brought to it here in the cage." " If you feel like that, my son, let it go free," said his grand- mother gently. " The gamekeeper thought it might give you amusement to tame it." " And may I really set it free? " " If you wish, child." " Oh, thank you, Grandmother," he cried joyfully. Running to the entrance of the chateau he opened the door of the cage. The little creature lost not a moment in taking advantage of the opportunity for freedom, but darted through the door, bounded across the terrace, and disappeared in the copse beyond. [ 40 ] CHAPTER IV School Life Begins WINTER succeeded summer; summer came again: so the seasons glided by until two years had passed. Lafayette was now eleven, tall and strong for his age, for through the great care of his mother he had developed a vigorous constitution. The time had come when the fledge- ling must leave the home nest that his wings might be ex- panded and his horizon enlarged. Such a time brings with it much of sadness to women, for they loiow that the tender de- pendency of the boy will soon be replaced by the self-reliance of youth and manhood, and the feminine heart is loth to re- linquish the clinging of the child. So it was with sorrow that the loving women relatives gathered together one morning in the boudoir of the comtesse to discuss the coming change. " Our boy is almost a man, Julie," observed the grand- mother pensively, letting her knitting fall unheeded into her lap. " Yes ; " agreed the boy's mother with a mist of tears in her voice. " And the time has come when he must have the guid- [ 41 ] LAFAYETTE ance of wise men to teach him how to take his proper place among men. Oh, how I dread for him to go away ! " " Fie, iie, Julie! " exclaimed Madame de Chavaniac sharply, taking a vigorous pinch of snuff. *' We have always known that sooner or later he would leave us, and we must be brave. He will go to Paris, of course? " " Of course, my sister. I have written to Father to see about a place for him in the College du Plessis where he will have the companionship of other boys of like rank and station. Abbe Fayon who is in charge of the college is a wise and learned man, and, what is far better, a kindly one as well. We shall make no mistake in placing Gilbert in his charge. I shall go to Paris also and stay with my father and mother so as to be near him. Then, too, I have received a letter from Grandfa- ther who writes that he will aid me in every feasible way to advance his interests." " And at the college he will learn how to become a soldier, will he not? " questioned Madame Du Motier, placing a stitch awry in her embroidery. " Yes. Grandfather says that he will enter him in the army list that he may secure promotion as early as possible." " Well, to be a soldier and go to the wars is but the natural and proper way for a Lafayette to bear his name worthily," commented Madame Du Motier. " He could do naught else and be a Lafayette. The boy has not in his veins a single drop of blood unworthy of his ancestors, and yet sometimes I wish that it were otherwise. For through this very desire to be a soldier and serve the King our family has almost become ex- tinct. I tremble for Gilbert." [ 42 ] SCHOOL LIFE BEGINS " Madelaine! " ejaculated the mother in accents of pam. And then with one accord the affectionate women gave way to tears. When their emotion had spent itself they dried their eyes, and fell to discussing the arrangements necessary to be made. What clothing the boy should take: enumerating the number of coats of cloth and silk ; the waistcoats, the frills, the cambric shirts, and the exact amount of embroidery that would be requisite for each garment; dwelling upon the details with loving concern. And so it came about that one beautiful September day, in 1768, Lafayette bade farewell to the purple shadowed moun- tains and tender green valleys of Auvergne, and, entombing himself with his mother in one of the cumbersome coaches of the period set forth for Paris: Paris, one hundred and twenty leagues away. The young marquis was transported with joy over the pros- pect of the journey, for youth ever delights in change. The highroad led by the swiftly flowing Allier, by scattered wood clumps and spinneys that filled the angles of the river, up hill and down hill ; now crossing barren heaths, now through green dells strewn with delicate ferns and hung with mosses; now through blue depths of forests, and now through rich plains dotted with thatched roofed villages. They travelled by easy stages, for the comtesse did not wish that her son should be fatigTied, stopping often for rest and refreshment at the inns. On the afternoon of the tenth day from the brow of a hill they perceived St. Genevieve, the Invalides, Notre Dame, and a vast sea of houses that spread in every direction, and they knew that Paris lay before them. The sight inspired the postillion to [43 ] LAFAYETTE speed up the horses, and presently they drove into the city en- tering by the Orleans gate, turning toward an ancient part of the town where the College du Plessis was situated. Paris was even then a great city with a population of more than seven hundred thousand people, and Lafayette gazed about him with lively curiosity. The streets were thronged with barefooted gamins, and the air was filled with a babel of noises. There were no sidewalks, and down the centre of most of the highways extended a gutter to help carry off the debris of the streets. The boy's eye was caught by the bridges across the Seine, by the large buildings, one of which — a colossal structure — riveted his attention. He touched his mother's hand gently. " Mother, what is that great building? " he asked. His mother shuddered as she glanced in the direction indi^ cated. " That, Gilbert, is the Bastille, a prison," she replied. " Those towers yonder are those of Notre Dame. The large, fine building to your right is the Invalides, called the most beautiful building in Europe. We are almost at the school, my son. Are you very much wearied? " *' No, Mother. Am I to go there to-night? " " Yes. The Abbe Fayon thought it best that you should enter at once, as the classes are being organized, and to-morrow you could take your place among them. You will miss me, Gilbert?" " So mucK, maman; but I shall study hard so as not to think of it. I shall try to please you with my diligence, Mother." " I know that you will, my son." With this a silence fell [44] SCHOOL LIFE BEGINS between them, for both mother and son were saddened over the parting to come. Through the narrow and tortuous streets of old Paris they drove toward the College du Plessis. This was a college ex- clusively for boys of noble birth, and consisted of a number of buildings grouped round about the Sorbonne, — a learned so- ciety of theologians which had its beginning in the thirteenth century under Saint Louis. As the carriage drew up before the grated gate of the courtyard it swung open, and the tall figure of a man issued therefrom. "Welcome, Comtesse," he said coming to the side of the coach, and bowing profoundly. " Have you had a good jour- ney?" " Very good indeed, Monsieur I'Abbe," responded the com- tesse returning his courtesy. " We are not unduly fatigued because we have been careful not to travel too long on the road without stopping for rest. Mon pere, this is my son; Gilbert, Abbe Fayon who is the preceptor of the school." A quick glance passed between the man and the boy, for each was appraising the other, and Lafayette smiled. He liked the keen, kindly face of the abbe, and the worthy priest was at once taken with the lad. " Will you enter, Comtesse? " he asked, extending his hand to assist the lady to alight. " You would, no doubt, like to see the room assigned to the Marquis, and some of the arrange- ments of the school." "With pleasure, Monsieur I'Abbe." Comtesse de Lafayette and her son descended from the carriage, and followed the abbe through the gate into the courtyard. There were noisy and [ 45 ] LAFAYETTE joyous groups of collegians standing abont the yard ; some were playing peg top, others hop-scotch, and still others walked about with books under their arms, or conversed under the trees. Lafayette surveyed the scene with interest. " I shall like it here. Mother," he said suddenly. " I shall endeavor to distinguish myself in my studies." The abbe smiled as though pleased by the words, and the mother clasped her son's hand tightly. " And you will succeed, Gilbert, I am sure," she answered. The tour of inspection was soon made, and, well content that she was leaving him in good hands, Julie de Lafayette took her departure. A few days sufficed to initiate the young mar- quis into the routine of the school which, like most schools of the time, esteemed deportment of the first importance. Special attention was given to dancing, writing, drawing, and the ability to converse wittily and with apt repartee. Fencing and vaulting were considered essential as well as riding with graceful skill and knowledge about the management of the horse. In books, heraldry and the Latin masters, — Csesar, Sallust, Terence, Virgil, Cicero, — were carefully studied. The pupils were obliged to translate from French into Latin, and from Latin into French. Though the boj^s were all of high rank they M^^ere not unduly pampered, and the greatest care was taken of their health. The rooms in which they slept were very small, very simply furnished, and very stuffy, although there were holes cut in the doors for the admission of air. The pres- ence of other lads served as a stimulus to Lafayette, and he plunged into study with avidity. [ 46 ] SCHOOL LIFE BEGINS The comtesse, his mother, took up her residence with her par- ents in Paris, and in order to further her son's interests had herself presented at Court. At the same time her grandfather, the Comte de La Riviere and de Ploeuck, lieutenant-general and captain of the second company of the Royal Mousque- taires, enrolled him as a member of that body. It was the par- ticular duty of this company of soldiers to protect the person of the King, and it was composed solely of the descendants of the noblest families of France. One day, several weeks after the lad's entrance into the college, an under teacher announced that he would give a premium for the best essay upon a perfect courser. " I shall try to win that prize," declared the young marquis to himself. " Then I shall send it to my mother that she may know how well I am improving my time." Special attention was given in the school to writing the French language clearly and forcibly, and Lafayette was rapidly acquiring a pellucid and concise diction. So now he sat himself down to write about a horse in his best manner. He described a finely formed and spirited charger with small head, delicate nostrils, and large, intelligent eyes gleaming with fire. Eager and ready stood the beautiful animal waiting only a word from its master to dash away at speed. But when the rider sprang to his back he did not give the word, but struck the horse with his whip. Smarting under the lash the spirited crea- ture reared, and threw the rider. The teacher shook his head when he read the essay. " It would not be a perfect horse, if it threw its rider, my lord," was his comment. [47] LAFAYETTE " But see, Monsieur," spoke the lad eagerly. " It was be- cause of the injustice. The horse needed but the word to go, and he would have been off. Instead, the master struck him. He did right not to submit to such unfairness." " Nay ; a perfect animal would submit to the blow," con- tended the teacher. " The will of the master should be the law even though it were unjust." " But no, Monsieur; its spirit would be broken were it to take a blow tamely, and therefore it could not then be a per- fect animal." The teacher laughingly closed the subject, and the prize was awarded to another boy. " I was right, was I not. Mother? " questioned Lafayette when next his mother came to see him. " I think so, Gilbert," she replied thoughtfully. " It seems so to me, and yet your teachers are wise men who should know best. My son, where did you get such liberal ideas? I did not teach them to you." " But yes. Mother; in part, at least. For it was you who taught me to consider others, and also that animals governed by kindness will render one the best service. Is it not so? " " It is true that I taught you those things, Gilbert, but your ideas go further. They are far more liberal than any I have ever held." Lafayette laughed. " Oh, Mother, I cannot explain. I know not why I feel as I do, or where the ideas came from. Perchance it is from the air because there are other boys here who have the same thoughts and feelings that I have. But there are those who think that liberty means freedom to do as they please without [ 48 ] SCHOOL LIFE BEGINS regard for the rights of others, and so they break the rules in spite of the fact that such regulations are just and wise. Then they are punished." "They do not chastise you, do they, Gilbert?" she asked quickly. This was the usual punishment of the times. " No, Mother; for I am obedient. Where there are so many boys there should be regulations for government that there may be order, and thus result in good for all. Because I be- lieve that the rules are for my good I obey them. It would be dangerous," he ended quietly, " to attempt to chastise me." " Gilbert," she cried and caught him to her, affrighted by this glimpse of his spirit. " Oh, I do not know you when you speak thus. You who are so gentle. I fear, I fear " Lafayette laughed reassuringly. "Fear nothing. Mother. There won't anything happen. Abbe Fayon and I are great friends, and I am fond of all the teachers. As I said, I observe all the regulations carefully, so do not be afraid. Naught will happen unless I infringe them." But the comtesse went away puzzled, as many another mother has been, by the thoughts and views of the man-child she had brought into the world. Two happy years glided by. The boy studied diligently, achieving some successes, and interrupting his studies only on holidays when he attended the reviews of the Mousquetaires. And then, one day a cabriolet drove hastily to the grated en- trance of the school, and Gaspard alighted and clamored fran- tically for admittance. " Bring the Marquis de Lafayette," he cried when he had entered. [ 49 ] LAFAYETTE " What is it, Gaspard? " asked the boy as he came to the old servitor in response to the summons. Gaspard swept him into his embrace as he had been wont to do in Auvergne. " Oh, Master Gilbert," he cried brokenly. " Your mother, my dear lady, is no more. She died this morning." And he burst into passionate weeping. [ 50 J CHAPTER V At Versailles IT is said that one blow is always followed by another; so the grief-stricken boy had scarcely recovered from the effect of the announcement of the death of his mother than he was overwhelmed by the tidings that his mother's father, Joseph Yves Thibauld Hyancinthe, Marquis de La Riviere, had ended his days. Lafayette was not long permitted to indulge in the luxury of woe. By the deaths of his mother and grandfather he be- came possessed of immense wealth, which, being entirely at his own control, surrounded him with a crowd of parasites and flat- terers whose constant attendance upon him retarded the prog- ress of his studies. His high rank and great riches were such that he was too important a personage to be allowed to remain away from the Court, so the period of mourning had barely elapsed when he received a friendly intimation that His Majesty, Louis the Fifteenth, would be graciously pleased to have him pay his respects. A consultation was immediately held by his guardians, M. de Segur and the Comte de La Riviere — his mother's grand- [ 51 ]. LAFAYETTE father, when it was decided that the young marquis should pur- sue his studies at the Academy of Versailles where he might also enjoy the benefits of attendance at Court. Accordingly, one fine summer's day, a little more than a year after the death of his mother, in company with Comte de La Riviere he set forth for Versailles where the King held his Court. The Court had formerly been held in Paris, but Louis the Fourteenth, great-grandfather of Louis the Fifteenth who was King at this time, had wearied of the Palace of the Tuileries; so he had transformed the hunting box of the thirteenth Louis at Versailles into a superb palace, incomparable for splendor — a habitation for a deity rather than for a man — and its marshes into wonderful gardens. Then, tiring of the dazzling magnificence of the place he had built the great Trianon, sit- uated in the park of the Palace, that he might breathe more freely and enjoy a little retirement. The Trianon, but little less in splendor than Versailles, seemed yet too pompous to the Grand Monarque's successor; so Louis the Fifteenth caused the Petit Trianon to be built. This was to be the residence of the Dauphin and Dauphine whose present apartments were in the Trianon. The clock of the Church of St. Louis was striking four as Lafayette and his grandfather drove into the Place d'Armes before the Palace at Versailles. The valet let down the step of the carriage, the comte alighted, and turned to his grandson with a charming smile. " The sun shines gloriously, Gilbert. Let us hoj)e that it is an augur of good fortune to you upon your introduction at Court." [ 52 ] AT VERSAILLES " Thank you, Grandfather," answered the boy smiling. " The Palace is magnificent, is it not? Still I prefer my own chateau at Chavaniac. There is a natural grandeur there that seems far preferable to me than this gorgeousness." " Spoken like a philosopher, Gilbert, but His Majesty likes neither philosophy nor philosophers. Therefore, have a care about expressing such opinions. Naturally every man prefers his own home, but the King wishes that a residence at his Pal- ace should be esteemed above all else." And the comte, who was a polished courtier of the old school, led the way through the galleries of the palace to the ante- chamber of the private cabinet of the King. As the doors opened Lafayette saw a double row of bowed heads, for the comte was high in favor and the courtiers gave incense to those who stood well with the King. With the manner of one privileged to seek His Majesty when he chose Comte de La Riviere made his way through the throng of syco- phants to the door of the private cabinet of Louis. The valet de chambre opened to him immediately. " Hue, we wish to have the honor of paying our respects to His Majesty," said the comte. " His Majesty is with the minister, M. de Choiseul, in the council chamber, my lord comte. There is business of state." " I see; then we will await his return." " But, my lord," spoke the valet quickly, " have you not seen M. de Segur? " "No. Why?" " He was closeted with the King this morning with reference to the presentation of your grandson. His Majesty said that 153 ] LAFAYETTE the young man was from so illustrious a family that he should be presented publicly not only to himself but to the Dauphin and Dauphine also. Therefore, he decided to receive you this evening at the jeu de roi." A look of pleasure swept the comte's countenance, " His Majesty does us great honor," he said. " Truly is he called the ' Well Beloved,' for he seeks always to do that which is most agreeable to his subjects. We shall not fail to be at the jeu de roi. Hue. I thank you. Come, Gilbert." With this he took Lafayette's arm, and led him from the room. The lad turned toward him in bewilderment. " What is it, Grandfather? " he asked. " We are to attend the King's Game, Gilbert, to which only the royal family and those of the courtiers whom he honors are invited. It will introduce you at once into intimate relations with the King's family that will be of great value to you. It is most gratifying, mon cher. And now we will go to my own apartments here, where you may rest while I seek M. de Segur. Ah, here we are!" They had threaded many intricate passages while he was explaining the matter, and as he finished speaking he opened a door at the end of a long gallery, and ushered the youth into a handsome suite of apartments. " Make yourself at home here, Gilbert," he said. " Ring if you wish anything. My valet is in attendance. You will not be lonely, will you? I shall not be long." " Oh, stay as long as you wish, Grandfather. I sHall find amusement." Lafayette threw himself into an easy chair as he spoke. " If you are long, I may wander about the park." [ 54 ] AT VERSAILLES " As you will, my son. Au revoir then for a time." " Au revoir, Grandfather." Left alone in the apartment Lafayette soon wearied of the gold, the marble, the perfumes, the carpets and the hangings of the room. His own tastes were more simple, and the mag- nificence, in which there was more of splendor than comfort, palled upon him. Rising, he went to one of the windows, and looked out upon the park of Versailles, studded with marble statues and fountains. Beyond were the dense and lofty tops of the trees, and further on were green plains and the blue horizon of the neighboring mountains. *' I think," mused the boy, " that I would prefer to pass the time of waiting out under those trees rather than in here." Like everyone who inhabited the palace even for a short time he felt the inconvenience of grandeur and was oppressed as even its creator, Louis the Fourteenth, had been. So with a word to the attendant, he left the room, and, after wandering through many corridors, at length found his way into the park. Leisurely he strolled through the wonderful grounds, paus- ing sometimes to admire a statue or some marvellous arrange- ment of shrubs or plants. While traversing a winding alley of evergreens clipped into the form of a hedge, bordered on each side by beds of roses and opening upon a beautiful lawn, he heard the sound of merry voices, and perceived a party of young people clad as shepherds and shepherdesses dancing a quadrille upon the green. Because he also was young and the waiting tedious, the boy went quickly toward them, the thick shrubbery of the trees concealing his advance. The [ 55 ] LAFAYETTE party was very lively, and sang as they danced an air from one of Rousseau's operas: * ' Come dance with me beneath the elms ; Young maiden, come be merry. ' ' Lafayette's attention was at once attracted to a tall, slender young lady of stately mien who was the gayest of all the merry party. She was but a few years older than himself, very beautiful, with golden hair, blue eyes and an arch expression of countenance that was charming. As the air was finished she cried gayly: "Mes amis, there is but time for one more game before we must return to Trianon. What shall it be? " " Let it be Blind Man's Buff, sister," cried a shepherd, a youth of Lafayette's own age. " Very well, brother. Will you be the catcher? " " By all means," answered the youth merrily. " Do you blind my eyes, sister." Laughingly the young lady took her shepherdess scarf and bound it tightly about his eyes. " Now wait until I count three before you start to catch anyone," she cried, beginning almost immediately to count: " One, two, three ! " And away she ran with the youth in close pursuit. Hither and thither darted the players, the girls with little shrieks of laughter, the young men with gladsome shouts as the catcher would come near to them, or when they eluded his clasp. Lafayette had drawn nearer and nearer until he stood just without the circle behind a clump of evergreens. [ 56] AT VERSAILLES The catcher seemed to single out the young lady who had attracted the boy's attention as his victim, and made deter- mined efforts to catch her. Closer and closer to her he came. In the effort to elude him she darted toward the clump of ever- greens where Lafayette was standing, stumbled, and would have fallen had he not stepped forth quickly and caught her. Instantly she recovered herself, and turned to thank him. " That was well done. Monsieur," she said simply and with dignity. " I would have fallen had it not been for you. I thank you." " It gave me great pleasure to be of service, Mademoiselle," answered Lafayette, with the delightful manner for which he afterward became noted. A flicker of amusement crossed the young lady's counte- nance. " You are new to the Court, are you not? " she questioned, regarding him earnestly. " I seem not to know your face." " But yes. Mademoiselle. I have just arrived. His Maj- esty will receive me this evening at the jeu de roi, where I hope also to have the honor of being presented to Her Royal High- ness." " In her name I bid you welcome to the Court, Monsieur. I thank you again for the service you rendered me, for I like not to fall. Au revoir then until the jeu de roL'* During this colloquy the other members of the party had suspended the game, and stood waiting the lady's pleasure. Just as she turned toward them a cry went up suddenly. " Madame Noailles is coming! Madame Noailles is com- ing!" [ 57 ] LAFAYETTE Instantly there was a scamper for the shrubbery as the young people sought to hide from the eyes of the First Lady of Honor who was a martinet for etiquette, and who was strongly against anything approaching jollity among the Court ladies. " Run, sister," cried the catcher, snatching the bandage from his eyes. " I will detain her until you can escape." " That tiresome Madame Etiquette," exclaimed the young lady petulantly. " She is always spoiling sport. Oh, where shall I go? " " This way, Mademoiselle," cried Lafayette, who could nof help laughing at her plight. " Behind me is an alley which will conceal you as you run. If your brother will detain the lady I will guard this way so that no one shall enter." " Thank you again. Monsieur," she cried, and then ran quickly into the alley through which Lafayette had approached the party. He turned to look curiously at the lady whose approach had created such consternation. She was an elderly woman, very tall, exceedingly stately and dignified in manner. She bent low in a deep courtesy as the youth whom the young lady had called brother hastened toward her. " Is Her Royal Highness here, my lord? " she asked. " The Princesses are in her antechamber waiting to be received." " She is not here, Madame," he returned. " But I will seek her and inform her that the Princesses wait." The lady bowed deeply and retired. The youth waited un- til she had disappeared in the shrubbery and then came back to where Lafayette was standing. [58] AT VERSAILLES " We must go after the Dauphiness, and tell her that my aunts await her," he said. " They are ill-natured if they are kept waiting. I should not wish Marie to incur Iheir dis- pleasure." "Was that the Dauphiness?" questioned Lafayette in amaze. " I called her Mademoiselle." The other laughed. " That will do no harm," he said with a cynicism remark- able in one so young. " A married woman always likes to be taken for a young girl. She will not hold it against you." " And you, my lord, are " " Comte d'Artois, the Dauphin's brother," said the boy. " And are you the Marquis de Lafayette? I heard the young Comte de Segur speak of you, saying that you would appear at the Court to-day. Are you to stay at Versailles? " " Yes ; from now on. I am to study at the academy. And so you know Phillippe? " "Yes; we are in the same riding school. You must join us. We have a lively crowd. That is, we are all gay but my brother, Proven9e. He is rather surly, and prefers to trans- late Lucretius to having sport with us. Do you ride? " " A little," answered Lafayette modestly. " We will find the Dauphiness, and then get Segur," said the comte, taking hold of Lafayette's arm. "He is at Tria- non. Let's look him up." " But, my lord, I must go back to the Palace," protested Lafayette. " My grandfather will be uneasy if he returns and does not find me." " Let us get Segur, and we both will go back with you," [ 59 ] LAFAYETTE insisted the comte, and Lafayette accompanied him without further demur. The pavilion of Trianon was soon reached, and Comte d'Artois led the way to the first story overhead. The noise of a turning lathe attracted Lafayette's attention, and in re- sponse to his glance of interrogation the comte said laughingly : " My brother, the Dauphin, is amusing himself by making a lock. He is never so happy as when he is at the forge black- smithing, or making a lock for some coffer. You may see him through yonder open door. He won't mind if you look." Thus reassured concerning the propriety of the act, Lafay- ette glanced in the direction indicated. Through a door open- ing upon the corridor he beheld a young man about eighteen, file in hand, turning a lathe. He was of fair complexion, with a weak, irresolute mouth, retreating forehead, and, though so young, with a pronounced double chin. He was dressed as a workman, with velvet breeches with leather facings at the pockets like those worn by blacksmiths and locksmiths. He wore gray stockings, and shoes with copper buckles, a woolen cap such as was affected by work- men, and his hands were greasy and dirty. The room presented the appearance of a forge, having a bellows, hearth, anvil, bench, and vise. Every imaginable thing that locksmiths use was within easy reach. Lafayette gazed with astonishment at the future King of France who, with leather apron, sleeves turned up, and file in hand, was so absorbed in his work that he did not deign to glance at them. " My brother, Proven9e, studies Tacitus and Lucretius," laughed Comte d'Artois. " My brother, the Dauphin, makes [ 60 ] AT VERSAILLES locks or wields a bellows for amusement ; while I " He paused, and glanced at his companion, laughing. " While you, my lord? " asked Lafayette, laughing also. "I? Oh, I amuse myself with gayety and happiness. I am young, and I enjoy my youth. My brothers are young also, but they seem not to realize that youth is for joy and pleasure. Come, we will leave Berry to his own devices, and first see if the Dauphiness is safe within her own rooms. Then for Seg-ur." The lady in waiting at the Dauphiness' apartments assured them that Her Royal Highness was within, but was at present closeted with her aunts, the Princesses. Comte d'Artois gave a sigh of relief. " Then we will get Segur at once," he said. " I was wor- ried about my sister. She is young, full of fun and likes to frolic, but all this is frowned on by the ladies of the Court. Some of them would forgive a crime sooner than a breach of etiquette. Marie has a hard time with them." The young Comte de Segur, Lafayette's friend and kins- man, a youth of his own age, was soon located, and the three returned together to the Palace through the shady avenue leading from Trianon to Versailles. The Comte de La Riviere was awaiting his grandson in the apartment, so the young men paid their respects and left. " You have already made acquaintance with the Dauphin's brother, I see, Gilbert," he remarked with a pleased smile. " How did it come about? " Lafayette related the circumstances. " Her Royal Highness is young and thoughtless," com- [ 61 ] LAFAYETTE mented the old courtier. " The etiquette of the Court irks her at times, and she sets it at naught frequently, much to the annoyance of the King's sisters and Madame Noailles, who is supposed to instruct her in the French forms, and whom the Dauphine has nicknamed Madame Etiquette. She came from the Court of Austria, you know, where the customs are much simpler. Ignore the incident, Gilbert, unless Her Royal Highness herself refers to it. And now for supper, and then to the King's Game. M. de Segur and his son will join us later.'* [62 1 CHAPTER VI Lafayette Goes A-Wooing A BRILLIANT and numerous assembly filled the King's apartments. The saloon where the game was to be played was full of persons of the highest rank. It seemed to the boy as he entered that he was in the midst of a wonderful rainbow, so varied were the colorings. Fountains threw their spray aloft, and thousands of candles reflected the radiance of diamonds, rubies and sapphires of the glittering throng. It was a magnificent scene, dazzling to youth, but Lafayette's eyes were centered upon the man who stood erect at the further end of the hall, the King — Louis, the Fifteenth of the name. At this time Louis was past sixty years, but his eye waa full of life and the smile that played about his lips was that of a man in his prime. He was richly dressed, his lace and the buckles of his shoes and garter alone being worth a king's ransom. The Dauphin and Dauphiness, the King's three daughters, the Princesses, and his gi-andsons, the Comtes de Provence and d'Artois, made a group near him. The monarch leaned forward slightly as the Comte de La Riviere led his grandson to him. [ 62 ] LAFAYETTE " Your Majesty," he said, bowing low, " permit me the honor of presenting to you my grandson, the son of an officer who fell at Minden in your service. Sire, the Marquis de Lafayette." " Welcome to Versailles, Monsieur de Lafayette," spoke the King affably. " It gives us great pleasure to see you at the Court." Lafayette, as he had been instructed, bent his knee and kissed the King's hand. Louis raised him graciously, and turning toward the Dauphin and Dauphine said; " Monsieur and Madame, this is the Marquis de Lafayette, the son of a well beloved officer of ours who fell fighting for France. Be kind to him for his father's sake. I make no doubt but that we shall soon have to be good to him for his own." The Dauphin bowed gravely without speaking, but Marie Antoinette extended her hand with a charming smile. " Welcome, Monsieur de Lafayette," she said. " You were pleased to render me some service this afternoon, and I shall not prove ungrateful. Comte," turning courteously toward the Comte de La Riviere, " what say you? Do you not think that this grandson of yours would fill worthily the office of page to me? " " Oh, Madame," murmured the comte delightedly, " you are kindness itself. It is the thing above all others that I would have chosen for him," and he kissed the beautiful hand that she held out to him. After this, in proper order, Lafayette was presented to the King's daughters, to His Majesty's sister, to the Comte de [ 64 ] LAFAYETTE GOES A-WOOING Proven9e, the studious brother of the Dauphin, and to all the dignitaries and illustrious personages of the assembly. Thus the boy found himself part and parcel of the brilliant Court at Versailles. His duties as one of the pages were not onerous. He was merely expected to be in attendance when the Dauphiness required him; to be one of the party of young ladies and gentlemen who made up the royal lady's suite; to be always ready to enter heart and soul into masquerades, quadrilles, merrymakings, or any frivolity with which Marie Antoinette loved to amuse herself. In return, through her influence, he was made a commissioned officer in the Loyal Mousquetaires ; for, through all the delights and temptations of his effeminate surroundings, the youth never lost the vision of a military life and the desire to distinguish himself in some enterprise that might be worthy of his sword rather than to emblazon his name with glory. One day, some months after his entree into Court, he was sitting in his own apartment engaged in a Greek exercise when M. de Segur and Comte de La Riviere were announced. *' Gilbert," spoke the former after a little preliminary con- versation, " the Due d'Ayen wishes you for a son-in-law." The fourteen-year-old boy shrugged his shoulders. " Oh well," he said, *' one must marry some time, I suppose. As well one of the Due's daughters as anyone." " Better, we think," returned his guardian, laughing. " It would be a most satisfactory alliance. The Due's high rank, his standing at Court, and his wealth would make a marriage into his family very desirable." " I have seen his daughters," was the boy's comment. " I r 65 ] LAFAYETTE thought them rather quiet little things. Which of the four have you chosen? " " The second daughter, Mademoiselle Marie Adrienne Fran^oise de Noailles. It must of necessity be she because the eldest daughter, Louise, is to be betrothed to her cousin, the Vicomte de Noailles. The Due explained all this when he came to us." Lafayette looked up with quick interest, for the Vicomte de Noailles was one of his closest friends. " Why, that would make Louis my brother-in-law," he ex- claimed. " I should like that." " We thought you would, Gilbert. And now " M. de Segur paused and for the first time exhibited some embarrass- ment. " Yes, Monsieur? " The youth regarded him expectantly, and then asked abruptly: " And when do you wish me to marry this young lady? " It was usual for parents or guardians to arrange marriages, so the idea of questioning the proceeding did not occur to him. " That is the trouble." Comte de La Riviere looked at M. de Segur and the latter returned his glance. " We don't know. You see, Gilbert, while the Due d'Ayen is most eager to have you for a son-in-law, the Duchesse is not. In fact, she objects to you because you have so much money." " ' Objects because I have so much money? ' " repeated the boy in blank amazement. " How very singular! I did not know that one could have too much for a woman." By which cynicism it may be seen that Court life was beginning to bear fruit with Lafayette. r 66 1 LAFAYETTE GOES A- WOOING " The Duchesse d'Ayen is a most remarkable woman," com- mented his grandfather. " She fears that so yomig a man as you, with such a fortune in his own control, is in great danger through the temptations of the Court and the City." "But it is extraordinary!" observed Lafayette again. " The daughter of such a mother ought to make a good wife, and I should like my wife to be good as well as amiable." " We believe that you will find Mademoiselle Adrienne to be possessed of both qualities," said M. de Segur. " The Duchesse is a woman of great piety, a little too austere perhaps to suit her husband, and she has brought up her daughters to be fervently religious and full of the domestic virtues. Be- cause the marriage will be so suitable in every respect, the con- nection advantageous to both parties, we wish you to cultivate the acquaintance of the Duchesse so as to disabuse her mind of any fears regarding you. Once she knows you as we do, her objections will vanish." So Lafayette went a-courting. Not, however, to the young girl whom he wished to make his wife, but to her mother. For, as the old couplet has it, "He who would the daughter win Must with the mother first begin." The family of de Noailles was of great rank and conse- quence, and a power at Court. The house had eight centuries of soldiers, priests who became cardinals, marechals or ad- mirals of national importance and European renown. The chateau in Paris, the family mansion, was a sumptuous resi- dence of such vast extent that it seemed too palatial for a [ 67 ] LAFAYETTE private dwelling. It was called the Hotel de Noailles, and was situated near the Palace of the Tuileries. In it were suites of rooms for several families, for troops of guests, for vast retinues of servants; all decorated with astonishing richness. The inner rooms faced on a garden so large that a small hunt could be carried on within its confines, with fox, horses and hounds. Magnificent trees waved their branches above the gardens and arbors. The wealth of the family being princely the Comtesse Adrienne would be one of the greatest heiresses in France. Truly the match would be of advantage to both sides as Lafayette was regarded as one of the catches of the time. The Duchesse d'Ayen was an unusual woman for the period. Of great piety she cared nothing for the attractions of the Court, although she sometimes frequented it to please her husband, who was an accomplished courtier, and to show her devotion to her Sovereign. She was full of the domestic vir- tues, and was passionately devoted to her four little daughters. Her refusal to sanction a betrothal between Lafayette and Adrienne had caused an estrangement between her and the Due, who was anxious to secure the youth for a son-in-law, and who did not share her scruples about the boy's riches. So Lafayette found himself subjected to a most searching examination when he called at the Hotel de Noailles. Per- haps it was because the lady was so frigid toward him that it impelled him to exert himself to the utmost to win her regard, but certain it is that he never tried to charm anyone as he did his future mother-in-law. In the end he succeeded. After a few months the Duchesse [ 68 1 LAFAYETTE GOES A-WOOING became convinced of the sterling worth of his character, and consented to the marriage, much to the delight of her husband. Like a wise woman, however, she stipulated that on account of the extreme youth of the boy and girl, — Lafayette being fourteen and Adrienne only twelve, — they should wait for two years before marrying; that they should reside at the Hotel de Noailles for two years longer; that both should finish their education, and last that the little girl should not be informed of the engagement for at least a year to come. These condi- tions having been assented to, she yielded unconditionally to Lafayette's charm of manner, and took him into her heart, giving him thereafter all the tender affection of a mother. She also permitted the young people to meet occasionally in the presence of the Abbe Fayon, who was still the boy's tutor, and Mademoiselle Marin, governess to the four daughters. For a time these visits were rare, as the mother did not wish their education to suffer, and feared that more frequent meet- ings might distract their minds from their studies. Naturally, Lafayette was curious as to what sort of a dis- position his future wife possessed, and so he tried, but vainly, to draw her into conversation. The small girl, however, was very shy and responded to his sallies in monosyllables, but often he found her large eyes fixed upon him in the question- ing gaze of childhood. The girl was too young to reveal her real worth and nobility, and it was years after his marriage before Lafayette discovered what a rare character Mademoi- selle Adrienne was. However, he saw that she was affection- ate and religious. One day, nearly a year after the engagement had been [ 69 ] LAFAYETTE sanctioned, Lafayette presented himself at the Hotel de Noailles for his customary visit. It was a beautiful day, so a walk in the garden was permitted, attended as usual by the tutor and the governess. The surveillance of the latter be- came irksome to the lad. " Does she never sleep. Mademoiselle? " he asked of Adri- enne. " I do not believe that she has winked her eyes once in the last half hour." *' But yes, Monsieur," answered the little girl, laughing. " She sleeps at night, and sometimes Louise and I have caught her nodding over her knitting." " I think," spoke the youth with crafty enthusiasm, " that a woman never looks so well as when she is knitting." *' Do you think so, Monsieur? " asked Adrienne timidly. " I do," he told her with emphasis. To his amazement, at the next visit the governess carried her knitting with her into the garden, but then Adrienne did also. The boy looked at her and smiled. " Come," he said to himself, " we shall do well. She wishes to please me." Then, turning toward his tutor, he remarked: " iNIonsieur I'Abbe, have you observed what a charming woman Mademoiselle Marin is?" The abbe's eyes twinkled, and he favored the boy with a glance of comprehension. " Very charming indeed. Monsieur," he agreed gravely. " But what would you? A priest must admire at a distance." Nevertheless he crossed the walk to where the lady sat a short distance from them knitting. She glanced up at him as the priest made some remark, and for a moment her atten- [ 70 ] THE YOUNG GIRL GLANCED AT HIM QUICKLY LAFAYETTE GOES A-WOOING tion was taken from the young couple. It was but a moment, but it was enough for Lafayette. Seizing the little girl's hand he kissed it, whispering tenderly: " Dearest Adrienne! " The young girl glanced at him quickly with a startled look, and for a second the two gazed into each other's eyes. Then her glance faltered, her eyelids fell, and a deep flush suffused her face. In that moment love was born; a love that was to endure through all the trials to come. I 71 1 CHAPTER VII And So They Were Married THE acquaintance between the two ripened from this time forth. The eldest daughter, Louise, was mar- ried to her cousin, the Vicomte de Noailles, and upon that day Adrienne de Noailles was told that she was to be the wife of Lafayette. The time of probation seemed long to their young hearts, but it passed at length. As the wedding day drew near the youth and the maiden were permitted sometimes to converse in low tones during sweet half hours when the abbe and the governess nodded over a bit of gossip or interested themselves in the lady's knitting, with which Mademoiselle now invariably appeared. Like most men Lafayette was amazed by the preparations deemed necessary for the marriage. He was worldly wise enough to know that the nuptials of persons of their rank could not take place without much provision being made for them, and that they were not to be disposed of lightly, but he had not realized how many ceremonies and consultations the matter involved. These seemed innumerable, and were hedged about with the thousand niceties of the etiquette of the [ 72 ] AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED day. The family of the de Noailles was one of the most powerful as well as the richest in France, linked by marriage with others equally celebrated. The man who was to marry the daughter of this proud race was one of the foremost nobles of the Court, for Lafayette did not lack in worldly goods or influence. Therefore, only the marriage of royalty could eclipse its state and gi-andeur.' " From the time the contract was signed to the day before the marriage it was necessary each day to make the most cere- monious of toilets — a new one for each occasion — in which to receive the visits of ceremony usual at this time. All Paris passed in rainbow procession. The drudgery commenced at six o'clock in the evening and was finished, or rather continued, by a grand supper. The bride-to-be, garbed elaborately, erect as a ramrod and terribly bored, was seated by her mother, and by her was presented to each arrival, who never failed to make at least two or three reverences, which etiquette demanded should be as ceremoniously returned by the bride elect." La- fayette was not expected to be present at all these functions, but his poor little fiancee was not spared a single ordeal. Those he did attend he found wearing in the extreme. " Peste! " he exclaimed one evening to his friend and pro- spective brother-in-law, the Vicomte de Noailles, as the two youths stood for a moment together in the grand salon of the Hotel de Noailles during one of these receptions, *' I shall be glad when it is all over. Look how fatigued my poor little Adrienne is, Louis. She is almost ready to swoon. I wish there was not so much ceremony to this marrying." * " Life of Madame de Lafayette and Her Family," by M. Crawford. [ 73 ] LAFAYETTE " Louise and I felt the same about it when we had to go through it before our marriage last year," laughed the vicomte. " But, be brave, mon ami. It only comes once in a lifetime, and your wedding day is almost here." " For which let us be thankful," exclaimed Lafayette, de- voutly. " But, Louis, this whole thing is wrong. We dine sumptuously every day, and have great feasts or banquets every evening ; and yet hundreds of people are dying in France for lack of food. The entire social system is wrong when such conditions exist." '" Ma foi, mon cJier! don't quote Jean Jacques Rousseau's opinions on an occasion like this, for the feasting to-night is part of your wedding celebration." *' But wrong none the less," insisted Lafayette earnestly. " There should be a new order of things." *' That there are inequalities and injustice, I grant," replied his friend gravely. " But they have existed for years and years, and, Gilbert, I don't know how they can be changed; do you? " "No, Louis; would that I did." At this juncture the supper was announced and the two young men were obliged to discontinue their conversation. Lafayette's wedding morn dawned at length. The eleventh day of April, 1774, was a beautiful day, and all the world of Nature was fair and smiling. The Hotel de Noailles was in gala attire, and its gardens festive with gay blooms of tulips, and daffodils, with snowy white blossoms of marronniers, and softest green of tender almonds. All Nature seemed to breathe a benediction on the young couple who proceeded [ 74 ] AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED in solemn state to the Church of Saint Roch, where they were to be united in marriage by Lafayette's cousin, the Vicaire General de L'archeveehe de Paris, Abbe Paul de Murat. The great occasion was over at last, and the young people took up their abode at the Hotel de Noailles in accordance with the prenuptial agreement. The young husband mur- mured at this arrangement. He wanted his own home and his bride to himself. This was natural, but the matter was viewed otherwise by the Duchesse d'Ayen, who was inexorable in her demand for the fulfillment of the promise that they would stay with her. The little bride said not a word, being still under the maternal influence ; so, with the best grace possible, Lafay- ette yielded at length to the arrangement, paying eight thou- sand livres a year as his share of the expenses of the establish- ment. At this time he was sixteen and a half years of age, while his girl wife was but a few months past fourteen. Both husband and wife continued their studies. Adrienne under her governess, and Lafayette at the Academy of Ver- sailles. By this time, through the influence of the Due d'Ayen, his father-in-law, who was Marechal du Camp et Armees du Roi, Lafayette was transferred from the Mousque- taires Noirs to the " regiment de Noailles," commanded by his cousin by marriage, Prince de Poix. It was a happy period for Lafayette, although his studies, regiment, and attendance at Court did not permit of his being much with his young wife. He took her family at once into his heart and affections, and they in turn lavished upon him the tenderness due to a loved son. [ 75 1 LAFAYETTE But Versailles was beginning to pall upon Lafayette. The clear-visioned boy saw beneath the surface glare and glitter into the dissolute practices and the corruption that existed. He saw honorable and just men dismissed from office because of a whim of the King's favorite. He saw that the streets of Paris were filled with beggars while the nobles danced and made merry at Court. He saw that the peasants died by the wayside of starvation when the waste from the banquets would have saved them. He saw that the taxes were more than doubled, and he heard the groans of the people as they bent their backs to the burden. Everybody had a gay time but the people. Everywhere in France the misery of the peasants was general. In some parts of the country the people dressed in skins and lived upon oats. In others, the farmers begged, and were often obliged to make bread of ferns, or subsisted upon water and roots. Through all this misery, or perhaps it would be better to say by reason of it, there was being created in France a new power, — the power of public opinion, to whose influence the government began to be subjected. It was openly talked that the public money should cease to be given over to plunder; that each person should have some security for his personal liberty and fortune, and that the right to worship God accord- ing to his own conscience should be granted to everyone. Such were the ideas disseminated through the salons, the let- ter-writers, and an ineffectively censored press; ideas which captivated the educated classes and presently filtered down to their suffering subordinates. These demands were so general, so earnest, that the neces- [ 76 ] AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED sity of acceding to them was plain to all intelligent minds. Even the King felt the pressure of the force that was rising, and knew that sooner or later a reckoning would be demanded, but in his selfishness, he consoled himself by thinking the catastrophe would fall upon some other head. *' Matters will go on as long as I live," he was wont to ex- claim. " My successor may get out of the difficulty as well as he may." Meantime philosophers thundered against existing evils. Voltaire preached justice; Montesquieu held up English lib- erty for the admiration of France; Rousseau denounced the entire social system, and asserted the principles of national sovereignty and universal suffrage, proclaiming great truths and great errors with singular eloquence. In addition to these great writers there were others whose writings caused a wave of mental activity to sweep the country. Caught in its vortex Lafayette with nearly a dozen kindred spirits formed a society where justice and toleration were talked of, and in which they considered with all the enthusiasm and gravity of earnest youth the reforms needed by the gov- ernment. At first the youths called it " The Society of the Court," and it met at Versailles. Then, as their inclinations toward republican principles grew, the name was changed to " The Society of the Wooden Sword," and their meetings were held in the " Cafe Epee de Bois," in Paris. In the midst of all this the King, Louis the Fifteenth, was taken suddenly ill, and presently to the horror of the Court it was found that his illness was due to malignant smallpox, of which he shortly died. The Dauphin and Dauphiness were [ 77 ] LAFAYETTE crowned King and Queen of France, and the reign of a new Louis, the Sixteenth of the name, began. "And this, Gilbert, is your opportunity," remarked the Due d'Ayen to Lafayette one day. " I shall use my influence to get you attached to the household of the Comte de Proven9e, the King's brother. I have, in fact, already spoken to the comte, and he seems to rather like the idea of having j'^ou at- tached to his personal family. It is a splendid opportunity." " Indeed? " was Lafayette's brief comment. He had little desire for such a position, but he did not wish to displease his wife's father by a flat refusal. He was of too independent a nature to become a hanger-on of royalty. To the Due d'Ayen, a natural born courtier, to be connected with the household of one of the Princes of the blood was an honor greatly to be desired. Such a place was esteemed a sinecure by the nobles, and offered innumerable openings for salaries, pensions, and perquisites. But the youth had other ideas, and he determined to give offense to the Comte de Provence so that he would not wish him near. Accordingly, when a little later a ball was given at the Opera — the great pleasure house of Paris — he attended. These balls were mixed affairs, but the young nobles of the Court, disguised with dominoes and masks, frequented them for sport. Lafayette knew that both the King's brothers were in the habit of going, so, in company with his friend and kins- man, the young Comte de Segur, he eagerly sought to en- counter Proven9e. It was late when the two youths entered quietly, and the ball was at its height. Blue, gray, black, and white dominoes [ 78 ] AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED were everywhere, and they were soon lost in the crowd. They walked among the groups until presently they came to a small group in the centre of which stood a large, fleshy man, ele- gantly attired in a silver gray domino. He was talking ear- nestly, and his companions were listening respectfully. La- fayette paused abruptly. " Is not that the Comte de Proven9e, Phillippe? " he asked in a low tone. " Yes, Gilbert," replied his companion with a laugh. " Do you not hear his Latin quotations? Proven9e cannot converse without interlarding his conversation with lines from Tacitus or Lucretius." " Yes; he is not only pedantic but dull," replied Lafayette, who did not like him. " Do you remain here, Phillippe, while I intrigue him. Then join him afterward, and let him dis- cover that I knew him under his domino." "As you will, Gilbert," returned his friend, laughing. " But remember: if Louis has no heir, you are speaking to the future King of France. Remember, also, that he who ofi'ends too deeply may be banished from the Court." " Oh, as to that! " Lafayette shrugged his shoulders. " If it were to exchange it for the Camp nothing would please me better. I weary of a constant round of frivolity." With this Lafayette left his friend and joined the group about the Comte de Proven9e. " We are discussing Rousseau's ' Emilius,' Monsieur," said the latter, addressing him condescendingly. " Do you not agree with us that it is a very dangerous book? " " On the contrar3% Monsieur, I esteem it highly." [ 79 ] LAFAYETTE " O ho ! I perceive that Monsieur is a philosopher. Then do you agree with its recommendation that every man, even though he be a prince, ought to be taught some trade? " " Fully, Monsieur. It would be best for all of us should we return to the simple life whereby man eats only the bread he has earned by his labor." "Ah! Le Contract Social is also to Monsieur's liking, I presume? You believe, then, that all men are brethren? " " Monsieur presumes rightly. The truth should be spoken though one gives one's life for it. All men are brethren. We are sent on earth to aid one another. Monsieur Rousseau ad- vocates in Le Contract Social those sentiments that all reflect- ing men now believe." " Do you mean by that, sir, that I am not a reflecting man? I do not agree with Jean Jacques Rousseau's sentiments," ex- claimed the comte with angry insolence. " Have a care, Mon- sieur Lafayette. I recognize you by those opinions. I have a most excellent memory, and I shall not forget your republi- can ideas." " Memory is the wit of fools. Monsieur," retorted Lafayette icily. " It is only they who have naught else to boast of who proclaim the attribute." And with this he turned upon his heel and walked away, leaving the men about the prince staring after him in open-eyed amazement. " He surely did not know to whom he was speaking," com- mented the comte, trying to find something to console himself for his ruffled plumage. "Ah! here is M. de Segur. I should know him anywhere in spite of that domino. I shall ask him if he thinks M. de Lafayette recognized me." Thereupon he [ 80 ] AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED put his question to the young man as soon as he joined the group. Comte de Segur laughed. " Make no doubt of it, my lord. My cousin and I discov- ered at once who you were." The question of a connection with the comte's household was settled for Lafayette for all time. Comte de Provence never forgave him, and even years afterward when he was the eighteenth Louis of France he retained the animosity aroused by the youth's remark. [81 ] CHAPTER VIII A Great Resolve MORE and more Lafayette held aloof from the gaye- ties of the Court, filled with rebellion at its frivolity, extravagance, and heedlessness of the misery and unrest of the country. The serious bent of his mind unfitted him for the endless flow of small-talk which was necessary to popularity. He was silent in company, because the things he thought or heard did not seem to him worth saying, and he could not unbend sufficiently for the graces of Court, or for the liveliness of a supper in town. As time passed and he grew more averse to Versailles he became more fond of being with his regiment. His wife's family could not understand his character. His reserve and independence were the very opposite of the quali- ties which these courtly relations wished to see in him. The cold and grave exterior which he displayed at times gave to his demeanor an air of timidity and embarrassment which did not really belong to him. But his reserved manners and silent disposition concealed a most active mind, a most determined 183] A GREAT RESOLVE character, and a most enthusiastic spirit. His father-in-law considered him torpid, inactive, and lacking in animation. He was soon to be undeceived regarding his son-in-law. Thus matters stood for over two years after the young man's marriage, and then, in the summer of 1776, he was stationed on military duty in the citadel of Metz, a town some two hundred miles east of Paris. Its Commandant, the Comte Charles Francois de Broglie, had been in the Hanoverian and West- phalian Campaigns and had been well acquainted with Lafay- ette's father; therefore he felt an unusual tenderness for the son. One day Lafayette received an invitation from him to attend a dinner which was to be given in honor of William Henry, Duke of Gloucester and brother of George Third, King of England, who was travelling upon the Continent as the Earl of Connaught. It was a glittering company that assembled around the Com- mandant's table that eighth day of August, 1776, all the French officers being in full dress uniform of blue and silver, but the English Duke was the most resplendent of them all. Like all feasts of the period, the banquet was long drawn out. It was not until the gentlemen around the board had settled back for an after-dinner smoke that the matter came up that was to change Lafayette's whole life. During a lull in the conversation the Comte de Broglie asked abruptly: " Your Highness, have you heard aught lately regarding the trouble between your royal brother and his American Colonies? " " I'faith, yes," answered the Duke chuckling. " I had des- patches this very morning which said that the troops which he [ 83 ] LAFAYETTE had sent over to bring the rebels to reason had been driven out of Boston by the insurgents." He chuckled again. The Duke was something of a rebel himself; for, having con- tracted a marriage displeasing to his august brother, the King, he and his wife had been banished from England, which was the reason that he was travelling on the Continent. Therefore he was in sympathy with the American rebels. Comte de Broglie almost gasped. " My lord," he exclaimed, " did I understand you to say that the rebels had driven English troops out of a place called Boston?" " Just that." The Duke threw back his head and laughed. " I'm glad of it. Perchance it may teach that brother of mine a much needed lesson. I'faith, those people are Englishmen if they do live across the ocean! " " But English troops ! " Comte de Broglie repeated as though he could scarcely believe what he heard. " Well, the rebels are English themselves, don't you know? " said the Duke, as though that explained the matter. "And then they are fighting for their liberty, which to Englishmen is more sacred than life itself." " I did not know that the Americans possessed troops," re- marked the Commandant courteously, concealing his amaze- ment. English troops were held in such high esteem for their fighting qualities that it was small wonder that he was aston- ished that these rebels should defeat them. " Nor do they," answered Gloucester. " They are just a lot of planters and shopkeepers under command of one George Washington, a planter himself, who saw some service with our [ 84 ] A GREAT RESOLVE troops during the Seven Years' War. Pardon the reference," he added with quick contrition, for well he knew that the loss of Canada, which defeat in that war had entailed upon them, was a painful subject to Frenchmen. Comte de Broglie acknowledged the apology with a formal bow. At this moment a boyish voice broke in eagerly: " Your Highness, pardon the question, but what is the trouble with the American Colonies? Why do they rebel against their King? " The English Duke gave a quick glance at the young officer who had asked for information, and laughed lightly as he saw how animated the youth's countenance had be- come. " I gather from your query. Monsieur, that you have heard naught of the matter," he remarked. " Your inference is correct, my lord. For some reason to- day is the first that I have heard of the affair. I crave enlight- enment, if you will graciously give it," Lafayette replied, for it was he who had made the inquiry. " The trouble has been brewing for years. Monsieur. My brother, urged on by some of his ministers, undertook to tax the colonists to help pay the expenses of the Seven Years' War and to maintain the royal governors. As they were not repre- sented in Parliament the colonists resented the tax, claiming that they must have representatives, or a Parliament of their own. There were numerous petitions sent from the various colonies to the King, setting forth their claims and the wrongs they had sustained, and asking as Englishmen that they be given the right to have part in making the laws by which they [ 85 ] LAFAYETTE were governed. The King ignored the petitions, and, by way of reply, had the Parliament to pass what was called the Stamp Act by which a tax was laid on all legal papers. This act was to be enforced through the royal governors. But the Ameri- cans seized all stamped paper sent over, burned it, refusing to use it in any form, and saying that they would transact no business rather than use it. So determined a stand did they take in the matter by refusing to import goods from us that the act was repealed. "After a time, the King, through Parliament, laid a duty on tea, glass, paper, and other articles; but, though some years had elapsed since the Stamp Act was repealed, the Americans were as stubborn in their refusal to pay the tax as they had been before. Their stand compelled the repeal of this act also. But the King insisted that the tax on tea remain, believing that the Americans were so fond of the beverage that they would pay the duty rather than give it up. But what did these peo- ple do but give up drinking tea. My brother is pig-headed, — you know, gentlemen, that brothers sometimes are when they are thwarted " The Duke smiled, thinking, no doubt, of his own affair with this same brother. " So he sent over ships laden with tea, believing that once their cargoes were landed the difficulty would be met. In Boston, which city seems to be a hotbed of rebels, as soon as the ships were anchored, the colonists disguised themselves as savages, boarded the vessels, and threw the tea into the harbor. " This so enraged the King that he sent over troops to bring Ihe rebels to reason. There have been several skirmishes in which our troops have not always come off victorious. In [ 86 ] A GREAT RESOLVE short, the whole matter may be smiimed up by saying that Taxation Without Representation is the base of the whole trouble." "But the peasants?" asked one of the French gentlemen. " Do they have a voice in this also, or is the rebellion confined to the upper classes only? " " There are no peasants in America," responded the Duke. *' Over there the people stand on a footing of equality. They are a nation of shopkeepers and planters, and the poorest man among them considers himself the equal of any man. The rebellion, therefore, is universal. Oh, there may be a few dis- senters, but they only serve to make the voice of the majority more pronounced." "And you, my lord? What do you think of the colonists? Do you agree with your brother, the King, that he has the right to tax them without representation? " asked another. " No. Neither my brother Cumberland, nor myself agree with him," answered the Duke emphatically. " There are many Englishmen who do not. That the people should be represented, and have a voice in making the laws by which they are governed is the great principle underlying English liberty. It has been its foundation for five hundred years, and many of us believe that the King is in very truth infringing upon the rights and liberties of these colonists by the course he is pur- suing. In fact, because of this he has found trouble in getting troops to go to America to force the people to see matters as he does. So he has hired Hessians to go over to do his fight- ing. " My lord, not to fight his own subjects? Surely the [87] LAFAYETTE King would not do that? " Lafayette's eyes flashed, and he straightened up quickly. " Oh, we English are not proud of it," exclaimed the Duke with a slight shrug of his shoulders. *' But what can he do? From his standpoint he is justified in doing anything to bring the insurgents to his way of thinking, and it is only a question of time until they are conquered. In the very nature of things they cannot oppose these troops long." Lafayette did not enter the conversation again, but sat lis- tening intently as the talk went on. A skirmish was described as having taken place at some towns, called Lexington and Concord, where the farmers had sent the British regulars fly- ing. A battle, too, had been fought at Bunker Hill, where, though the British had been victorious, it had been a dearly bought victory. He heard also that there were thirteen of these colonies, lying along the Atlantic seaboard on a narrow strip of territory separated from the interior by a range of mountains behind which dwelt a savage people called Indians, who terrorized the outlying settlements. His heart beat high in admiration of these courageous Americans who not only faced British regulars but contended with a savage foe beside that they might have liberty, and the right to live according to their own consciences. He glanced around the board. The French officers sat listening to the story of the English Duke with kindling faces, betraying undeniable sympathy for the Americans. And yet they belonged to the proudest aris- tocracy, and were subjects of the most absolute monarch of Europe. The youth smiled suddenly. The cause of liberty was the greatest cause of humanity, else why should these [ 88 ] A GREAT RESOLVE French aristocrats and this English Duke be stirred alike by it? The banquet ended at length, and Lafayette slipped quietly away, wishing to be alone that he might think over what he had heard. It was night, and the narrow streets of the old town were deserted. He took off his hat, and let the cool breath of the night sweep over his brow. What a wonderful story it was! Over in that far-off country a handful of people, beset by savage foes and British troops, was fighting the battle of Human Rights. For th-e sake of Liberty they were hazarding life, fortune, and honor. A mighty impulse swept him at the thought. What could be more glorious than to help in such a cause? He stopped suddenly overwhelmed by the great idea. Why not go to help them? Why not? But there was his own country in dire distress! Was it right to leave France when she, too, had need of deliverance? He drew a deep breath, and resumed his solitary walk under the stars. Ah, but the people of France had not yet reached a point where they were readj'^ for freedom. The masses knew nothing of the principle of liberty which seemed to be the birthright of the Anglo-Saxon. Could he not learn how to help France by fighting for these Americans? And there was his wife! Could he leave her? Had Lafayette been in a home of his own alone with his young wife the question might then and there have gone no farther. But he had become accustomed to seeing her guided and cared for by her people. He did not feel the responsi- bility that he would have felt had she depended upon him alone. Then, too, his career as a soldier had always been accepted [89] LAFAYETTE as a matter of course, but he deliberated the matter ear- nestly. " I will go," he decided suddenly. " I will help the Ameri- cans. In what grander cause could man engage than that of liberty? Adrienne will agree with me. I will go." [90] CHAPTER IX Ways and Means LAFAYETTE did not speak of his intention of going to America to anyone, for well he knew that it would be fraught with difficulties. Eagerly he sought for all the information that he could get concerning the country, and as soon as possible returned to Paris. He found the general theme of conversation to be America. Nothing was talked of but the recent Declaration of Inde- pendence. So universal did the admiration of men who had dared resist tyranny become, that the fashionable English game of whist had to give way to another called Boston Whist. Now the French people's ideas about Boston were hazy. They hardly knew whether it was the name of a town, or of a whole state; but they were so delighted that the haughty Eng- lish had been driven out of the place that there was Boston tea, and Boston snuff in addition to the game of whist. Though filled with enthusiasm for the enterprise Lafayette did not abandon prudence. It would not be easy for a noble- man of his rank to leave France. England, well knowing the feeling that existed against her in the hearts of Frenchmen, [ 91 ] LAFAYETTE feared that aid would be given to her rebellious colonies, and therefore had honeycombed the land with spies who reported everything that suggested assistance to America. Lord Stor- mont, the English Minister at the Court of Versailles, was exceedingly alert, and any overt act on the part of France might precipitate a war between the two countries. And France, while tempted to attack her ancient enemy, and sym- pathizing with the colonists, was in no condition for war; for there was no money, or no way to raise such a revenue. There- fore, the Court frowned upon those who would support the insurgents, and kept many who wished to give their services to the colonists in vexatious uncertainty as to how best they might work out their plans. Lafayette wished to sound some of his friends, and to take with him those who were filled with a desire for military service and the glory that would accrue to them in aiding so noble a battle for human rights. With this end in view he despatched an invitation to his two most intimate friends, the young Comte de Segur and the Vicomte de Noailles, to join him at supper at a cabaret at the corner of La Rue Thomas du Lovre. At the appointed hour they entered the cafe, coming at once to the table where he sat in waiting. " I embrace you, Gilbert," cried the Comte de Segur. " I have not seen you since my return from Spa." " Is it a conspiracy, Gilbert? " questioned the Vicomte de Noailles, glancing about the cafe. "This is a pretty little cabaret, but not one of our usual haunts." Lafayette smiled. " Not exactly a conspiracy, Louis," he said, " but I wished [ 92 1 WAYS AND MEANS to talk to you both concerning an enterprise that lies very near to my heart, and we could have privacy here. Elsewhere we would be in danger of interruption every moment." And then, as soon as they were served, he began: " Of course you have both heard of the American resistance to the demands of England? " "At Spa there was nothing else talked about," de Segur told him. " The first cannon shot fired by the insurgents in defense of freedom resounded throughout Europe with the rapidity of lightning. There were travellers from all over the world at the watering place, and they were united in their admiration of the heroic colonists." " It is a glorious cause," exclaimed de Noailles earnestly. "And one that should enlist every heart." "Louis, you speak my own sentiments," cried Lafayette, delighted to hear these words from his friends. "And now, mes amis, since you are so minded, I do not fear to tell you of what I propose to do. But first, give me your word of honor that you will say naught to anyone of what I am about to divulge." " We promise, Gilbert," answered the young men in unison. " For many years we have met together and talked of lib- erty, and our hearts have thrilled with yearning to be of service to her. The time has come when there is opportunity to un- sheathe our swords in her defense. Mes amis,*' Lafayette's voice grew low and tense, " I am going to America to help the insurgents in their fight for their rights. Do I go alone? " For a long moment his friends sat without speaking. The announcement was so abrupt, so unexpected that their amaze- [ 93 ] LAFAYETTE ment rendered them speechless. There had been a number of impecunious noblemen who had declared themselves ready and willing to take service with the Americans. For the most part they were adventurers, desirous of military distinction and not unaverse to whatever of financial gain might come to them; but no man of the rank and wealth of their kinsman had so declared himself. So the audacity of his resolve overwhelmed them. But presently the Vicomte de Noailles recovered him- self, and extending his hand, exclaimed: " You go not alone, Gilbert. I will go with you." " And I also," cried the Comte de Segur. " Did you dream that you could go without us, Gilbert? " Lafayette pressed their hands, laughing joyously, and pre- senting the appearance of a man arrived at the height of human felicity. *' I thought so," he said simply. " 'Tis a compact then. We will go together. And now let us discuss ways and means of executing the project." " We must not only discuss ways and means, but how to overcome objections," amended the Comte de Segur with a sigh. " We shall encounter many, Gilbert. Have you thought of that? Our families will never give consent." " True, Phillippe. I have said nothing to mine as yet of my intention. We shall have to broach the subject to them very carefully, and use diplomacy in ascertaining what thej'- will think of it. I shall speak of the matter to my family as soon as a feasible opportunity presents itself." With this the young men drew their chairs closer to the table and fell into an earnest discussion of the subject in all its [ 94 ] WAYS AND MEANS bearings. At a late hour they parted, mutually agreeing to hold another conference at an early date. Tlie opportunity to find what his family would think of the matter was not long in coming to Lafayette. It was the custom of the Duchesse d'Ayen to assemble her daughters in her boudoir each day where they read, knit, or chatted together. Lafayette had been summoned to the Court to execute a small commission for the King, and having dis- charged the duty he returned to the Hotel de Noailles. At once he sought his wife in her mother's apartment, well know- ing that they would relish whatever Court gossip he might bring them. Opening the door quietly he paused for a moment on the threshold to view the charming group seated therein. His mother-in-law sat in a large easy chair near the fireplace, hav- ing conveniently at hand her snuff-box, her knitting, and her books. Her two youngest daughters occupied stools at her feet, while Adrienne had the post of honor near her mother, for she held her infant daughter upon her lap. By this time the Lafayettes were the j^roud parents of a little girl. A slight movement on Lafayette's part caused his wife to glance up. As she saw who stood in the doorway she uttered an exclamation of delight. " Oh, Gilbert," she cried, " I am so glad that you have come back. Henriette has a tooth. Mother found it this morn- ing." " Why, that's wonderful ! " exclaimed Lafayette, coming forward. Taking his child from her he bent over the infant tenderly, while the young mother displayed the wonderful [ OS ] LAFAYETTE tootH. " Isn't it unusual for a child to have a tooth so young as our little Henriette is? " The Duchesse d'Ayen smiled. As the baby had been born the fifteenth of December, 1775, and was now ten months old, it was in the natural order of things for her to produce a tooth. But was there ever a first born whose young parents did not think him the most wonderful or unusual baby ever born? " It seems so to me," replied his young wife, " but Mother says that it is quite time for teething." " But really. Mother," began Lafayette when the door opened, and the Due d'Ayen burst into the room. He was a man of choleric temperament, and now proceeded to dis- play it. ^' Such folly!" he exploded wrathfully. " Henriette, what do you think? Louis and Phillippe have conceived the pre- posterous notion of going overseas to help the Americans. They were making preparations for their departure when the Court discovered the secret, and at once notified their families. The minister said that the entry of French officers into the service of the English colonies would be an act of hostility which His Majesty could not sanction, and that while he was much gratified by the zeal of the young men they must not think of going to America. My brother at once sent for me^ and we have been holding a warm session with the young men. They have been reproached severely for their rashness. Lord Stormont is furious, and has protested vigorously to the Court. Peste! such follies will embroil us with England." " But, Father, why should it matter to England if Louis and Phillippe wish to help the insurgents? It does not follow [ 96] WAYS AND MEANS that the Court and the ministry of France sanction the act if some of the young men desire to serve America," spoke Lafayette. " Stuff and nonsense! it is annoying to the Court because it is feared that the departure of noblemen of such rank will be interpreted by the English Government as an open acknowl- edgment of the intention of France to su^^port the Colonies. 'Twould be a fool's errand to set off on such a long journey on such a mission. 'Tis not only the height of folly, it is madness. I told their fathers so, and recommended that their allowances be cut off if they persisted in such foolishness. I think the matter is settled effectually." " Still, there are as long journeys undertaken for pleasure every day," remarked the young man. " What would you think were I to espouse the cause of the Colonies ? " "Think?" roared his father-in-law. "I should not take time to think. I should prevent you from committing such folly, of course. It were an easy matter to procure a lettre-de- cachet from the King, and to throw you into the Bastille. I would not hear of any such proposition." " It would not be necessary to proceed to any such extreme with Gilbert," interposed the Duchesse mildly while Adrienne sat, gazing at him with startled eyes. " In the first place, he would not think of doing such a thing; and in the next place, the thought of Adrienne and Henriette would deter him from it." Lafayette made no further remark. He had his answer. He knew exactly now how the family would receive the an- nouncement of his going. When they had reached the privacy [97] LAFAYETTE of their own apartments Adrienne turned suddenly, and laid her hand upon his arm. " Gilbert," she said, " you are going? I feel it." Lafayette clasped her in a close embrace. " Yes, dearest. It is a just and noble cause, and one that has enlisted my whole being. You will be brave? " The girl-wife drew a deep breath, and clung to him. She loved Lafayette dearly, and his departure would cause her much grief, but Adrienne de Lafayette was made of the stuff of heroines; so now, though she was quivering with emotion, she said: " Yes, Gilbert. I know how you have always adored lib- erty, and I shall put no obstacle in your way. But, but what if you should not come back? " Lafayette laughed. " Oh, but I shall," he assured her. " When I go I want to go as an officer, and an officer, my love, especially if he be a general officer, has almost a commission for immortality." " When do you go? " she asked in a low voice. "Ah, I know not, Adrienne. The way is beset with diffi- culties which I am seeking to overcome. It will not be for some time, I fear." A look of relief flashed across her face, and she gave a sigh of content. "And Louis and Phillippe were to go with you, were they not? Now, they will have to give it up." " Yes ; but, as you say, now they will have to give it up. It is a pity, for they might have distinguished them- selves." [98 1 WAYS AND MEANS It was a mournful meeting that followed with the Comte de Segur and the Vicomte de Noailles. " We tried to enlist some of our companions to go with us, Gilbert," the Comte de Segoir told him. " They were indis- creet, and bruited our purpose about so that the government heard of it, and informed our families who summoned us before them for reprimand and admonition. And now " " And now," broke in the Vicomte de Noailles, " we shall have to give it up. They object strenuously, and, as we are not in your position with our money in our own right, we are obliged to submit. Fortunately, your connection with the affair is not known, but the Due will try to prevent it should he become aware of your intention to go. Of course, though, you will give it up also; will you not? " *' On the contrary, I am more determined than ever to go," declared Lafayette. " Why not? There could be no nobler cause in which to enlist my banner." Why not, indeed? Lafayette had occasion to ask himself that question many times as he struggled against the obstacles that surrounded him. As a reminder of the glory of his ancestors, as a spur to his own strength of purpose and his desire to follow worthily after those sturdy soldiers in their long history of military prowess in which no Lafayette was ever known to turn back he took the words — "Cur Non" as a device for the arms he bore as the Marquis de Lafayette. They were the same that the famous marshal of his name, who loyally served the King against his enemies in the Fifteenth Century, had borne. "Cur Non?" Why Not? It was a time when all the impulses of his being were carrying him [ 99 ] LAFAYETTE in one direction, and all the influences about him strove to turn him into another. Why Not? The words were not only an answer to his critics but served as a spur to his resolve as well. Finally, he had recourse to his friend, the Commandant at Metz. Comte de Broglie heard him gravely as he imparted to him his intention to go to America. When he had finished speaking his friend shook his head. " The project is too chimerical," he remarked. "It is fraught with too many hazards. And what of advantage can it bring to you? You already have rank, wealth, a charming wife, and a lovely little child whose development will be a constant source of pleasure; in fact, you have everything that man can desire. What more do you want? " " The opportunity to do a man's work. Monsieur le Comte," returned the young man. " I do not wish to go for any ad- vantage to myself. To me the desire for freedom seems the noblest impulse of the human heart. Should the Americans succeed in their struggle against tyranny other oppressed j)eo- ple will be encouraged to rebel against their oppressors. Think what it would mean to the world if all men had free- dom." " That is a fantasy of the philosophers, Gilbert. A dream that emanates from the brain of such men as Voltaire and Rousseau. If you wish to distinguish yourself by military prowess there are fields nearer home here in Europe to which your family would sanction your going." " I want no return, no emoluments, nothing but to help fight the battle for human rights," returned Lafayette firmly. I 100 ] WAYS AND MEANS "If you will not aid me to put my desire into execution you will, I know, respect my confidence." " Most certainly," spoke the comte reassuringly. " But I have seen your uncle die in the Wars of Italy ; I witnessed your father's death at the battle of Minden; and I will not be ac- cessory to the ruin of the family. Beside, there is your wife " " I confess, M. le Comte," interrupted Lafayette, " that the thought of her forms the only drawback. But look you! my father-in-law and his sister, the Comtesse de Tesse, have a de- sign to tour Italy this coming winter, and it is their wish that I accompany them. So, even though I should renounce my in- tention of going to America, I should not be with Adrienne. Therefore, I shall go to America." Argument after argument was put forth by the comte to dissuade the young man from his purpose. Finding that all his persuasions were vain the Commandant said at length with evident reluctance: " I can give you no help to carry out your intention, Gil- bert, but since you will not be persuaded to abandon your pur- pose I will introduce you to the Baron de Kalb who is also seeking an opportunity to go to America. He has already been in the country, and his counsels and experience may be of value to you." " You will? " exclaimed the youth joyously. " M. le Comte, I thank you most sincerely." The Baron de Kalb was born of German peasant stock, and was really no baron at all. He was a brave, experienced sol- dier who had served through several campaigns in the French [ 101 ] LAFAYETTE army, and in the Seven Years' War. Wishing to become a French brigadier he assumed to be noble because the France of this period would have no one as an officer who was not of noble blood. After the Seven Years' War the Due de Choi- seul, then Prime Minister, foreseeing that there would be trouble between England and her Colonies sent De Kalb with other secret agents to Canada and the Colonies. He was to make a report on the prospects of profitable French interfer- ence. Now he was seeking to return to America in a higher official capacity that he might distinguish himself, and after the war obtain the rank he wished in the French army. He received Lafayette very graciously at his house in Chaillot, then a suburb of Paris. Lafayette on his part was much taken with the bluff soldier who was nearly three times his age. " Have you seen the American Commissioner, Mr. Deane? '* he questioned after Lafayette had unfolded his desire. " He is not received openly at Court, being officially ignored by the government which is endeavoring to keep up appearances with England ; but, secretly, he has been able to send some arms and accoutrements to America. It seems best to go to him first, though we shall have to proceed carefully about it, as Lord Stormont's spies watch him closely." " I did not know that an American Commissioner was in France," confessed Lafayette. " By all means, let us go to him." " He has been in the country since July, M. le Marquis. Do you speak English? " " No," admitted the young man. " You do, do j^ou not? " [ 103 ] WAYS AND MEANS " Yes ; so I will act as interpreter for you, as Mr. Deane speaks no French." With this he conducted Lafayette to the house of Silas Deane at Passy. Mr. Deane had been sent to France by the Congress to seek aid for the hard-pressed colonists. He was not at first greatly impressed by Lafayette. The latter was so boyish looking, so young, being at this time but little more than nineteen years of age. Then, too, there were so many flocking to him who wished to find employment over- seas — for the most part adventurers and money hunters with a few soldiers who would go anywhere to engage in a fight. It was hard for Lafayette to plead his case through the medium of an interpreter. He realized that his youth and inexperience were against him, but he made a great point of his zeal for the enterprise and the sensation that his departure would undoubt- edly make. The earnestness and the ardor which the young volunteer manifested, and the probable effect that his going would have throughout France in awakening a more intense sympathy with the American cause overcame Mr. Deane's first hesita- tion. A mutual agreement was made after several meetings,, Lafayette promising to depart as early as circimistances should permit, to engage personally in the struggle for the in- dependence of the United States, and to serve without pay or remuneration of any kind. On his part, Mr. Deane gave him the following paper: " The desire which the Marquis de Lafayette shows of serv- ing among the troops of the United States of North America, and the interest which he takes in the justice of their cause, [ 103 ] LAFAYETTE make 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 gi'anting 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 de- liver him the commission to hold and to take rank from this day with the general officers of the same degi'ce. 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 the present this 7th day of December, 1776. " Silas Deane." Lafayette was delighted with the paper, and left the Com- mission carrying the prized document proudly. I 104 ] CHAPTER X An Obstructed Path BY this time Silas Deane was joined by Dr. Benjamin Franklin and Arthur Lee who came to help him in his negotiations with the French Government. The sage old doctor with his quaint sayings, his seeming simplicity, his plain appearance in simple dress and without a wig which made him seem the true exponent of democracy, became at once the rage. Medallions, snuff-boxes, canes, fans, and even a stove were named after him, and he and his colleagues were the ob- jects of devoted attentions. The fever took possession of the highest ranks of society, penetrating even to Versailles, where it became the fashion to quote his sayings upon every occasion. Among the first to welcome him was Lafayette. The shrewd Franklin at once saw what a help to the United States the acquisition of a young man of Lafayette's standing and rank would be, and received him with pleasure. But the great doctor soon became too well known for Lafay- ette to visit him often without exciting suspicion, so a secret correspondence was carried on between them through the agency of a Mr. Carmichael, an American then living in Paris. [ 105 ] LAFAYETTE Everything seemed to be going favorably. Vergennes, the minister of foreign affairs at Versailles, received Franklin se- cretly, and such an impression did the great American make that the King, moved by curiosity, sent for him to come to him privately. Franklin was too good a diplomat not to make the most of his opportunities. Through his representations Louis XA'^I consented to fit out a vessel with guns, ammunitions, and supplies for the insurgents which should also be used to carry over those men who desired to enlist in the American cause. The expedition was, of course, to be arranged without open recognition from the government. Quietly Lafayette made his preparations to sail upon the ship which was to depart from the port of Havre. And then, like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, came dire news. The Americans had met with reverses, and Lord Stormont who had gained information of the venture from Havre made so vigor- ous a protest that the Ministry was obliged to forbid the enter- prise. The King who had been on the point of acknowledging the Independence of the United States, now withdrew his favor, believing it wiser to wait further events. In the midst of the reports which buzzed about the Court and the City the American envoys sent for Lafayette to meet with them at the house of Mr. Carmichael. The young man hastened to obey the summons, and found an exceedingly grave looking group awaiting his coming. " We have had very bad tidings indeed. Marquis," Dr. Franklin informed him. " Our forces have been driven out of New York City and Long Island. Thirty-three thousand British and Hessian troops have almost totally destroyed them, [ 106 ] AN OBSTRUCTED PATH and General Washington with the remnant of the army is in retreat across the Jerseys. We think it only right to tell you that if you wish to withdraw from your agreement with us of going to America you may do so with honor." " But I do not wish to withdraw, sir," protested Lafayette. " But, Marquis, do you understand that all of our credit with the King and Court has vanished on account of these re- verses? We can no longer obtain even a vessel to carry over our officers." Lafayette listened calmly as the envoys went into full par- ticulars of the disaster. " Gentlemen," he said cheerily, " all armies experience de- feat at times, but it does not follow that the cause of liberty is lost because we may have been beaten once or twice. I thank you for your frankness, but these tidings will not deter me from my purpose. Until now, you have only seen my ardor in your cause, and that may not prove at present wholly useless. I shall purchase a ship to carry out your officers ; we must feel confidence in the future, and it is especially in the hour of dan- ger that I wish to share your fortune." The Commissioners heard him with astonishment. They were not prepared for such a noble offer. They had supposed that the marquis, in common with others who had enlisted in the American struggle, was actuated more by youthful im- pulses and a passion for adventure or military glory, than by any genuine sympathy with an oppressed people. They were amazed at his zeal, and accepted his offer with gratitude and emotion. And now Lafayette made a determined effort to surmount [ 107] LAFAYETTE the obstacles that surrounded him. It was not an easy thing to purchase and freight a vessel. A romantic zeal, or love of excitement would have given way before the difficulties that tried his spirit. With unbending resolution he set about carry- ing out his proposal. All his preparations must be matured with the utmost privacy so as to escape the vigilance of his do- mestic circle, the French Government, and English spies. Once more he sought his friend the Comte de Broglie for advice. The Commandant was at this time at Ruffec, his country seat, and with De Kalb, who had sought him after the failure of the expedition from Havre, Lafayette spent several days there discussing the plan that he proposed to adopt. Again the comte pointed out the hazards of such an under- taking, and pleaded with him to renounce it. " Gilbert," he said at length, finding his remonstrances vain, ** you force me to aid you against my best judgment. As you are set upon purchasing a vessel I should advise you to send someone upon whom you can rely to Bordeaux to buy your ship for you. Being so remote it is the port most free from suspicion at present. There, if your agent proceeds with due caution, your work may be carried on without detection." " But to whom can I entrust such a mission, M. le Comte? " questioned Lafayette. " It should be a man who has some knowledge of vessels. Where can I find such a man? " " There is Lieutenant Dubois-Martin, a brother of my sec- retary," suggested Comte de Broglie. " He is the very man to carry out your wishes, and is dependable in every way. He has some acquaintance among the merchants of Bordeaux as he has come to France to buy uniforms for his regiment at [ 108 ] AN OBSTRUCTED PATH Port-au-Prince. He intended to sail for the West Indies with the ship from Havre, but of course had to renounce that inten- tion when the ministry forbade that vessel to sail. It would seem a matter of course for him to purchase a ship to carry him back to the American Islands." " Where would I find him? " exclaimed Lafayette eagerly. " Here in Paris, Gilbert. He came to see his brother after the failure of the affair at Havre, so he is in the city." " How kind you are, M. le Comte," said the young man gratefully. " I could not have carried out my plans at all had it not been for your aid. You have been to me as a father." The comte smiled grimly. " I trust that I shall never regret the part I have taken in your enterprise," he remarked. " I doubt if any father would help his son in undertaking so hazardous an expedition. I shall never forgive myself if you come to grief." " I shall not do that," declared the young man with all the confidence of youth. " And never shall I forget your kind- ness. One last favor, mon ami: go with me to this Lieutenant Dubois-Martin." The lieutenant, " le petit Dubois," as the comte called him, proved a most satisfactory emissary. Through him a vessel. La Victoire, was purchased at Bordeaux. The cargo was in- cluded. The price was 112,000 francs; one-fourth cash, the balance fifteen months from the day of delivery which, because of needed repairs, would be in the middle of March. Lafayette raised the money from his own estates for the purchase — a generosity which has no parallel. There now remained noth- [ 109 ] LAFAYETTE ing to do but to wait until the ship was declared ready to sail. Just at this time the Prince de Poix, to whose regiment La- fayette was attached, came to him, and claimed fulfillment of a promise made some time previously to visit England with him. The Marechal de Noailles, his wife's uncle, was the French Ambassador at the Court of St. James, and the agree- ment had been made between the young men before Lafayette had heard of the American troubles. Lafayette did not know what to do in this dilemma, and at once sought Dr. Franklin for advice. Franklin, who clearly saw the difficulties that the marquis would encounter should his contemplated sailing for America become known to the government, advised the visit to London, in the hope that this would divert the inquiries which he knew were constantly and busily made in reference to all his opera- tions. So Lafayette and the Prince de Poix sailed for London. On any other occasion Lafayette would have welcomed a visit to the English capital. In common with most Frenchmen he was interested in everything concerning the ancient enemy of France, but at present he preferred to remain in his OAvn coun- try where he could keep in touch with the progress made for his enterprise. At this time it was the policy of England to do everything that would keep her on friendly terms with France; therefore, the young men received the most flattering attention from King and Court. Naturally, the troubles with the Colonies and the doings of the insurgents were the principal themes of con- [ no ] AN OBSTRUCTED PATH versation everywhere. Lafayette openly avowed his sympathy with the Americans, though he concealed his design of enlist- ing personally in the strife. Among other courtesies extended to him were offers to visit the seaports to inspect vessels which were being fitted out against the rebels, but all such invitations the young man re- fused. He did not wish to be guilty of any act that might be construed into an abuse of confidence or hospitality. In fact, so conscientious was he in the matter that he drew upon him- self the suspicion that he wished to avoid. Lord Rawdon, one of the English Commanders, had just returned from New York, and at a supper to which Lafayette was invited, he related how the rebels had been driven from Long Island and New York across the Jerseys into Pennsyl- vania. "But, my lord," spoke one of the Englishmen present, " there is a rumor floating about that this man Washington with his ragged troops actually crossed the Delaware River on the ice, and captured more than a thousand regulars. You have but returned from New York, and can tell us the truth. Did he do it? " Lord Rawdon scowled. " Not our troops, but Hessians," he corrected testily. The British did not enjoy the episode. " They were celebrating Christmas, and there was a blinding snow-storm. The enemy was miles away on the other side of the river. Under such con- ditions who would dream of being attacked? But this Wash- ington is a sly old fox. One never knows what he will do. On this night he crossed the river, though there was much ice float- [ 111 ] LAFAYETTE ing in it, marched to Trenton, and captured the Dutch mer- cenaries. It was a complete surprise." " So it is a fact," remarked the questioner. " I heard the report, but it seemed too preposterous to beheve." " Yes; it is a fact," returned Lord Rawdon briefly as though he did not relish the recital. " Naturally, we " He paused abruptly, for from his right hand where sat Lafayette there came a gleeful chuckle. Lord Rawdon turned toward him Avith ill-concealed irritation. " You seem amused, M. le Marquis? " he said severely. " Pardon me, my lord, I am," answered Lafayette, his boy- ish face aglow with delight. "Is it not what one would call great prowess to carry through such a feat? For look you! according to report the insurgents are illy clad and illy fed. Then is it not wonderful that such troops could accomplish so great an undertaking? Surely, as soldiers, we must admire such deeds. This General Washington " " Pardon me, M. le Marquis, but we do not accord him such rank. We do not recognize him as a general." " But, but is he not the Commander? " asked Lafayette be- wildered. " He is the leader, sir," returned the Englishman tersely. "When the rebellion is quelled I hope to be present at his execution. There are a number of them that we shall hang higher than Haman, and that old fox shall be among the first if I have anything to say about it." Lafayette smiled involuntarily, but deemed it prudent to say no more. Inwardly he was delighted with what he had heard. [ 112 ] AN OBSTRUCTED PATH " With such a leader,'* he said to himself, " the Americans cannot fail. They will triumph in the end, for the reason that the cause for which they are fighting is a just and noble one." But his open admiration had brought suspicion upon him, and he was soon aware that he was being closely watched. Fearful that the English Minister, Lord Stormont, would be communicated with, and that some further obstacle would be thrown in his way so that he could not go to his ship, Lafayette resolved to return at once to Paris. But his uncle, the French Ambassador, was loath to let him go. " I wished you to go with me to the Court, Gilbert," he said. " The King was so much pleased with your manner and ad- dress when you were presented that he has included us both in an invitation to go with the royal party to inspect the vessels which are being freighted to go against the rebels. I virtually accepted for us both." " I am sorry, Uncle, but it is necessary for me to return to Paris," said Lafayette. " But if you do go you will surely return to England, will you not? " questioned the Ambassador, who had been much gratified by the reception accorded Lafayette. " It may be," answered Lafayette non-committally, " Then I shall say that you are ill," decided his uncle, who knew nothing of his nephew's plans. " Otherwise, it might seem discourteous to the King. On your return you may go with me to the Court and present your regrets." " Very well," said Lafayette. It was not a stratagem that he would have made use of, but he made no objection to his [ 113 ] LAFAYETTE uncle using it. With that he took his departure to complete preparations for his return. That very day he took ship for France. [114] CHAPTER XI After Many Difficulties THE channel was rough, and Lafayette suffered se- verely from seasickness. Arrived at Paris he went at once to the house of De Kalb at Chaillot to recover from his illness and to complete his preparations for the voy- age. He dared not go to his family to bid them farewell, even though he was about to embark upon an expedition fraught with great peril and from which he might never return. Should he do so his father-in-law would certainly have him arrested. His wife, he felt sure, would understand his mo- tives, and forgive him. But concealment and intrigue so nec- essary in this case were irksome to a nature as frank and open as Lafayette's, and he hastened to make an end of it. The American Commissioners were seen, also a few friends, and, on the morning of the last day of his short stay in Paris, he sought the young Comte de Segur, taking his kinsman greatly by sur- prise by appearing in his apartment at seven o'clock in the morning. Carefully closing the door behind him, Lafayette seated himself at Segur's bedside, for the latter had not yet arisen, and said: " Phillippe, I am going to America. ISlo one knows it; but [ 115 ] LAFAYETTE I love you too well to set off without entrusting you with the secret." " To America? " ejaculated his friend, starting up amazed. *' Why, I thought you had given up all idea of that long ago. How have you been able to secure your passage? " " I bought a vessel, and equipped her myself," explained Lafayette. Forthwith he related the whole of the matter. " You are to be congratulated, mon ami" exclaimed Segur. " Would that I could go with you ! " " Would that 3^ou could, Phillippe," answered Lafayette. "And now I am going to depend upon you to write me how the news of my departure is taken by the family, and above all, how it affects Adrienne." " It will give me pleasure to do what I can, Gilbert. Adri- enne loves you so devotedly that whatever you do will be right in her eyes ; but her father — — " " Yes ; Father will be angry, I know," commented Lafay- ette with a smile. " If he knew he would have me thrown into the Bastille rather than let me go. But he does not know. When he does I hope that it will be too late for him to do any- thing. And now I must bid you adieu, Phillippe." "Adieu, Gilbert," returned de Segur, embracing him with emotion. " Bon voyage! Never fear but that I shall keep you informed of all that occurs." They embraced once more, and Lafayette took his leave. In London he had written to his father-in-law, announcing his plans, but, although penned on the ninth of March, he did not send it to the Due until the sixteenth, when, in company with De Kalb, he set forth for Bordeaux, where his ship lay. [ 116 ] AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES " You will be astonished, my dear father," he wrote, " at the news I am on the point of giving you; it has cost me far more than I can express not to consult you. My respect and affection for you, as well as my great confidence in you, must convince you of the truth of this assertion. I have found a peculiar opportunity of distinguishing myself, and of learning a soldier's trade. I am a general officer in the army of the United States of America. The frankness of my conduct, and my zeal in their service, have completely won their confi- dence. I have done, on my side, all I could do for them, and their interest will ever be dearer to me than my own. In short, my dear father, I am at this moment in London, anxiously awaiting letters from my friends ; upon receiving them, I shall set off from hence, and, without stopping at Paris, I shall embark in a vessel that I have myself purchased and chartered. My travelling companions are the Baron de Kalb, a very dis- tinguished officer, brigadier in the King's service, and major- general, as well as myself, in the LTnited States army; and some other excellent officers, who have kindly consented to share the chances of my fate. I rejoice at having found such a glorious opportunity of occupying myself, and of acquiring knowledge. I am conscious that I am making an immense sacrifice, and that to quit my family, my friends, and you, my dearest father, costs me more than it could do any other per- son, — because I love you all far more tenderlj'^ than any other person ever loved his friends. But this voyage will not be a very long one; we see every day far longer journeys taken for amusement only; and I hope also to return more worthy of those who are kind enough to regret my absence. Adieu, my dear father; I hope I shall soon see you again. Retain your affection for me ; I ardently desire to merit it — nay, I do merit it already, from my warm affection toward you, and from the respect that, during the remainder of his life, will be felt for you by, " Your affectionate son, " Lafayette. " I have arrived, for one moment, at Paris, my dear father,, and have only time to bid you again farewell." [ 117] LAFAYETTE After a three days' journey Lafayette and De Kalb arrived at Bordeaux, where they found that there were still many mat- ters to be arranged before La Victoire could sail. As soon as he reached the port Lafayette became aware that his move- ments were well known at Court, and that the King was about to issue an order for his arrest. It was impossible that the ex- tensive outfit which he was actively making should for a long time escape the observation of spies with whom he was sur- rounded. Despatching a courier to Paris to ascertain the effect of his proceedings, and to prevent an interdict from issuing he tried to hasten the work necessary to be done on the ship. The return of the courier brought information that was far from reassuring, so, on the night of the twenty-fifth of March he suspended the repairs, and set sail, heading for the Spanish Coast. Soon he arrived at Los Pasajes, a little har- bor on the Bay of Biscay, a few miles to the east of San Sebas- tian, and only a short distance from the French frontier. La- fayette and De Kalb held a meeting of rejoicing as they anchored, believing that here the repairs on the vessel could be finished, and then they could set sail without further diffi- culty. " And now, my friend, I will go ashore to see if there is further news from Paris," cried Lafayette jubilantly. " I left arrangements by which I might be informed of all that was happening there." Waving his hand gaily to his friend he went ashore. Scarcely had he stepped from the boat to the land than two men who had stood on the pier watching the dory come in, stepped up to him. [ 118 ] AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES ** By order of tHe King you are under arrest, M. le Mar^ quis," said one, producing a lettre-de-cachet, and handing it to him. " You must return with us to France." "And here," said the other, " are letters from the Ministry^ and from some memhers of your family insisting upon your return." Now what had happened at Paris was this: The receipt of Lafayette's letter had thrown the Due d'Ayen and all his family into a state of violent anger, and bitter denunciations were showered upon the obstinate son-in-law. His mother-in- law, however, did not join in these maledictions. She saw his conduct in its true light and thoroughly understood his mo- tives. While she deplored the dangers of the enterprise, she nevertheless appreciated it as later it was appreciated by all the world. It was she who broke the news of his departure to Lafayette's wife, and tried to comfort her by finding ways of serving him. But Adrienne concealed her grief, passionately defending her husband, and declaring that: " Gilbert would not have taken such a step if he were not right. We should all be proud of him.'* Which was the view taken generally of Lafayette's bold es- pousal of the American cause. As soon as his departure became known his wife was congratulated upon having such a husband, and in the cafes and salons nothing else was talked of, and his praises were sung in unqualified terms. But to the Due d'Ayen all this was gall and wormwood. His pride was hurt, and he felt humiliated and disgraced. No sooner was the letter read than he hastened to Versailles and procured a lettre- de-cachet from the King which he despatched post haste after [ 119] LAFAYETTE his son-in-law. The King and the Ministry also issued orders for Lafayette's arrest and detention at Bordeaux. There was no effort made by the government to detain De Kalb or other officers. They were unconnected with the Court, and their movements could be ignored or disavowed. But the Marquis de Lafayette, so closely bound to the Noailles family and the Court, was a person who could take no important step without raising the presumption that he had the King's per- mission. His departure would be resented by the British Minister as an evidence that the cause of the rebellious Colonies was favorably looked upon by those in authority. Moreover, it was at the express request of the Due d' Ayen that Lafayette was forbidden to carry out his plans. So Lafayette read the letters presented by the officers with mingled feelings. The lettre-de-cachet from the King com- manded him to proceed at once to Marseilles and to wait there for further orders. The letters from the Ministers charged him with violating his oath of allegiance to the King, and with rashly committing an act which might involve his government with other Powers. His family censured him in a tone of pointed reprimand, assuring him that his conduct, if persisted in, would ruin both him and them. But from his wife there was no word of censure. It was a staggering blow. Lafayette did not wish to bring harm upon his friends or his family, nor did he wish to bear the accusation of being lax in his duty to his King. He stood silently pondering what course he should pursue, and then determined with a sigh to go back with the officers, to report himself to the Commandant at Bordeaux and to make a further I 120 ] AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES effort to release himself from the prohibitions that beset his path. Therefore he said quietly; " Gentlemen, I will return with you to Bordeaux, but first, will you permit me to consult with the Baron de Kalb, who is upon yonder vessel? " " Certainly, Monsieur, if the Baron will come ashore to converse with you," answered one of the officers cour- teously. " Our orders do not permit that you board ship again." " I thank you," returned Lafayette. " I have no doubt but that the Baron will gladly accede to your desire that our con- versation shall take place ashore." De Kalb soon came from the ship, and Lafayette explained the situation to him. The Baron was disposed to take a gloomy view of the outlook. *' Were I in your place. Marquis," he said, " I should give up the enterprise. Make the best terms possible with the firm from whom you bought the ship, and turn it back to them. This, it seems to me, is the wise course for you to pursue." " There is but one thing, Baron, that will make me renounce my purpose," returned Lafayette. " That is the knowledge that my going will bring harm to those I love. But is it not strange that a man cannot attempt to play a man's part with- out being accused of having no love or tenderness for his wife and child? The letters from my family are terrible. Because of them I must return to Bordeaux with these gentlemen, deliver myself to the Commandant there, and stay until I can find out whether my design will in truth work injury to my [ 121 ] LAFAYETTE family and friends. Do you wait here for me until the matter is brought to a conclusion. I shall rejoin you soon if I may do so with honor." Sorrowfully the two bade each other adieu, and Lafayette with the King's officers set forth upon the journey back to France. The land road led through the small village of St.- Jean-de-Luz, where they stopped at the inn for refreshment. They were served by the innkeeper's daughter, a young girl, who, because he was young, comely, and under arrest, which touched her tenderness, favored Lafayette with more than a passing glance. Arrived at Bordeaux Lafayette reported at once to M. de Fumel, the Commandant, making a formal declaration before him that he alone was answerable for his conduct and actions. This done, he despatched letters to the Ministry, and to his family and friends. To his family he urged the worthiness of the cause in which he was engaged, reaffirmed his love for them, and entreated them to give him their support. To the Min- isters he justified his position, citing precedents where other French officers had joined the British forces in America, and where still others had obtained permission to enter the American army. He closed by remarking that the Ministers could talk with better grace of the sanctity of his oath of alle- giance when they began to observe their own pledges. An observation that was too true to be passed with equanimity by the government. A special courier was sent with a letter to the young Comte de Segur, requesting hun to ascertain as soon as possible whether there was any chance that the government would sanction his departure, whether harm would befall any [ 122 ] AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES of his family or friends should he disobey orders, and to return the answer at once. And now began a tedious time of waiting. It was well on into April when replies were received to his letters. The Min- isters did not respond at all, but from the Due d'Ayen came a peremptory command to go at once to Marseilles, where he and his sister, Madame de Tesse, would join him, and they would start immediately on the long-talked-of tour to Italy. From de Segur came the information that the Court was much incensed, and that there was not the remotest possibility that permission to sail would be granted. " But, mon ami," concluded the letter, " it is my belief and that of other of your friends that should you disregard orders you will compromise no one but yourself. As you well know, that may mean confiscation of your estates and imprisonment, if you are caught. Your father-in-law seems to be responsible for the most serious opposition to your plans." *' That is assurance that I need," said Lafayette to himself. " I shall go at once to the ship and sail before any other obstacle is thrown in my path." Fortified by this resolution he once more wrote to M. de Maurepas, the old Prime Minister, saying that receiving no reply to his letters, he took the government's silence to imply a tacit consent, and should govern himself accordingly. After which he sought the Commandant, M. de Fumel, and laid before him the Due d'Ayen's order to proceed to Marseilles. " I believe that it is the part of wisdom to obey that order, M. le Marquis," spoke the Commandant. " The journey to America is long and hazardous, and your family naturally wish [ 123 ] LAFAYETTE you to remain on this continent. You will find the tour to Italy one of pleasure and enjoyment. It is the part of wisdom to obey your father, and repair to Marseilles." " It may be that you are right," observed the young man briefly. " So, with your permission, Monsieur, I shall procure a carriage and depart immediately." " That I will give with pleasure," said the Commandant in relieved tones, glad that the matter was to be adjusted so amiably. " I will write the order now." Armed with this Lafayette procured a post-chaise, and, in company with a friend, the Vicomte de Mauroy, an officer who had recently arrived in Bordeaux and who was anxious to accompany him to America, set out on the route to Marseilles. As soon as the open country was reached they left the highway to Marseilles and changed their course southward toward Bayonne, through which the road led to Spain. " Do you not fear pursuit, Gilbert? " asked his friend. " Yes ; and for that reason I have brought this." Lafayette held up a package which Mauroy had noticed that he carried, then began to undo its fastenings, and presently disclosed the suit of a courier. " I not only fear pursuit, mon ami, but recognition, since it has been but a short time since I passed over this route with the King's officers. For that reason I shall adopt the disguise of a courier, and ride ahead to order the horses." It was a wise precaution. The Commandant of Bordeaux after Lafayette's departure was seized with misgivings about letting the young man start out unattended, and immediately sent some officers to watch him. In his disguise of courier [ 124 ] AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES Lafayette rode into the inn yard of the post-house at Bayonne and asked for horses. " The Vicomte de Mauroy follows in a carriage," he said. " He will want your freshest and best horses." " Ah, Monsieur," said the innkeeper bowing, "I am in despair." " How so? Have you no horses? " " Plenty, Monsieur, plenty ; but they are out, all but four." " Well then, let us have the four." " But alas. Monsieur! I have just sent the four to the blacksmith to be shod." *' Peste! " ejaculated Lafayette. *' The vicomte will be angry. He is in a hurry." ** It cannot be helped, Monsieur." " How long do you think it will take to shoe them, my good man? " "An hour; perhaps two. Not longer. Monsieur." Lafayette sighed impatiently, and turned to watch the ducks and chickens by the horse trough. " Will you wait. Monsieur? " questioned the host timidly. "And shall I prepare a meal? I will send to hasten the shoeing." " Do so," answered Lafayette. " Yes ; prepare a meal. Give us a cutlet, a fowl, some eggs, and whatever else you may have of good cheer. We shall have to accommodate ourselves to circumstances." A few moments later the carriage containing his friend en- tered the yard. Lafayette hastened to tell the vicomte the ill news. De Mauroy frowned. [ 125 ] LAFAYETTE " That is bad news indeed, Gilbert," he remarked. " The more so that our horses are spent, and I think we are fol- lowed." " I feared it," was Lafayette's comment. " There is noth- ing to do but to make the best of it. I have ordered refresh- ments, and the host promises to hasten the shoeing. But dur- ing the delay I must not be in sight." *' True, Gilbert. For the officers may be here at any in- stant." At this moment the host came from the inn bowing obse- quiously. "Will not your lordship alight?" he asked. "The meal will soon be ready, and I have sent a groom to hurry the shoe- ing of the horses." " Very well." The vicomte stepped from the carriage, and turned toward Lafayette with the manner of a master. " Do you, sir, keep an eye out for their arrival, and inform me instantly when they are come." Lafayette bowed, and turned away acquiescently. A groom now came forward to care for the horses of the carriage, and •when no one was looking Lafayette slipped into the stable, crawled quietly up into the loft, and concealed himself in the straw. It was none too soon. The sharp clatter of hoofs sounded down the highway, and presently a half dozen officers galloped into the post-house yard. A shout of triumph went up as they caught sight of the carriage. " He is here, men," cried the leader exultantly. " We have run down our quarry in short order. Here, sir," to the inn- [ 126 ] AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES keeper, who came smilingly from the house, " where are the gentlemen who came in this vehicle? " Lafayette smiled as he heard the host's answer: " There's but one gentleman. Messieurs. He is within. A vicomte travelling with his servants." At this moment De Mauroy's voice was heard. " Are you speaking of me, Messieurs? I am here." " It is about the Marquis de Lafayette, Monsieur," said the leader. " We have orders for his arrest if he goes not to Marseilles." "Well?" queried the Vicomte de Mauroy. "May I ask how that concerns me? " " But he was with you when you left Bordeaux? " remarked the leader questioningly, somewhat taken aback by the vi- comte's manner. " Of a certainty he was," answered the vicomte calmly. " We did leave the town together, but he soon left me." " And which direction did he take, my lord? " The vicomte shook his head. " Monsieur, the Marquis is my friend. As a gentleman you do not expect me to answer that." " Pardon me. Monsieur. You cannot, of course. We shall have to search the premises." The leader dismounted and turned to his men. " Go through every place thoroughly," was his command. " I don't see how he could have given us the slip. He must be somewhere about this inn." Search they did; but, although one man came up into the loft, he did not think to burrow into the straw where Lafaj^ette lay. They left at length, but not until three hours had passed, [ 127 ] LAFAYETTE during which Lafayette lay sweltering under the hay. The horses, newly shod, were soon harnessed to the carriage, and then, brushing the straw from his clothing, Lafayette saun- tered into the yard. The Vicomte de Mauroy was already seated in the post-chaise. He turned toward his friend an- grily. " Where have you been, rascal? " he demanded. " Loiter- ing and loafing as usual, I'll be bound. Had it not been for this good man and his grooms I would have been served but illy. Mount your horse, and begone. See that at the next inn you behave better else I shall have a new courier." And Lafayette mounted and dashed away at speed. Matters went well with them after this until they reached St.-Jean-de-Luz. It was their last stop before reaching Los Pasajes, where La Victoire lay. It was here that the inn- keeper's daughter had noticed Lafayette so closely. The girl was standing by her father's side when Lafayette, still dis- guised as a courier, rode into the yard, and asked for horses. She recognized him instantly as the young officer who had passed through the village under arrest a short time before, and uttered an exclamation of surprise. Her father turned to- ward her quickly. " What ails thee, lass? " he queried. As he spoke Lafayette laid his finger quietly upon his lips. A look of comprehension flashed into the girl's eyes. She put her hand quickly to her cheek. " It, it was a bee," she faltered. " I was afraid that it would sting me." Her father laughed. " Such silly things as girls be," he [ 128 ] AFTER MANY DIFFICULTIES apologized to Lafayette. " Men don't cry out until they are stung. The horses will be ready right away, Monsieur." De Mauroy entered with the carriage soon after, the horses were changed, and away they started on the last stage of their journey. Years later Lafayette found out that his pursuers came into the inn yard shortly after he had left and had asked the young girl if she had seen a carriage containing two officers. She replied that she had seen such a carriage but that it con- tained no such persons as were described. The baffled pur- suers gave up the chase, and returned forthwith to Bordeaux, while Lafayette and his friend reached Los Pasajes safely. So, after six months of anxiety and labor Lafayette stood at last on the deck of La Victoire, embarked upon his great purpose, — ^his chivalric intention of helping America. On the twentieth of April he gave the order to set saO. ( 129] CHAPTER XII The Land of Desire AS the shores of France receded from his view the delight that he had felt in eluding his pursuers faded also, and a thousand doubts began to assail Lafayette as to the wisdom of his course. He was leaving behind him all that he held dear — ^his wife, his child, his family and his friends. He could not at this instant find any excuse for his conduct. He feared that he had allowed his enthusiasm to run away with his judgment. "And yet," he soliloquized, " the exile prescribed by the Due d'Ayen to Italy and Sicily would have lasted until January, and letters from those countries to Adrienne would take equally as long to reach her as they will from America. In the United States the occupation and situation will be very different from those that were intended for me during that useless journey. Whilst defending the liberty I adore, I shall enjoy perfect freedom myself." This thought consoled him, and while he longed for his loved ones he took pleasure in thinking that he would return more [ 130 ] THE LAND OF DESIRE worthy of them. At first there was a fair wind and smooth sailing, but soon the weather changed, and contrary winds and rough seas assailed the ship. Lafayette was never a good sailor, and the rolling and pitching of the vessel soon made him, and his fellow voyagers as well, very ill. He suffered severely, but recovered before the others, and soon reappeared on deck. It was high time. As was the custom with vessels sailing at this time for America La Victoire had cleared for the West Indies. Once arrived at these islands the ships would clear again for France then, watching for an opportunity, would slip past the blockade maintained by the British into American ports. But Lafay- ette had given orders that once upon the open sea the ship should be headed straight for the United States. He knew that at the West Indies there would be orders for his arrest and detention, and he was not minded to risk another conflict with his government. In fact, after his departure in order to appease the English Ambassador the Ministers had sent two light vessels to the Leeward and Windward Islands with or- ders to stop him on his road. When off the Canaries what was his amazement to find that the captain of La Victoire was still keeping to the route toward the West Indies. Lafayette ex- pressed his astonishment. " Captain," he said, " it seems to me that we are making for the West Indies." " True, M. le Marquis," replied Captain Le Boursier briefly. " We are following the usual route for those islands." " But did I not desire you to steer straight for the United States? " [ 131 ] LAFAYETTE " Yes, M. le Marquis; but to do so is to risk the capture of the vessel. If we are caught our ship's papers, being taken out for the West Indies, would protect us only if we are in the passage leading to those islands. Otherwise we chance having our cargo taken, and we ourselves made prisoners. Captivity means that we would be sent to the dungeons at Halifax, or, worse still, to a prison ship. Has Monsieur heard of the ter- rible prison ships that are maintained by the English near New York? " " Yes ; I have heard of them," Lafayette told him calmly. " But, on the other hand, as we are now headed we run the chance of capture by unfriendly French warships as well as by British frigates, for both will be hovering about the ap- proaches to the West Indies. Even though we should succeed in passing them our peril would be great when we would try to run the blockade of the American shores. It seems to me by following the West Indian route we are exposed to a double risk. I have no doubt also. Captain, that should we continue this course we would find orders for my arrest at the ports. Therefore, the ship must make directly for the United States. A straight course will, I am told, bring us to Charleston, South Carolina." The captain shook his head. " It cannot be done," he said stubbornly. " But it must be. Monsieur," declared Lafayette, amazed at the man's attitude. " If it is not done there will follow delays if not fatal involvements." Again Captain Le Boursier shook his head. " No," he insisted with dogged persistence. " I am the [ 132 ] THE SKIPPER MET LAFAYETTE'S GLANCE WITH DETERMINATION THE LAND OF DESIRE skipper, and my ship shall go to the place that her papers call for." "And may I remind you, Monsieur, that I am the owner of the ship ? " Lafayette was more and more astonished. He supposed that it had been clearly understood before the vessel left the pier that her course was to be altered as soon as the open sea was reached. " It matters not who is the owner, I am in command, and the vessel goes as I direct." The skipper folded his arms and met Lafayette's glance with one of determination. Lafayette was young in years, but had already shown him- self to be a man of unbending resolution by the manner in which he had carried out his design of going to America. The present occasion found hun equal to the emergency. " Very well, Monsieur. As you persist in your opposition to my wishes, I shall have you put in irons, and give the com- mand to the second officer." The captain gave him a startled glance. Was it possible that this youth, who was not yet twenty years old, would do as he said ? He himself was a veteran seaman, and had supposed that once out on the ocean he could manage this boy, owner though he was. He had his private reasons for wishing to go to the West Indies. It was unbelievable that so young a man should thwart him. He glanced about him. A number of the crew had gathered near, and stood listening to the contro- versy. Lafayette's trials and difficulties in getting away from France were well known to them, and he stood to them in the light of a hero. The captain saw where their sympathies lay. He looked again at the young man before him, and quailed as [ 133 ] LAFAYETTE he noted the inexorable resolution expressed upon his counte- nance. " Do you really mean that you will take the command from me, M. le Marquis?" " Most assuredly, Monsieur." Lafayette's tones left no doubt of his sincerity. " But in case we are captured by the English what will be- come of my stores. Monsieur? How shall I be repaid for their loss? " he asked. "Your stores? What stores?" queried Lafayette. The purchase price had included the cargo, and he had no knowl- edge of other stores. " Some that I brought aboard to sell for myself. Monsieur. I expect to realize forty thousand francs from their sale in the West Indies." "Ah!" ejaculated the young man. "I understand now why you do not wish to deflect from the Indies route. Your real reason is that you fear a personal loss. Is it not so? " " But yes, Monsieur. A poor man must make a franc when the opportunity presents itself. And I have a family." " But if I indemnify you from loss by capture, M. le Cap- tain? What then?" " Then? " The captain smiled and shrugged his shoulders. " Then, Monsieur, there is no controversy between us. I shall do as Monsieur directs." " And you will sail directly for the coast of the United States?" " Yes, Monsieur." " Then be it so." r 134] THE LAND OF DESIRE Forthwith the agreement was drawn up between them. The skipper at once changed the course of the vessel while Lafay- ette sought De Kalb, who was still ill, and related the in- cident. " The man should have been ironed both for his recalcitrancy and for smuggling goods aboard," growled the gruff old sol- dier, who was a martinet for discipline. " True, my friend; but none of us wish to lose time to return to France to prefer a charge against him. To indemnify him against loss was the simplest way out of the difficulty." *' You are right, Marquis," returned De Kalb. "And we are already late for the Spring Campaign as it is." There was no more trouble with the captain, who steered in a straightforward direction for the United States. Lafayette did not like the sea. To him it was a dreary region, so melan- choly that it saddened him. To him the days succeeded each other with unvarying monotony. Always sky, always water, ship life was most wearisome to him. Even contrary winds and violent storms did not relieve the dreariness of such an existence. To pass the time he studied the English language and wrote long letters to his wife filled with love and tender- ness. J/tt Victoire was a slow sailing vessel, so poorly equipped for arms that she was not of sufficient force for defense, so a sharp outlook was kept for ships, and every precaution taken that was possible whenever a sail was descried. At night not a candle was lighted, and at sight of a ship the course was veered that she might avoid it. There were several slight alarms, but on the whole the voyagers were favored, and spent the time of [ 135 ] LAFAYETTE the passage peacefully. And then, after seven long, dreary weeks, there came a day when a thrill of excitement ran through the ship ; for, in the far distance, could be seen the dark blue and purplish shadows that told of land; and this brought the minds of all to the end of their journey, with thoughts of the crisis drawing near. They had crossed the ocean safely, but was it possible that they could land without an engage- ment? So, with that glimmer of land in the distance that filled them with anticipation, the charges of the guns were renewed. Also word was passed that at any moment the ship must be cleared for action. And yet, though their elation was tem- pered by anxiety, the glory of the summer weather gave hope and confidence to their minds. The wind was fair and good, and sea birds hovered overhead. Suddenly from out of the purplish mist of the land came a vessel which bore rapidly down upon them. They were too close to escape, and the adventurers crowded upon the deck of La Victoire stood watching the ship's approach with apprehension. " I shall throw myself into the sea before I shall be taken," declared one, a Captain de Bedaulx, a Dutch officer who had deserted from the Royal army. Lafayette looked around at the arms of his vessel which consisted of two cannon and a few muskets. "We'll fight if we have to," he said. "But if we are brought to and boarded, will you help me to blow up the ship, mon ami? " " I will, Marquis," answered the Dutch officer solemnly. But as the ship drew nearer they were overjoyed to see that [ 136 1 THE LAND OF DESIRE she displayed the American national colors. She proved to be a privateer. Drawing alongside she hailed them: "Ship ahoy!" " Ahoy! " answered the skipper of ha Victoire. " What vessel are you? Where are you bound? " "La Victoire, from Bordeaux, France. Bound for Charles- ton, South Carolina, with French officers aboard who desire to help America," was the answer. " Better keep as close alongside us then as you can. Two British frigates are near by watching the coast." La Victoire tried to follow this advice, but the privateer was a fast sailing vessel and a strong northerly wind soon left the French ship far in the wake of the other. What seemed like a calamity proved to be a blessing in disguise. As the privateer speeded on her way two ships came out of the distance and bore down upon her. A rumble of guns told of an engage- ment, and the American was soon obliged to strike her colors. The northerly wind favored La Victoire, blowing the two British vessels far to the south, permitting her to slip into a bay on the American shore which stretched invitingly before her. She came to anchor at two o'clock in the afternoon, June thirteenth, just fifty-four days after she had left Los Pasajes. There was no settlement at this point, and there was no one on board sufficiently acquainted with the coast to tell where they were; so Lafayette, De Kalb, Chevalier du Buysson and an American named Price started in a yawl manned by a lieu- tenant and seven men, to find out, and to pick up a pilot to bring in the vessel. Joyously they started, believing that they would have to go but a short distance before they were success- [ 137 ] LAFAYETTE ful, but on and on they rowed, and there was still no sign of a settlement or sight of human habitation. The shores were marshy, thickly covered by salt water sedge which extended back to higher land where forests of palmetto trees reared their tall heads. The bogs and swamps precluded the idea of any- one unacquainted with the coast from undertaking a landing, so on and on rowed the men in the yawl. The day waned, twilight fell, and then the darkness of the soft Southern night. A silence through which crept the cold of disappointment fell upon them, chilling their hearts, though the night was balmy. The stillness and strangeness of every- thing wore upon them. A whippoorwill sounded his pathetic cry, and a screech-owl moaned uncannily. " Gentlemen," spoke Lafayette suddenly, " I know that you are as eager as I am to find a pilot. Sometimes discretion is the better part of wisdom, so it may be wise for us to return to the ship. We knoAv not how much farther we must go, or whether we may not have come to an uninhabited part of the coast. What think you? Is it not best to go back? " " I confess that I weary of the ship, and would like to set foot ashore, Marquis," answered De Kalb, " but I agree with you. It seems best that we turn back, as it is very dark, and we do not know the channel." The others agreed with him, and Lafayette was just about to give the order to face about when one of the seamen cried: *' There are boats ahead, Monsieur. Boats and men." Instantly all was animation, and there was a straining of necks in the direction indicated. " Let us go to them," cried Lafayette as he sighted them. [ 138 ] THE LAND OF DESIRE There was a general straightening up, and the sailors eagerly pulled toward the boats which proved to be flat-bot- tomed ones filled with men who were dragging the water. " Halloo ! " cried Price, the American. " Halloo yourself, sah," answered a voice with an unmis- takable negro accent. " They are darkies dragging for oysters," exclaimed Price. " There surely must be a plantation near. Is there any pilot to be had near by? " he questioned. " Yes, sah. Dere am a pilot on North Island, sah, but de tide am going down, and hit will be ha'd to get dere wid dat boat." " That is so," observed the lieutenant in command of the sailors. " The tide is ebbing fast, and there are too many shoals to venture further with a yawl." " Would it not be wise for two or three of us to go with these men to find the pilot? " suggested Lafayette. " We could bring him to the ship, and so avoid exhausting all of us." "A good suggestion," approved De Kalb. " If the pilot is too far away perhaps we might find shelter for the night, and bring him to the ship in the morning. Ask them," turning toward Price, " where their master lives." "Are you far from your master's house? " questioned Price. "And is it far from the pilot's? " " No, sah. Massa Ugee's place am not very far from heah, and hit am very near de pilot's. You all could stay wid him if you'd like to. He am pleased to hab company." After a hasty parley it was decided that Lafayette, De Kalb and two other officers should go with the darkies to get the [ 139 ] LAFAYETTE pilot while the yawl returned to the vessel. Arrangements were soon concluded, and Lafayette and his companions stepped into a flat-bottomed, leaky oyster boat, and were poled up the inlet and put ashore. It was midnight. Above them the stars shone brightly, and around them were dark masses of trees and foliage, lighted only by innumerable firefhes. Weird cries of night creatures came out of the forest and the bay. A short distance from the waterside shone a light, steady and brilliant, as from the win- dow of a dwelling, and a closer inspection proved that it did indeed come from a house. Toward it the weary voyagers made their way. Dogs began to bark as they drew near, and a commotion arose within the dwelling. Presently from one of the windows sounded a voice: " Who are you, and what do you want? " As Price, the American, had been one of the men to return with the yawl, De Kalb was the only one who could speak English sufficiently to make himself understood. So, acting as spokesman, he replied: " The Marquis de Lafayette with a party of French gentle- men, Monsieur. We have come to help the American cause. Our ship lies at the mouth of the bay, and we are seeking a pilot to bring her in." There came a surprised exclamation, folloAved by a hasty undoing of bolts and chains. The door was thrown wide, and a man appeared on the threshold with outstretched hands. " Welcome, gentlemen," he cried in hearty tones. " We feared that we were visited by British marauders. They have an unwelcome habit of dropping down upon waterside planta- [ 140 ] THE LAND OF DESIRE tions from their frigates. Come in! Come in! You must be weary and hungry. A pilot may be had in the morning, but to-night I entreat that you will pleasure me by giving me your company. Wife, some refreshment for the gentlemen. Come right in ! " Warmed to the heart by this cheery welcome, the voyagers gladly entered the hospitable mansion. (1411 .^ CHAPTER XIII Lafayette Receives a Shock THE singing of birds awoke Lafayette the next morn- ing. He lay for a few moments in that delightful borderland between sleeping and waking, not realiz- ing where he was. Gradually the events of the night before came back to him, and he sat up quickly. He had reached the Land of his Desire, and was filled with a lively curiosity con- cerning it. He was in a great four-poster bed under a canopy of mos- quito netting. The room was large, airy, and exceedingly comfortable with an unmistakable air of refinement that ap- pealed gratefully to the senses of a nobleman who had been for seven long weeks without the comforts of a gentleman's house. Through the open windows came the warblings of the feath- ered songsters that had awakened him. Wondering what kind of birds they were, the young man slipped from the great bed, and going to one of the windows glanced out. It was a strange new world upon which he gazed. On every side was the luxurious vegetation of a semi-tropical clime. Plants and shrubs covered with bright blossoms nodded in the [ 142 ] LAFAYETTE RECEIVES A SHOCK balmy air; tall trees with fragrant white blooms caught his eye ; live oaks, cypress and sycamore trees, with other trees and shrubs new and strange to him made the landscape take on a magical aspect, and filled him with indescribable sensations. Then and there Lafayette took oath with himself that he would conquer in the cause he had come to help, or perish in the contest. At this moment the door opened to admit a negro servant, who brought him a cup of black coffee. After which he brought hot and cold water for his ablutions, and assisted him with his toilet, talking volublj'^ all the while, to Lafayette's amusement, who could understand but little of what he said. His toilet completed, the young man was shown into the dining- room, where his host and hostess awaited him. The host proved to be Major Benjamin Huger,' a staunch liberty man. He told his guest that JLa Victoire had anchored in an inlet of Georgetown Bay, about fifteen miles from the city of George- town, and sixty miles northeast of Charleston. A little boy, five years of age, was playing about the room, and, as Lafay- ette's companions entered and the conversation became gen- eral, he crept closer and closer to the Marquis, attracted by the glitter of the gold hilt of his sword and the buttons of his uni- form. Lafayette lifted the little fellow to his knee, his thoughts flying back to his own little one so far away. " What is your name, my boy? " he asked in his broken English, for he could speak the language but little. The child understood, however; possibly because it was always the ques- tion asked by strangers. * Pronounced Ugee. [ 143 ] LAFAYETTE *' Francis Kinlock Huger," he told the officer quickly. Lafayette repeated it after him, little dreaming that in after years he would have great cause to remember it. The Hugers were kindness itself to the weary voyagers, who soon recuper- ated under their ministrations. To Lafayette's joy he was told that there was a vessel lying at Georgetown which was waiting the opportunity to slip out and sail for France, and that his letters to his wife could be sent by it. Gladly he despatched them. It was INIajor Huger's opinion that the water in the bay was too shallow to admit the bringing in of La Victoire, so Lafay- ette sent a pilot with a message to Captain Le Boursier to take the ship with the cargo and the officers who had remained on board round to Charleston, where he would join them. As the day wore on and he heard more and more of the depredations that British frigates were committing, he sent other messen- gers, both by land and sea, with orders to the skipper that if he met one of the enemy he should put every man ashore and burn the vessel. So heartily did Major Huger enter into his plans, so warmly did he second them by trying to assist him in every possible way that Lafayette was delighted. It fulfilled his ideal of the people he had come to serve, and it was with tender regret that he bade his host and family farewell, and set out on his journey to Charleston. The Huger plantation was situated in so remote a district that no conveyance could be obtained for the journey, and the major had but two horses which he at once placed at the Marquis's disposal. The other two officers insisted that La- [ 144 ] LAFAYETTE RECEIVES A SHOCK fayette and De Kalb should take the horses while they would walk, whereupon their host laughingly told them of the custom that prevailed throughout the South. " When there are four men to go upon a journey," he said, " and but two horses for the party, two of the men will mount and ride for a few miles, then dismount, tie the horses by the roadside, and trudge on. The men in the rear coming to where the animals are tied, then mount and ride a few miles in their turn, when the process of leaving the horses is repeated. In this manner, riding turn and turn about, sometimes long dis- tances are travelled." Assuring him that in this they would prove themselves good Americans the travellers set out. It was sixty miles to Charleston, and the road lay through sandy plains, and by bogs and morasses. A scorching sun beat down upon them, so when, after three long, hot days, the little party entered the city they were in a pitiable condition. They found JLa Victoire in the harbor waiting their appearance. Fortune had again favored her, and the vessel had made the run without encoun- tering either friend or foe. At this time there were few newspapers and fewer mails, so the arrival at the taverns of strangers was an event of real importance to the inhabitants of the towns and cities. No sooner did the news of their presence get abroad than many of the principal men of the place gathered at the hostelry to wel- come the pilgrims, ask questions of them, and listen to the tales they brought from the outside world. And so it was with Lafayette and his party. No sooner did it become knoMTi who he and his companions were, and what was their errand, [ 145 ] LAFAYETTE than they were welcomed with the greatest cordiality. Lafay- ette in particular was treated with the honor due a Marechal of France. Mr. Rutledge, the Governor of the State, called upon him, as also did General Moultrie and the American General Howe. They showed him the fortifications of the city, and the ship- building yards, boasting proudly that South Carolina pos- sessed a small navy of her own which, acting as privateersmen, had already brought in several prizes from the seas, and hoped to bring in many more. They told, too, with some pride of the attack which the British fleet under Sir Peter Barker had made upon the city the previous year, and how he had been so repulsed that he could not get past Sullivan Island. Lafayette was charmed with Charleston and its people. The simplicity of their manners, the desire to please, the love of country and liberty, and, above all, the equality among them, where the smallest landowner had the same rights as the greatest holder of estates, enchanted him. America indeed seemed to him an ideal Land of Desire. To him and to his companions it appeared the faultless community of Rousseau's imagination. But pleasant as it was in Charleston, Lafayette was anxious to get on to Philadelphia, where the Congress was in session. Dining and being feted were not all of his mission. There- fore he began to make preparations for going to the Quaker City. It was essential to provide funds to equip his expedi- tion, and he had counted upon the sale of his rich cargo to do this. The money was needed not only for himself but for his companions in adventure, who looked to him to supply them [ 146 ] LAFAYETTE RECEIVES A SHOCK with money and necessaries for the trip. Therefore, he was astonished when Captain Le Boursier produced an agreement which provided that the vessel should be brought back to France with its cargo, there to be sold, the proceeds to be applied upon the balance of the purchasing price, the insur- ance, and the commission. In his haste to get out of the country he had signed the contract without fully understand- ing it, a fact of which the sellers had taken advantage. The knowledge of what he had done came as a shock, but it was a situation that had to be faced. He rallied his energies and met it. With some difficulty he succeeded in negotiating a loan with which he purchased supplies and conveyances for his outfit. La Victoire sailed for home, but the good fortune which had prevailed during Lafayette's ownership forsook her, and she was wrecked upon a sand-bar just outside the harbor. Lafayette found that supplies were hard to get. The war had been going on for more than two years, and while Carolina had not yei been swept by the deluge of fire and sword that afterward overwhelmed her, she had sent her quotas of men and supplies to the main army beside keeping up her State troops so that conveyances and horses were hard to come by. At length, however, having bought such carriages and animals as could be obtained, and having taken a regretful leave of their friends, the company set out on their nine hundred mile journey to Philadelphia. The roads were very bad, and the travelling in consequence was rough, while the weather was extremely hot, so that the [ 147 ] LAFAYETTE French gentlemen soon began to suffer from the heat. La- fayette, however, bore the discomfort without a murmur. He was so enchanted with the country and its people that weather, mosquitoes and rough roads seemed trifling annoyances. The novelty of everything appealed to him, and he noted the diver- sity of the topography of the country, and the varied pursuits of the inhabitants with increasing enthusiasm. The way lay along the seacoast, sometimes among salt marshes, sometimes among the rice and indigo fields of more inland swamps, sometimes across broad Savannahs and pine barrens, sometimes over great rivers and fresh water lakes, and sometimes through vast forests of majestic trees which the axe had never touched. The French gentlemen, — who in their journeys in France had been accustomed to the sight of misery and starvation, of a ragged and densely ignorant peasantry whose countenances expressed only despair, — were sti*uck with astonishment at the modest comfort, prosperity, and contentment of the people among whom they passed. They were unassuming, exhibiting the quiet pride of men who have no master, who saw nothing above them except the law, and who were free from the servil- ity and prejudices of European society. That was the picture that throughout the journey never ceased to interest and de- light them. Whenever they reached a town the greatest kindnesses and courtesies were shown them. If there was no tavern they were entertained at some private house. They were sure to meet with a hospitality that knew no respect of persons. But the journey was not without its unpleasant incidents. [ 148 1 LAFAYETTE RECEIVES A SHOCK Lafayette had known that the United States consisted of the thirteen colonies lying along the Atlantic seaboard, but the term had conveyed no idea to him, or to his companions, the vast extent of country that it embraced. There were fre- quently long stretches where there were no towns, and the party was obliged to camp by the roadside, and to sleep in the woods. Upon one of these occasions they had travelled for three days through a great forest over a very rough road which seemed to become more rugged and rocky the further they advanced. In the middle of the afternoon of the third day a loud, splintering noise startled the little company into sudden attention. A cry from one of the aides brought La- fayette and De Kalb out of their carriage. " Monsieur le Marquis ! Monsieur le Marquis, the carriages have broken down! " came the shout. Ruefully the company gathered about the wreck of the car- riages. The one containing the luggage was splintered so as to be utterly useless; that in which the aides had been seated was in but little better condition. The vehicles had been none too good to start with, and the bad roads were not conducive to conserve their usefulness. Lafayette merely shrugged his shoulders. " We must expect mishaps, gentlemen, on a journey as long as this," he said. " We will leave the luggage by the road- side, — indeed, we cannot do otherwise, — and send for it when we reach the next town. Fortunately the horses that were attached to the carriage are left, and you will have to ride them. It is merely a change from a carriage to a horse, which is not so bad as it might be. Think of the welcome that awaits us [ 149 ] LAFAYETTE in Philadelphia, and be consoled. We will laugh at such mis- haps there." His spirits infected the others, and soon the matter was regarded as a joke rather than a misfortune, and the journey was resumed in high spirits. They came out of the forest at nightfall, and secured entertainment at the small hamlet that lay beyond. The next day Lafayette sent a new conveyance back for the luggage. But alas! even the best of countries have their drawbacks, and this Land of Desire proved to be no exception. 'No Utopia has yet been discovered that did not have undesirable citizens, and some of these characters had stolen the greater part of the luggage. *' There will be the less to carry," was Lafayette's only com- ment. " We can replace what is lost when we get to Phila- delphia." And so it went. Nothing could daunt the boy. The horses, some of which were old and unsteady, were worn out or went lame, and the officers had to walk until they could procure others. Often supplies ran short, and they went hungry until they could reach the towns. The weather was intensely hot, and some of them became ill; still others were near complete exhaustion. At Annapolis a few dropped out, and would continue no further. The rest, incited by Lafayette's enthu- siasm, went on. At last, — after thirty-two days of wearisome marching, they came one hot morning in July into Phila- delphia, the city where the Congress met. They had passed through the two Carolinas, Virginia, Mary- land, and Delaware, and were fatigued to the point of ex- haustion, but their spirits rose as they entered the city. They [ 150 ] LAFAYETTE RECEIVES A SHOCK had reached their goal at last. Repairing to an inn they stayed only long enough to make themselves presentable, and then, filled with joyous anticipation, they marched up Chestnut Street to the Hall of Congress. Lafayette asked to see the President of the body, and presently they were shown into a room where that gentleman, Mr. John Hancock, was seated. He received them with formal politeness. " Mr. INIorris, a member of the Congress, has charge of Foreign Affairs," he told them when their mission was ex- plained to him. " I will send you to him, and he will examine your contracts and credentials." But Mr. Morris was in the midst of a Committee Meeting, and could spare them but a few moments. He took their papers, however, saying: " I will examine these when I have more leisure, gentlemen. If you will kindly meet me in the morning at ten o'clock at the door of this building I will confer with you." Chilled by this reception, yet realizing that the Congress must in truth have much business in hand, the weary travellers went back to their inn. Punctually the next morning at the appointed hour they appeared before the door of the Congress, but no Mr. Morris M^as there. An hour went by ; another, and still another, and he had not come. At length, when the fourth hour of waiting was nearing its close Mr. Morris, accompanied by another gentleman of the Congress, appeared. " This is Mr. Lovell, gentlemen," he said, presenting his companion. " He speaks French excellently well, and there- fore has been entrusted with matters concerning your nation- [ 151 ] LAFAYETTE ality. Hereafter your communications will be with him. I bid you good-morning." With this he left them, and the Frenchmen turned expect- antly toward the newcomer. *' Gentlemen," spoke Mr. Lovell abruptly, " we authorized Mr. Deane to send us engineers, but the ones he sent pretended to be engineers but are not. We asked for artillerists, but the ones that have come have never even seen service. We then instructed Mr. Franklin to send us engineers, and they have come. It seems that French officers have a great fancy to enter our service without being invited. It is true that we had need of officers last year, but now we have experienced men, and plenty of them. Good-morning! " The travellers gazed at each other in blank amazement. They had come three thousand miles across the ocean, marched a fatiguing land trip of nine hundred miles only to be told that they were not wanted. [ 153 ] CHAPTER XIV The Reason Why FOR a long moment the Frenchmen stood ahiiost stupe- fied, not knowing what to make of this reception. They had so comited upon their welcome at Philadelphia. That had been the chief thing that had sustained them during their trying march, and now What could it mean? Lafayette was the first to break the silence. " Gentlemen, before we pass judgment let us find out what lies behind this. There must be some reason else we would not be so received. It may be that some of our compatriots who have preceded us have misconducted themselves, and as yet the Congress cannot distinguish between them and us. Let us now discover the cause of the affront before making any com- plaint." Lafayette had spoken truly. There was reason, and good reason, for the attitude of Congress. Men were needed in the American army, and Mr. Deane had been instructed to offer commissions to a few French officers experienced in military tactics. But, beset by requests for employment from idle [ 153 1 LAFAYETTE Frenchmen whom he feared to offend, he had promised com- missions beyond his authority. The men, as a rule, were mili- tary adventurers who cared little for the merits of either side, and who sought only honors and emoluments for themselves. The streets of Philadelphia at this very time were thronged with foreign officers who swaggered through them amidst the growing aversion and indignation of the citizens. Nearly all of these men were loaded with debt, and some of them had left their own army in disgrace. The worst of these adventurers came from the West Indies and other French Colonies to whom the Governors had given letters of recommendation be- cause they were glad to get rid of them. In many cases where some of these men had been granted commissions in the army the feeling was very strong both among the Continental officers and in Congress itself that the confidence had been misplaced. Congress thus embarrassed from the numerous applications al- ready received was unprepared for further solicitations. Those of the foreigners who had shown themselves to be brave, true men — men who hated oppression — were regarded with gratitude and esteem by the Americans, but there were many who possessed neither merit nor ability. The offer of their services was invariably accompanied by such exorbitant demands as to rank and remuneration that they could not be complied with; also the majoritj^ of these men did not care to take the trouble to learn the language, and could not have given orders had they been given commands. There were, in addition to the foregoing reasons, the American officers to be considered. In many cases they had recruited the men they commanded. It would not have been right to these officers to [ 154 ] THE REASON WHY supersede them by men whose only claim to recognition was the fact that they came from an older country. So Lafayette and his party had come at an unfavorable mo- ment. At a time when Congress was sickened by the demands of strangers for appointment and high rank in the army, and failed at first to distinguish between this party and others who had preceded them. The Frenchmen, therefore, rightly attributed their recep- tion to the misconduct of certain compatriots who had come be- fore them, and soon heard of the bad behavior of several of them, and the discredit which their actions had thrown upon letters of recommendation. It was not strange that in the con- dition of public feeling the arrival of a new contingent of French officers did not excite great pleasure, or that their re- ception was more like a " dismissal than a welcome." They were disconcerted, but Lafayette did not allow himself to become so. He shrewdly suspected that his letters had not been read, and he determined to present himself to CongTess directly and to be heard. He had left France against the or- ders of his King, thereby bringing the monarch's displeasure upon him; he had risked capture upon the ocean, and beaten down all obstacles to get to America; he wanted nothing for himself save the opportunity to fight for the benefit of liberty ; he felt, too, that his employment by the Americans would help them in France: therefore, he made up his mind that he was not going to be turned from his purpose because one gentleman from the Congress told him that no more French officers were needed. So, with the sublime audacity of youth and the enthusiasm [ 155 ] LAFAYETTE which nothing can daunt, he prepared an address in which he set forth his circumstances, and his reasons for being there. He could not speak English sufficiently well to plead his case in person, but he succeeded in having the address read. In the course of the document he said: *' After the sacrifices I have made, I have the right to exact two favors: One is to serve at my own expense; the other, to serve at first as a volunteer." This style was very different from that which they were ac- customed to hearing from foreign officers, and it attracted the immediate attention of the members of Congress. Foreigners usually made such exorbitant demands that a youth who asked merely to serve at his own expense was a personage worth look- ing after; so Mr. Lovell was sent again to confer with the Frenchmen. He was accompanied by another member who drew Lafayette aside for a private conference. He sounded the young man to draw him out, examined his letters, and finally went away well pleased. His report was such that Con- gi'ess immediately took action. The extreme youth of the young man, the letters he brought with him, his unquestioned rank and influence in France, and the enthusiasm displayed by him in the American cause appealed to them, so they passed a resolution commending his zeal in the cause of liberty, and making him a Major-General. Lafayette was overjoyed when he received his commission, and at once wrote to Congress thanking them warmly for the appointment, and asking as an additional favor that he might be allowed to serve near the person of the Commander-in- Chief. Always and ever after receiving his appointment he [ 156 ] THE REASON WHY regarded himself as an American. It was the thirty-first of July when he received it, and at the same time came an invita- tion to a dinner that had been arranged for the next day in honor of General Washington. At this time the tide of war was moving toward Philadel- phia. The appearance of Howe's fleet off the mouth of the Delaware seemed to threaten the city, and Washington had left his camp to confer with Congress. Lafayette rejoiced that he was so soon to meet the Commander-in-Chief, and went to the dinner filled with anticipation. As soon as he entered the long room of the City Tavern he glanced about in search of the man he longed to see. A majestic figure standing in the midst of a group of men consisting of some members of Congress, officers of the army, and citizens, at once caught his eye, and he knew instinctively that he stood in the presence of George Washington. Instantly he fixed his eyes upon him with that keen atten- tion that sight of a great man always inspires. This was the singular man who was the soul and support of the Revolution. He was of tall and noble stature, straight as an Indian, well proportioned, fine, cheerful, open countenance, with blue-gray, penetrating eyes, widely separated and overhung by heavy brows. His mouth was large, and firmly closed; his manner affable, and his carriage one of extreme dignity. As Lafay- ette gazed at him Mr. James Lovell hastened forward to greet him, then led him to the Commander-in-Chief. " General Washington, our new recruit, the Marquis de La- fayette," he said. " So zealous is he in the cause of liberty that he asks only the privilege of drawing his sword in her behalf." [ 157 ] LAFAYETTE General Washington extended his hand with a smile. " I can sympathize with that desire," he said. " I remember that as a young man my own inclinations were strongly bent to arms. War is terrible, and yet after all there is something at- tractive about military life." As Lafayette was about to reply the dinner was announced, and Washington led the way to the table. Throughout the long repast Washington observed the youth keenly. He saw a noble looking young man with deep red hair. His forehead, though receding, was fine, his eye 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, mingled with something of the pride of conscious manliness. His manners were frank and amiable, and the General noted with pleasure the modesty of his deportment in beautiful contrast to that of most of the foreign officers who conducted themselves with arrogance toward the Americans. As the party was about to break up he drew Lafayette aside. " You take great interest in Liberty, I hear, Marquis," he said. " It is unusual for so young a man to be such a devotee. How did you come to be interested in America? " And Lafayette told him of the dinner at Metz, and how his sympathy had been enlisted for America, and how that very night he resolved that he would come to help her in the struggle for Independence. He told, too, of the obstacles that he had encountered in carrying out his desire, and ended by express- ing his delight that the Congress had bestowed a Commission upon him. I 158 ] AND SO BEGAN THAT TENDER FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN THE TWO MEN THE REASON WHY Washington listened with deep interest. When Lafayette had finished his story he said earnestly : " It was a chivalric thing to leave your young wife, your child, and your friends to come to help a struggling people in their fight for liberty, Marquis. Perhaps it was unwise and imprudent, but it is the Quixotism that one loves. Will you not pleasure me by making Headquarters your home while you are with us? Consider it your own house, and come to us soon. Our family is very pleasant, and we shall be delighted to be honored by your presence. Do not balk me of this, I pray you, as I desire it very ardently." Then smilingly he added: " I cannot promise you the luxury of a Court, but since you have become an American soldier you will doubtless submit cheerfully to the customs and privations of a Republican Army." " It would give me great pleasure," cried Lafayette, his face beaming. " I desire above all things to be near your person. How kind of you to ask me! " He was so frankly delighted by the invitation, so plainly un- able to realize his good fortune that again Washington smiled upon him. " The kindness is upon your side in accepting," he said graciously. " We shall expect you as soon as you can make your arrangements to come. Marquis." "And that will indeed be soon," replied Lafayette. And so began that tender friendship that ever afterward ex- isted between the two men who were to share great perils in defense of the principles so dear to both of them. [ 159 1 CHAPTER XV Lafayette Proves His Mettle THE next day after the public dinner Washington in- vited Lafayette to go with him on a tour of inspection of the forts lying about the city. As soon as it was rumored that General Howe contemplated an attack upon Philadelphia a systematic scheme of defense had been put in operation. Active measures were initiated for gathering the militia, sinking obstructions in the Delaware, and picketing eveiy spot along the river which might be used for a landing place. Lafayette was strongly interested in all that he saw for, in common with most Europeans, the capture of what was considered the Capital City of the United States seemed to him would be nothing short of a calamity. He feared that it would bring the Revolution to an end. A few days later he moved his equipage to the American Camp. The army at this time was encamped on the old York Road in the broad meadows of the Neshaminy Creek, in Bucks County. It was a temporary cantonment, for Washington was puzzled as to the destination of the British general, and wished to be where he could move to meet the enemy at a mo- [ 160 ] LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE ment's notice. If Howe's intentions were to make a dash up the Hudson to aid Burgoyne, he wished to be where he could march to intercept him ; if the British general were making for Philadelphia he wished to be where he could defend the city; if Charleston were the destination then he could not follow, but would strike at the English forces remaining in the north. The Commander-in-Chief was confronted by the problem of defending an extensive country with an inadequate force. Lafayette arrived in camp just as Washington in company with Generals Stirling, Greene, and Knox was about to review the troops. About eleven thousand men, ill-armed and still worse clothed, presented a strange spectacle to the eyes of the young Frenchman. Their clothes were parti-colored, and many of them were almost naked; the best clad wore hunting shirts, large gray linen coats, such as he had seen in the Caro- linas. The men themselves were lacking in knowledge of the ordinary principles of military tactics. They were always ar- arranged in two lines, the smallest men in the front line; no other distinction as to height was ever observed. But courage took the place of science and zeal inspired discipline. At first sight of these ragged Continentals Lafayette, ac- customed to the uniform dress of European troops, was some- what taken aback. Then he remembered that it was these same ragged fellows who, in the midst of a driving snow-storm, had crossed the ice in the Delaware River on Christmas Night, and captured a thousand Hessians. His eye kindled. What mat- tered dress or discipline when such deeds could be accom- plished? During the progress of the review Washington drew near to him, and observed: [ 161 ] LAFAYETTE ** We should feel some embarrassment in showing ourselves to an officer who has just left French troops." *' It is to learn and not to teach that I am here," answered Lafayette modestly. A very warm smile illuminated the countenance of the Com- mander-in-Chief, and the Generals exchanged approving glances. The young man's tone was in pleasing contrast to that generally used by Europeans. After the review he accom- panied the Chief to Headquarters. As thej^ approached the building a mellow baritone voice came through the windows rollickingiy: ** 'Twas in the merry month of May" When hees from flower to flower did hum^ Soldiers through the town marched gay, The village flew to the sound of the drum. The clergyman sat in his study within Devising new ways to battle with sin; A knock was heard at the parsonage door, And the Sergeant's sword clanged on the floor. * We're going to war, and when we die We'll want a man of God near by. So bring your Bible and follow the drum.' " Washington smiled as he heard the song. " You will find my family rather gay, Marquis," he said. " The prospect of engaging the enemy always makes them jubilant. You will like the singer of that melody, I am sure." A slender, dark-eyed stripling of Lafayette's own age arose as they entered the office. " My aide and secretary, Colonel Hamilton, Marquis," said Washington. " Mr. Hamilton, the Marquis de Lafayette. ^A favorite song of Alexander Hamilton. [ 162 ] LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE He Has become a member of our family. Will you kindly pre- sent him to the other members? " " That I will do with pleasure," responded Alexander Ham- ilton, extending his hand to Lafayette. "Glad to see you. I've already heard a great deal about your troubles in getting to come to us. I shall like to hear them at first hand. Being a native of the West Indies I may claim to be a Frenchman my- self." The two took to each other at once, and chatting volubly in their native tongue went off arm in arm. The military family of Washington at this time was composed of the aides-de- camp, Colonels Meade and Tench Tilghman of Pennsylvania ; Colonel Pinckney of South Carolina; Colonel Robert H. Har- rison of Maryland; the " old secretary," as he was familiarly called; and Alexander Hamilton, " the little lion; " all gentle- men of gallant spirit, amiable tempers, and cultivated man- ners. Lafayette being a kindred spirit soon won his way into favor with them. Gradually he came to know that American affairs were in a critical condition. Disasters had been numerous, and victories few ; many were becoming disheartened and despairing. Dis- content had spread through the camp, and the half-clad and famished militia, disbanding in great numbers, returned to their homes. The brilliant success at Trenton had revived for a while the drooping courage of the nation, but it was only for a deeper depression. The British forces were mustering with renewed energy for a decisive onset, anticipating in the present campaign a con- summation of its work. Hardly a station which the Ameri- [ 163 ] LAFAYETTE cans occupied, from Ticonderoga to Charleston, was free from peril. When Lafayette was in France he supposed that the Ameri- cans as a united people were struggling for Independence. He found instead the appearance of civil war, for they were divided against each other. Whigs and Tories were the names that distinguished republicans and royalists. Insurrections were by no means uncommon, and the republican chiefs were exposed to great dangers when they travelled through the country from those disaffected to the cause. Of all these diffi- culties the young Frenchman gradually became aware, but he looked upon them calmly and undismayed with an unwavering faith that liberty would conquer in the end. But where was Howe? That was the question that troubled Washington and the army. In July he had been seen off the Capes of Delaware, and then had disappeared. Washington feared that he would slip up the Hudson for a junction with Burgoyne. If he succeeded in making it, New England would be cut off from the rest of the country, a contingency that must be prevented. During this anxiety he held a Council of War which Lafayette, in his capacity of Major-General, attended, during which the advisability of moving the troops was dis- cussed. It was decided that Howe must have gone to Charles- ton. If so, the distance was too great to think of following him. Before the army could reach there he might accomplish every purpose he had in view, and reembark his troops for Philadelphia, or any other point without the army being at hand to oppose him. Just as Congress had approved the decision of the War [ 164 ] LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE Council to move toward the Hudson all tormenting uncertain- ties were brought to an end by the intelligence that Howe had actually entered the Chesapeake and anchored at Swan Point at least two hundred miles within the capes. His destination was undoubtedly Philadelj)hia, though he took a strange route to reach it. The condition of the country demanded a battle. Disastrous defeat would be better than to permit the British army to proceed toward Philadelphia without an engagement. Therefore Washington broke camp and arranged to march through the city, and on southward. The army were ragged, some almost in a state of nudity, but some attempt at uniformity was made by placing sprigs of green in their hats. They were soldiers, tried and true, and now as they marched down Front Street and up Chestnut to the Common to the sound of fife and drum they presented a martial appearance, inspiring and inspirit- ing. Attended by his staff Washington rode at the head of the army. Lafayette rode by his side. Scarcely a month before the young man had stood before the door of the State House pleading to be allowed to serve as a volunteer. Now he rode side by side with the Commander-in-Chief, proud and happy at the prospect of action. The army crossed the Schuylkill, then marched to Chester and Wilmington, at the confluence of the Christiana Creek and the Brandywine, where Washington set up his headquarters, his troops being encamped on the neighboring heights. The country was cut up by deep streams, and thickly covered with forests, though there were numerous roads running through it [ 165 ] LAFAYETTE by which communication was made easy, both from north to south and from east to west. Washington's army faced the invaders, who were hidden by wooded hills miles away on the farther southwestern side. His first movement was to send troops to prevent the taking of stores, horses, carriages, and cattle by the enemy; then light troops went forward to hover about and harass them. Washington himself, accompanied by Generals Green and Lafayette with their aides, rode forth to reconnoitre the country that lay between his forces and the enemy. Several days were now passed by the Commander-in-Chief almost continually in the saddle, reconnoitring the roads and passes, and making himself acquainted with the surrounding country; which was very much intersected by rivers and small streams, running chiefly from northwest to southeast. He had made up his mind to risk a battle in the open field. It is true that his troops were inferior to those of the enemy in numbers, equipment and discipline. Hitherto, " they had fought com- bats, but not battles." ' Still those combats had given them experience, and though many of them were militia, or raw re- ciniits, yet the divisions of the army had acquired a facility at moving in large masses, and were considerably improved in military tactics. The main body of the American army was encamped on the east side of Red Clay Creek, on the road leading from the Head of Elk to Philadelphia. The light infantry were in the advance, at White Clay Creek. The armies were from eight to * " Lafayette's Memoirs." [ 166 ] LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE ten miles apart. In this position Washington determined to await the threatened attack. On the eighth of September the enemy, 18,000 strong, ad- vanced in two columns; one appeared preparing to attack the Americans in front, while the other extended its left up the west side of the creek, somewhat to the right of the American position. Washington now suspected an intention on the part of Sir William Howe to march by his right, suddenly pass the Brandywine, gain the heights north of that stream, and cut him off from Philadelphia. He summoned a Council of War, therefore, that veiy evening, in which it was determined im- mediately to change their position and move to the stream in question. By two o'clock the next morning the army was un- der march, and by the next evening was encamped on the high grounds in the rear of the Brandywine. The enemy on the same evening moved to Kennet Square, about seven miles from the American position, astride the main southwestern ap- proach to Philadelphia. The Brandywine commenced with two branches, called East and West branches, which united in one stream, flowing from west to east about twenty-two miles, and emptying itself into the Delaware about twenty-five miles below Philadelphia. It had many fords ; one called Chadd's Ford was at that time the most practicable, and in the direct route from the enemy's camp to Philadelphia. As the principal attack was expected here Washington made it the centre of his position where he stationed the main body of the army, himself commanding. The left wing, composed of Pennsylvania militia, under Major-General Armstrong, was stationed about a mile and a [ 167 ] LAFAYETTE half below the main body, to protect the lower fords where the least danger was to be apprehended. The right wing of the army commanded by Sullivan, and composed of his division and those of Stephen and Stirling, extended up the Brandywine two miles bej^ond Washington's position. Maxwell's light-infantry were thrown in advance, south of the Brandywine, and posted on high ground on each side of the road leading to the ford. General Greene's division were posted in the rear on the heights as a reserve to aid either wing of the army. The Brandywine, which ran in front of the whole line, was now the only obstacle between the two armies. Early on the morning of the eleventh of September a great column of troops was descried advancing on the road leading to Chadd's Ford. A skirt of woods concealed its force, but it was supposed to be the main body of the enemy, if so a general conflict was at hand. The Americans were immediately drawn out in order of battle. Washington rode along the front of the ranks, and was everywhere received with acclamations. A sharp firing of small arms soon told that Maxwell's light-infantry were en- gaged with the vanguard of the enemy. The skirmishing was kept up for some time with spirit when Maxwell was driven across the Brandywine below the ford. The enemy, who had advanced but slowly, did not attempt to follow, but halted on commanding ground, and appeared to reconnoitre the Ameri- can position with a view to attack. A heavy cannonading com- menced on both sides about ten o'clock. The enemy made re- peated dispositions to force the ford, which brought on as fre- [ 168 ] LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS JMETTLE quent skirmishes on both sides the river, for detachments of light troops occasionally crossed over. Toward noon came an express from Sullivan, with a note received from a scouting party, reporting that General Howe, with a large body of troops and a park of artillery, was pushing up the Lancaster road, doubtless to cross at the upper fords and turn on the right flank of the American position. Startled by the information Washington instantly sent off a party of horse to reconnoitre above the forks and ascertain the truth of the report. In the meantime he resolved to cross the ford, and attack the division in front of him with his whole force, and rout it before the other could arrive. He gave or- ders for both wings to cooperate, when, as Sullivan was prepar- ing to cross, a major of the militia rode up, just from the forks, and assured him that there was no enemy in that quarter. That the movement was a feint to draw the Americans across the stream. Sullivan instantly transmitted the intelligence to Washington, whereupon the movement was suspended until positive information could be obtained. Knyphausen, who was in command of the British troops in front of the ford, acted as though he were attempting to force a passage, and a brisk though ineffective cannonade was kept up. Fully two hours were lost waiting for authentic information concerning the movements of the enemy. Then suddenly a man, mounted upon a foam-flecked mare, rode up in all haste, demanding to see the Commander-in-Chief. Wild looking and somewhat overwrought he was shown into the presence of Washing- ton. " General," he cried excitedly, " the British have crossed the [ 169 ] LAFAYETTE OBrandjrwine, and are coming furiously down from the north toward the Birmingham meeting-house." " How know you this, sir? " demanded Washington. "Sir, I was out reconnoitring on my own account. Sud- denly, to my surprise, I rode from out of the wood directly into a column of redcoats. They were as much surprised to see me as I was to see them, which was what saved me. As I wheeled they fired upon me, but it so happened that I got off scot-free, and ran my horse here to let you know." " It cannot be true," exclaimed Washington. " Informa- tion of that nature was brought some time ago, but since that has been denied. It cannot be so." *' You are mistaken. General," replied the other vehemently. ** My life for it you are mistaken. Ask Anthony Wayne if Thomas Cheney of Thornbury Township is not a man to be believed. Come, sir; I will make a draft in the sand of the road as to the disposition of their forces. Then put me under guard until you find my story true." At this moment another despatch from Sullivan corrobo- rated the man's story. The party of horse sent by Washington to reconnoitre above the forks had seen the enemy two miles in the rear of Sullivan's right marching down at a rapid rate. In fact, an old stratagem had been played over again. Knyphausen with a small division had engrossed the attention of the Americans at Chadd's Ford, kept up a great noise pro- longed by skirmishes, while the main body of the English ac- companied by Sir William Howe, and under the immediate command of Cornwallis, led by experienced guides, had made a long detour, crossed the two forks of the stream, and was [ 170 ] LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE bearing down upon the right and rear of the American army, threatening its whole destruction. It was a capital stratagem, secretly and successfully conducted; Sir William Howe at his best. Finding that Cornwallis had thus gained the rear of the army Washington sent orders to Sullivan to oppose him with the whole right Aving, each brigade attacking as soon as it ar- rived upon the ground. Wayne, in the meantime, was to keep Knyphausen at bay at the ford, and Greene, with the reserve, to hold himself ready to give aid wherever required. Since early morning Lafayette had watched the prepara- tions for battle with keenest interest, waiting with ill-sup- pressed eagerness an opportunity to take part in the fighting. As a volunteer his post was with the Commander-in-Chief; but the left Aving being quiet, and it becoming evident that the real fiffhtinff was to be done on the right, he went to Washington with a request. " My General," he said, " may I not go to aid General Sulli- van in the fight? There is likely to be what Americans call * warm work ' there, is there not? " For the first time in all those days of harassment Washing- ton smiled. The request was after his own heart. " Quite likely indeed to be warm work," he assented. " And you wish to break a maiden lance? So be it. Marquis, but be not too rash." Lafayette thanked him, and with his aide-de-camp spurred off to the scene of action. His arrival was greeted with cheers by the troops. He found Howe and Cornwallis advancing in line against Sullivan, who had not had time to form properly. [ml LAFAYETTE He had tried to form in front of an open piece of wood near the Birmingham meeting-house, but the time that had been ex- pended in transmitting intelligence, receiving orders, and marching, had enabled Cornwallis to choose his own ground, and prepare for action. He advanced ra^^idly with his troops in the finest order, sweeping all light troops from his path, and opened a brisk fire of musketry and artillery on Sullivan's main body. The Americans made an obstinate resistance, but being taken at a disadvantage, the right and left wings were broken and driven into the woods. The centre where Stirling and La- fayette were fighting stood firm for a while. Cornwallis fo- cussed upon them all his available artillery, and threw at them his best available troops. Two of Sullivan's aides were killed, and his horse shot from under him. By a skillful manoeuvre Cornwallis managed to separate them from the two wings when defeat became inevitable. The whole fire of the enemy united against it, and the confusion became too great for men under such a fearful strain, so they began to give way. Lafayette realized the necessity of holding the enemy at this part of the field, so he dismounted and ran among the men sword in hand, cheering and trying to rally the faltering. "Stand," he cried. "Have at them! Forward! For- ward!" The troops wavered, then rallied at the call, wavered again, and again rallied as Lafayette stood, unmindful of danger, en- deavoring to reanimate them by his own example. While thus engaged, in the thick and fury of it, he was hit by a musket- ballj which passed clear through his leg below the knee, but [ 172 ] LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE luckily severed no artery and broke no bone. So intense was his interest in rallying the troops he did not notice that he was wounded. The blood filled his boot and ran over. He grew weak; suddenly he staggered, and fell. Major de Gimat, his aide, ran to him as he fell ; then the rout became general. The British were pressing them close. There was danger of capture, so with Major de Gimat's help Lafayette mounted his horse, and reluctantly joined the retreating patriots. Wash- ington was coming up with fresh troops, and Lafayette tried to join him. He was too weak, however, from wound-shock and loss of blood to do so, and was obliged to stop in the rear for a temporaiy dressing, after which he sorrowfully joined the fleeing men in their flight toward Chester. While this was occurring with the right wing, Knyphausen made a push to force his way across Chadd's Ford in earnest. He was vigorously opposed by Wayne with Proctor's artillery, aided by Maxwell's infantry. Greene was preparing to aid him with the reserve when he received orders from Washington to march double-quick to Sullivan's rescue. Greene advanced with such celerity to the relief that his infantry, mainly Vir- ginians, made a run of four miles, up hill and down, in forty- two minutes ; and then, without an instant's pause, threw them- selves into the fight with such ferocity that they held the Brit- ish in check for an hour. By this time Washington had suc- ceeded in disentangling the army, and Greene was at liberty to choose a less exposed position. He had arrived too late to save the battle, but in time to protect the broken masses of the left wing, which he met in full flight. Opening his ranks from time to time for the fugitives, and closing them the moment [ 173 ] LAFAYETTE they had passed, he covered their retreat by a sharp and well- directed fire from his field pieces. His great stand was made at a place about a mile beyond Dilworth, which Washington had pointed out to him as well calculated for a second position should the army be driven out from the first. Here he was overtaken bj'^ one of the Chief's aides ordering him to occupy this position and protect the retreat of the army ; for a general rout was the order of the day. These orders were implicitly obeyed. The British came on impetuously expecting but faint opposition. They met with a desperate resistance, and were repeatedly driven back. It was a bloody conflict, and the check given to the enemy allowed time for the broken troops to re- treat. The brave stand by these brigades had been a great protec- tion to Wayne. He had for a long time withstood the attacks of the enemy at Chadd's Ford, until the approach on the right of some of the British troops who had been entangled in the woods, showed him that the American right wing had been routed. He now gave up the defense of his post, and retreated by the Chester road. Knyphausen's troops were too fatigued to pursue him, and the others had been kept back by Greene's divisions. So ended the varied conflict of the day. All around Lafayette was headlong terror and confusion. Chester road, the common retreat of the broken fragments of the army, from every quarter, was crowded with fugitives, with cannon, with baggage cars, all hurrying forward pell-mell and obstructing each other; while the thundering of cannon, and the volleying of musketry by the contending parties in the rear, added to the confusion and panic of the flight. [ 174 ] LAFAYETTE PROVES HIS METTLE The dust, the uproar, and the growing darkness, threw everything into chaos ; there was nothing but a headlong strug- gle fonvard. Lafayette was unwearied in his endeavor to restore order among the fleeing and despairing soldiers. For- getting his wound, his excessive fatigue, everything but this one object, he exerted himself to the utmost, amid the darkness and dreadful confusion. At Chester, twelve miles from the field of battle, there was a deep stream with a bridge over which the fugitives would have to pass. Lafayette spurred forward, threw a guard around the bridge, and so arrested their passage. Thus he succeeded in bringing something like order out of the chaos, and so awaited the coming of Washington. The General had asked repeatedly for him, being greatly concerned when he heard of his wound. By his direction Surgeon William Ma- gaw, of the First Pennsylvania, now dressed it. Thus the long, dark day came to a close. The Americans had lost eleven guns and one thousand men; the British lost six hundred men. The Americans had been outclassed in knowledge of war, as well as superiority in numbers and equip- ment. It was a victory for Howe, but he had not won it easily. He actually had to borrow rebel surgeons from Washington to look after his wounded. [ 175 ] CHAPTER XVI "The Marquis'^ LAFAYETTE'S conduct at Brandy wine endeared him to the soldiers with whom he was already popular. He had shed his blood in the cause ; he was one of them. Thereafter he was always known as " The Marquis." There might be other marquises, vicomtes, barons among the foreign noblemen who had come to serve in the American army ; to the rank and file of the Continentals there was but one — " The Marquis." Because of his extreme youth, his enthusiasm for the cause, and his concern for their welfare, the soldiers had come to love him, and in time the designation which they affec- tionately bestowed upon him became the one by which he was known throughout the length and breadth of the thirteen States: "The Marquis." The next day after the battle of the Brandywine the citizens of Philadelphia sent down boats to bring up the wounded, and Lafayette was conveyed to the city and there carefully at- tended to by the citizens, who were all interested in him. The town was in a state of excitement. By the defeat of the patriot army the city would fall into the hands of the [ 176 ] "THE MARQUIS" British; so the departure of Congress was at once resolved upon, and many of the inhabitants fled with that body. La- fayette was transferred to Bristol, and here the fugitive Con- gress temporarily halted; but it was still too near the British, so it was decided to move into the interior, where it reconvened at York. Mr. Henry Laurens, who was on his way to York, took Lafayette in his carriage, cushioned his wounded leg, and so drove him to Bethlehem, a Moravian settlement, where he left him at the Sun Inn. It was a clean, well-kept town with an old world air about it, perched on the high north bank of the Lehigh River. Its people were peaceful, full of good works, and abominating the warfare which had spread over the fair face of the country. Mr. Laurens had commended Lafayette to the care of one of the leading men of the town, so that he was well placed at once. So, under the ministrations of these devoted people, the attentions of Washington's best surgeon, whom he had sent with instructions to look after Lafayette as though he were his own son, the young man strove to pass the days of inactivity which must elapse before he could rejoin the army. His Brst thought was to allay the anxiety of his wife con- cerning his wound should she receive tidings of it from anyone but himself. He knew that much would be made of the matter by the English, and reports conveyed to France which might be greatly exaggerated. Lafayette, in fact, lost no oppor- tunity of keeping Adrienne advised of all his movements, and sent her letters by every available means. So now he described his wound as being a mere trifle, told her of the defeat at the [ 177 ] LAFAYETTE Brandywine, and gave her humorous admonitions of what she should reply as the wife of an American general should she be twitted concerning the loss of Philadelphia. He also wrote to the Minister of War at Versailles, M. de Maurepas, concerning a project against the British in the East Indies. It was learned afterward that such an expedition would have been successful. The old Minister made no reply to the letter, as the young man was still in disgrace at Court, but he spoke publicly in praise of Lafayette's plan, and ever after expressed a partiality for him. " He will end one day," said he smiling, " by unfurnishing the palace at Versailles to serve the American Cause ; for when he has taken anything into his head it is impossible to resist him." The British had by this time entrenched themselves in Phila- delphia, with the main body of their army at Germantown, five miles from the city. These were attacked on the fourth of October by Washington, and Lafayette, lying in his bed, heard the rumble of the big guns. Something was happening, and he was not in the army to take part in it. A few days later wounded soldiers began to arrive. Lafayette was anxious for details of what had taken place, and importuned the soldiers for information concerning everything that had happened since Brandywine. After that engagement he learned that Washington had retreated quietly across the Schuylkill to Germantown, where he gave his troops a day's repose. They were in good spirits, and in no wise disheartened by the recent affair which they considered a check rather than a defeat, so he resolved to seek [ 178 ] "THE MARQUIS" the enemy again and give him battle. Therefore he disposed his troops around Philadelphia, to guard against surprise, and advanced to meet the enemy. Howe, apprised of his intentions, tried to outflank him. The two armies met near Warren Tavern, and were on the point of ^ngaging;_ when a heavy rain-storm came up which prevented it. It was a violent storm, lasting more than twenty- four hours, rendering the firearms useless because of the damp- ness of the powder; so Washington quietly withdrew his army. On the night of the third of October he had marched his troops from the encampment at Matuchen Hills by the differ- ent routes to Germantown. It was after daybreak when the Continentals emerged from the woods on Chestnut Hill, and the morning was dark with heavy fog. The brilliantly planned attack fell out as was expected: the British, taken by surprise, broke and ran with the patriots in pursuit. In the darkness and the fog, however, some of the American brigades became separated from their divisions, and, mistaking each other for the enemy, became confused and panic-stricken, then fled from their own victory. Cornwallis at this juncture came up from Philadelphia with reinforcements and pushed the pur- suit of the Continentals. The retreat continued through the day to Perkiomen Creek, a distance of twenty miles, where Washington rested the disorganized troops. But though the Americans were balked of victory, the au- dacity of the attempt made a great impression on the foe, who had not considered Washington able to take the offensive so soon after Brandywine. It also impressed the army itself, [ 179 ] LAFAYETTE giving them more courage and confidence; and its effect was great upon European countries, especially France. All this with numerous details related by the wounded sol- diers made Lafayette long to get back to the army. The sur- geons were through with him, and it was now just a matter of time before the wound would be perfectly healed; but time was just what he did not wish to give. Though he could not yet wear a boot, he could stand it no longer, so on the eighteenth of October, he left Bethlehem to rejoin the army. Washington received him with open arms, but chided him gently for his imprudent zeal, and urged him to remain quietly at Headquarters. Along with Lafayette came the glorious news of Burgoyne's surrender at Saratoga, and the camp and country went wild with joy. And now Washington awaited with eagerness the return of troops which he had sent to strengthen the Northern Depart- ment together with other reinforcements with which he hoped to oppose the attacks of the British on the forts of the Dela- ware. Could they be kept the position of the enemy would be rendered untenable. Patiently Washington waited, and then sent Alexander Hamilton to Gates with orders to send the troops at once. At the same time he gradually drew nearer to Philadelphia, and took a strong position at White Marsh, within fourteen miles of the city. He then detached large bodies of militia to scour the roads and intercept all sup- plies going to the enemy, and reinforced the forts of the Dela- ware. The Howes now attacked Forts Mifflin and Mercer in turn, and after an heroic defense Fort Mifflin fell. Sir William [ 180 ] "THE MARQUIS" Howe followed its reduction by an expedition against Fort Mercer, which still impeded the navigation of the river. This enterprise was in charge of Lord Cornwallis, who crossed the Delaware into the Jerseys with two thousand men, where he was joined by a force from New York. Apprised of the expedition, Washington did what he could with his reduced army. To have adequately protected both forts would have left the public stores at Easton, Bethlehem, and Allentown uncovered, as well as several of the hospitals. Now he detached Generals Greene and Huntingdon to join Varnum at Red Bank. These troops, with such militia as could be collected, Washington hoped would be sufficient to save the fort. Before they could reach their destination, how- ever, Cornwallis appeared before it. A defense against the superior force of the British was hopeless, and the works were abandoned. They were taken possession of by the enemy, who proceeded to destroy them. Though not quite recovered from his wound, Lafayette, panting for action, had accompanied Greene as a volunteer on his expedition into the Jerseys against Cornwallis. At Mount Holly, Greene detached him to reconnoitre. On the twenty- fifth of November the Marquis found the enemy at Gloucester, near Philadelphia. Their forage wagons were crossing the river, and to make a more thorough examination of their posi- tion, he advanced dangerously far on a point of land called Stony Point, which extended into the water. Here he might have been cut to pieces or taken prisoner, but he was quick enough to escape without injury. He had found what he wished, however: that Cornwallis was sending his baggage [181 ] LAFAYETTE across, preparatory to his own departure. About four o'clock in the afternoon he found himself before a post of Hessians, numbering four hundred men with cannon, which Cornwallis had thrown out to protect himself in that direction. Lafayette had one hundred and fifty sharp-shooters under Colonel Butler, and about two hundred militiamen and light horse, under Colonels Hite, Ellis and Lindsay. Four French officers also accompanied him. The strength of the enemy was at first unknown, but he attacked boldly, and drove them with such impetuosity that Cornwallis, who supposed he had to do with Greene's whole force and was not prepared for an engage- ment, allowed himself to be driven back to Gloucester with a loss of sixty men. His lordship was now under cover of the guns of Lord Howe's frigates, and it would have been fool- hardy to attack under such circumstances. Cornwallis then crossed the river, and the American forces returned to White Marsh. It was an unimportant' military engagement, but it was highly favorable to Lafayette's military prospects. Greene, delighted with the exploit, remarked jubilantly to Washing- ton: "The Marquis is determined to be in the way of danger." Lafayette's popularity was already great, but his conduct at the Brandywine and Gloucester showed him to be a fighting man of coolness and judgment. The affair so pleased Wash- ington that he wrote to Congress about it, and also about La- fayette's qualities. He had already recommended him for promotion. " I am convinced," he wrote, " he possesses a large share of [ 182 ] "THE MARQUIS" that military ardor which generally characterizes the nobility of his country." In reply Congress intimated that it was their pleasure that he should appoint the Marquis to the command of a division in the Continental Army. The division of General Stephens at this time was vacant, and, much to his joy, Lafayette was forthwith appointed to its command. Lafayette had become twenty years of age on the sixth of the preceding September while the army was manoeuvring around the Brandywine. Thus, shortly after his twentieth birthday, and a few months more than a year from the time that he had heard of the struggle of the Americans for Inde- pendence, he found himself given a command in the patriot army. From the honorary position granted to him in defer- ence to his birth and family influence, he had become an active officer by proof of fitness. And so universal was the esteem in which he was held that not one of the American officers envied him his promotion. [ 183 ] CHAPTER XVII The Army of the North IT was now time for the campaign of 1777 to close; so Washington broke up his encampment, and went into winter quarters at Valley Forge. So far as situation was concerned it was an ideal place for a cantonment. There was plenty of fuel and spring water, a watch could be kept on all the surrounding country, and it was the key to all tKe main roads going out of Philadelphia. Under Washington's direc- tion the soldiers built log huts to shelter them from the severity of the weather, and had not the blunders of the Commissary- department and the bickerings of Congress left them in want of everything it would have served every purpose as a camp. As it was, miseries and hardships of every sort prevailed. Fa- vorable opportunities to attack the enemy were lost through the incapacity of the men to march. Washington's remonstrances to Congress were long in bringing relief to the suffering army. Lafayette was learning more and more the troubles and difficulties that beset his chief. Obstacles quite as serious as the enemy stood in his path. In the Northern States the great [184] UNDER WASHINGTON'S DIRECTION THE SOLDIERS BUILT LOG HUTS THE ARMY OF THE NORTH victory over Burgoyne had lulled the people into a feeling of security which blinded them to the constant needs of the army. In the South the defeats of Brandywine and Germantown dis- couraged the Whigs and emboldened their enemies. Through- out the Revolution the greatest difficulty was that, in order to conceal misfortunes from the enemy, it was necessary also to conceal them from the nation. Lafayette found in this state of things additional reasons for the exercise of fidelity toward Washington. The tempta- tion to return home was almost irresistible. He had received news that another little daughter had been born the July pre- vious, and he longed to embrace his children and their mother. But when he had once faced the prospect held out by Valley Forge he could not do otherwise than share its miseries with the men whom he had come to consider as compatriots, and who in turn looked upon him as one of themselves. In all these trials he was uncomplaining. He sympathized with the sol- diers, and cheered the officers both by word and example. " He adopted in every respect the American dress, habits, and food. He wished to be more simple, frugal, and austere than the Americans themselves." He labored hard with the Com- mander-in-Chief to alleviate the hardships where it was pos- sible, and to encourage where only endurance could meet the situation. Then was firmly cemented the bond of friendship which united these two men, and which important events were soon to put to the test. All at once Lafayette found himself the object of flattering attention from General Conway, an Irishman, almost as old as Washington, who had been brought up in France, and was, [ 185 ] LAFAYETTE in fact, a lieutenant in that army. This man had entered the service of the American army the preceding INIarch, and had fought well at Germantown and Brandywine. He had con- ceived the idea that he was one of the foremost generals of his age, and hated Washington because he was not of the same opinion. Conway, whose standing in France would be much affected by Lafayette's opinion of him, now fawned upon him, calling himself the boy's soldier, and declaring repeatedly that he was entirely at his disposal. Secretly he was trying to wean him away from Washington, for he belonged to the faction that was working against the Commander-in-Chief. Lafayette's influence in France, and his military rank made him naturally a leader among the foreigners in America. He had also won the thorough confidence and esteem of the army. Hence it was important to this faction to deprive Washington of his sup- port. Young and unsuspecting, Lafayette was flattered that he had won the devotion of a man so much older than himself and who was a very brave and excellent officer. He was soon en- lightened as to his real character. Conway contented himself at first with the most vague in- sinuations against Washington's fitness for Commander-in- Chief. But one day growing bolder he remarked: " What a pity it is. Marquis, that with your military ardor you are attached to so unsuccessful a general. " " Mon ami, what mean you by that? " demanded Lafayette quickly. " I mean, my dear Marquis, that had we had a Gates at the [ 186 ] THE ARMY OF THE NORTH head of the Southern Department Philadelphia would not have been taken, the forts on the Delaware would have been prop- erly defended and still in our possession; in short, how dif- ferent would the issue have been had the victor of Saratoga been in command instead of the Fabius we have." *' Are you speaking of General Washington? " asked La- fayette in amazement. " Why certainly. Marquis. I am but voicing the thoughts of many when I say that attacking is the only thing necessary to conquer, and that our General by his Fabian policy has lost us the country.'* "We are not yet in Mr. Howe's possession, Monsieur," spoke Lafayette dryly. " True; but had Gates been in command the convention of Saratoga would have been duplicated at Philadelphia." " Possibly; but may I remind you, sir, that ' Every may be has its may be not? ' The conditions were different with our General from those that existed in the Northern Department. First, he sent troops to strengthen that department, thereby weakening himself. Second, at no time has his army been equal in point of numbers to that of the enemy, and this in- cludes all troops, Continental as well as militia. Third, the disaffected and lukewarm in this State prevented those vigor- ous exertions which an invaded State ought to have yielded. In the north, the States of New York and New England, re- solving to crush Burgoyne, sent fourteen thousand militia, composed of the best yeomanry in the country, well armed and well fed, to help Mr. Gates. Had the same spirit pervaded Pennsylvania and the neighboring States, our General might [ 187 ] LAFAYETTE have ha3 General Howe in the same situation as General Bur- goyne." " I doubt it. Why doesn't he attack now? " persisted Con- way sneeringly. " In place of keeping the troops here inact- ive he should attack Philadelphia. Congress thinks so too." " I am aware that we were visited by a committee of Con- gress who, on returning to York, remonstrated regarding that matter, and advised attacking the city even after seeing what conditions were here. I shall remind you what General Wash- ington replied to them: " ' I can assure those gentlemen,' said he, * that it is a much easier and less distressing thing to draw remonstrances in a comfortable room, by a good fireside, than to occupy a cold, bleak hill, and sleep under frost and snow, without clothes or blankets. However, although they seem to have little feeling for the naked and distressed soldiers, I feel superabundantly for them; and from my soul I pity those miseries which it is neither in my power to relieve nor prevent.' ** Monsieur, if General Washington were not at the head of this army the Revolution would end in six months." Conway made no reply, but frequently after that tried to un- dermine Lafayette's attachment and fidelity to Washington. By these interviews Lafayette soon learned to know that the man was dangerous, and he went to the Chief with the whole story. " I have known General Conway's character for some time," Washington told him calmly. " I have known also that there is a faction in Congress that is displeased with me. I have not sought the place of Commander-in-Chief, and if I am displeas- [ 188 ] THE ARMY OF THE NORTH ing to the nation I will retire ; but until then I will oppose all intrigues." Conway resigned from the army shortly after this, and went to York to be with Gates, Mifflin, and other members of the Cabal. While there he was made Inspector-General of the enlarged Board of War. The secret faction which had been working against Washington since November was growing. People attach themselves to a successful general, and Wash- ington had been unsuccessful. A party had arisen in Con- gress who were inclined to put all the blame on the Command- er-in-Chief for the loss of Philadelphia, and who privately de- sired to see another general in his place. The results of this opposition soon appeared. As the Cabal had found that the young Frenchman's fidelity was unassailable, they concerted a plan which would disem- barrass them of his presence and influence. One bleak day late in January, 1778, Lafayette sat with Washington in the latter's office at Headquarters, when an orderly entered with a package of papers just arrived from York. With a word of excuse the Commander-in-Chief opened the bundle, and glanced over the contents. " Here is something for you. Marquis," he said, handing Lafayette a paper. " It was enclosed to me with a letter from General Gates." Lafayette took the document, and unfolded it, uttering an exclamation of surprise as he finished its perusal. " My dear General," he cried joyfully, " I am appointed to a new Command which gives prospect of active employment. Congratulate me." [ 189 ] LAFAYETTE "I do, Marquis; most sincerely," answered Washington. " General Gates has spoken concerning the enterprise in his letter to me. It is, I believe, an irruption into Canada; is it not?" " Why ! " ejaculated Lafayette. " Do you not know all the details of it? " " This is my first notice of the project," declared Washing- ton. *' But that is monstrous," exclaimed the young man. " That is lacking in deference to you as Commander-in-Chief. I shall not accept the Command." " Be not too hasty in your decision. Marquis. Let us first examine into the matter. Let us go over your appointment carefully, and see if the project is one that would be for the public good and confer honor upon you." The two men bent their heads together over the document. A new command had been instituted called the Army of the North, with headquarters at Albany, and the duty of making a winter attack upon Canada. By placing Lafayette at the head of this independent command, they expected to separate him from Washington; and by making Conway the second in rank they hoped the latter by his address and superior ability would make himself the real head of the expedition. X^afayette's military ambition was well known, and the bait was believed, with reason, to be a tempting one. Indeed it was a project that would have delighted any Frenchman. The idea of rendering the whole of New France, as they still called Canada, free, and of delivering her from the heavy* yoke of the English was too glorious to contem- [ 190 ] THE ARMY OF THE NORTH plate. It was small wonder that the bait was a tempting one. A careful perusal of the orders, and a realization that the command was independent of Washington caused Lafaj^ette to spring to his feet excitedly. " I shall decline it," he cried. " I would rather be an aide- de-camp to you, my General. I shall never accept a command that places me beyond your orders." Washington smiled at him affectionately. *' Nay," he said. " Be not too hasty. Since the position has been created I would rather that you should hold it than an- other. Accept it, my dear Marquis. It may be that such an expedition will bring good to the Cause." Accordingly Lafayette set off for York, determined to ob- tain from Congress itself such conditions that the purpose of the Cabal would be defeated. In this he was greatly assisted by Henry Laurens, the president, who was not unacquainted with the circumstances of the case. Lafayette wished to find the extent of the views of Congress in sending forces into Canada, that he might govern himself accordingly, and not have the secret of their intentions deposited in Conway, second in rank, while he had the command. He found Gates, Mifflin, Conway, and their friends living in a comfort which contrasted with the hardships of Valley Forge. They received him with open arms and profuse prom- ises. Gates gave a dinner party in his honor, and everything was made smooth and easy for him. But things at the dinner party became less gay when Lafayette announced his intention to remain subordinate to Washington's orders, and demanded [ 191 1 LAFAYETTE that De Kalb should be his second in rank, leaving only the third place for Conway. After some hemming and hawing, however, this was promised. Then Gates, somewhat excited with the good cheer of the table, began to tell Lafayette what was expected of him. He was to proceed from Albany to Lake Champlain on the ice, burn the British shipping at St. Johns and press forward to Montreal, there to be governed by cir- cumstances. He was to have at least two thousand five hundred fighting men under him. Stark, the veteran Stark, was ready to cooperate with a body of Green JNIountain Boys. " Indeed," cried Gates chuckling, " General Stark will have burnt the fleet before your arrival." Toward the end of the dinner toasts were drunk to Lafay- ette's success, according to the custom of the day. Lafayette now considered it time to declare himself. He rose. " Gentlemen," he said, " one toast has been omitted which I will now propose. Gentlemen, the Commander-in-Chief of the American armies." Consternation was on the faces of the conspirators, and silently they honored the toast. Then and there their interest in the Army of the North came to an end. The next day La- fayette set out for Albany without any very sanguine expec- tations. On account of bad roads and inclement weather he proceeded very slowly. Sometimes drenched with rain, some- times covered with snow, his thoughts were not very pleasing concerning the projected incursion into Canada. He had been instructed to meet a Mr. Duer at Ringo's Tav- ern in Flemingtown, and to confer with him. But Mr. Duer [ 192 ] THE ARMY OF THE NORTH was not there, and Ringo had never heard of him. After an agreeable interview with Governor Clinton of New York he ar- rived at Albany on the seventeenth of February. Conway had preceded him by three days, and he seemed " active and well in- tentioned." Almost the first words that he spoke were those in which he pronounced the expedition impossible. Generals Schuyler, Lincoln and Arnold had written letters condemning the enterprise. No man was a better judge than Arnold of the futility of such an attempt. But for a time Lafayette re- fused to believe it. He had been promised twenty-five hundred men at Albany, a considerable force of militia, two millions in paper, some hard money, and the means of crossing the ice. But as little care had been taken by the Board of War to fulfill these promises as to calculate the feasibility of the expedition. The available force did not exceed twelve hundred men, and these were not clothed for even a summer campaign. At the dinner party Gates had assured him that Stark and his militia would have burned the fleet before his arrival. But the first letter he re- ceived at Albany was from Stark himself, inquiring what man- ner of men, in what place, for what time, he should recruit. In short, there being neither the money nor the men for the expedition, and no time to collect them, it was plain that noth- ing could be done. It was a bitter mortification to the young man. His heart had been set upon making a glorious campaign. He had writ- ten to his friends in Europe about his new command, and in America the public eye was upon the Army of the North. The hardest thought was the knowledge that had the men and [ 193 ] LAFAYETTE the money been forthcoming as promised there was every rea- son to believe that the enterprise would have succeeded. But now, before either could be collected, the ice would have broken up, which would render operations impossible. Now he was not only disappointed in the hope of distinguishing himself, but he feared that he and his expedition would become a general laughing stock. Deeply distressed he opened up his heart to Washington in pathetic letters. Washington replied very consolingly that it would be no disadvantage to have it known in Europe that he had received so manifest a proof of the good opinion and confidence of Con- gress as an important detached command, and that he was persuaded that everyone would applaud his prudence in re- nouncing a project, in pursuing which he would vainly have attempted physical impossibilities. He assured him further that the stain upon his reputation was imaginary, and that it stood as fair as ever. He then used his influence with Con- gress to have Lafayette recalled as delicately as possible, which that body did in the most flattering terms. But if Lafayette found it inexpedient to make the incursion into Canada he did some good in other ways. The few troops left in the northern department had not been paid for a long time, and he put them in better humor by paying part of the long delayed arrears, ordered clothing upon his own credit, provisioned the forts, and rendered a most essential service by visiting the tribes of the Six Nations and getting them to de- clare for the Americans. It was a terrible question at the time which side these In- dians would take in the strife. All the savages were paid and [ 194 1 THE ARMY OF THE NORTH protected by the English: the Hurons and Iroquois committed their depredations on the whole frontier. Some baubles or a barrel of rum were sufficient to make them seize the tomahawk; they then rushed upon villages, burnt houses, destroyed har- vests, massacred all without regard to age or sex, and received on their return the price of each bloody scalp they exhibited. Lafayette, conscious that he could not protect such an immense extent of frontier, prepared quarters in every direction, and announced the speedy arrival of troops in all the counties ; and this stratagem stopped the depredations of the savages who did not usually attack the places where they expected to find much resistance. Schuyler and Duane, who were charged with the manage- ment of Indian affairs, appointed a general assembly at John- son's Town upon the Mohawk River, and asked Lafayette to go with them to the Council. The Indians had always been fond of the French who had treated them with kindness, and now they received the Marquis with marks of pleasure. Their love of French blood, mixed with the love of French louis d'or, which Lafayette distributed among them as medals, to- gether with some stuffs procured in Albany, inclined them to listen to him. They were subject, too, to the spell of his rank, which indeed is most powerful over barbarous minds, and he was adopted by them, and received the name of Kayewla, which formerly belonged to one of their warriors. He made a strong talk to them, explaining, as far as he could, the nature of the controversy, and told them that their old friends, the French, were joined, heart and soul, with the Americans against their old enemies, the English. His talk prevailed. A [ 195 ] LAFAYETTE treaty was entered into, which some of them rigidly observed; and the course of the evil was arrested for a time. Early in April Lafayette rejoined Washington at Valley Forge. The affairs of the General were already in a more prosperous condition. The bubble of the Cabal had been pierced through the babbling of the confidential aide of the faction, and such an outcry had arisen from the people at the attempt to defame Washington that the machinations of his enemies had been frustrated. The army was reprovisioned, discipline was improved, and matters looked fairly bright for the coming campaign. On the second of May there arrived the news that France had acknowledged the Independence of the United States, and had concluded a Treaty of Alliance with the American envoys. The joy was great at Valley Forge, and the sixth of May was chosen to celebrate the event fittingly. Religious services, a grand parade, salvos of artillery, and a public dinner testified to the general satisfaction. " France and Lafayette ! " was upon every lip. Lafayette took part in the celebration with heavy heart. Along with the great news of the Alliance came tidings of the death of his little daughter, Henriette, who had died the pre- ceding October. The young father was overwhelmed with grief, and the distance between him and his loved ones seemed immense. But man's work must go on though he be bowed down with sorrow. Lafayette had put his hand upon the plow; he would not turn back. [196 1 CHAPTER XVIII Lafayette Proves Worthy of Trust THE military career of Sir William Howe in the United States was draAving to a close. His conduct of the war had given much dissatisfaction in England, and Sir Henry Clinton had been ordered to relieve him. Early in the month of May, Washington had discovered in- dications that the enemy were about to evacuate the city, and at once took measures to harass them on their departure. With this purpose in view he detached Lafayette with a picked company of two thousand men, with orders to cross the Schuyl- kill, and take a position nearer the city, where he might be at hand to gain information, watch the movements of the enemy, check their predatory excursions, and fall on their rear should they move as expected. " You will remember," wrote Washington in his instruc- tions, " that your detachment is a very valuable one, and that any accident happening to it would be a very severe blow to this army. You will, therefore, use every possible precaution for its security, and to guard against surprises." The Marquis crossed the Schuylkill on the eighteenth of [ 197 ] LAFAYETTE May, and proceeded to an elevation called Barren Hill, about half-way between Washington's camp and Philadelphia, and about eleven miles from both. Here he planted his cannon facing the south, or toward the city, with rocky ridges border- ing the Schuylkill on his right; woods and some defensible stone houses on his left. Behind him the roads forked, one branch leading to Matson's Ford of the Schuylkill, the other by Swede's Ford to Valley Forge. In advance of his left wing was McLane's company of about fifty Indians. Pickets and videttes were placed in the woods to the south, through which the roads led to Philadelphia, and a body of six hundred Penn- sylvania Militia were stationed to keep watch on the road lead- ing to White Marsh. He established his headquarters near a stone church surrounded by a wall. In fact he seemed to have taken every precaution against surprise. Early on the morning of the twentieth Lafayette stood just without Headquarters arranging some details of the day. In the midst of his orders a vidette dashed up excitedly, exclaim- ing: " General, British Dragoons are advancing upon us by way of White Marsh road! " Lafayette was not alarmed at this intelligence. He was expecting a small force of American dragoons in that quarter who wore scarlet uniforms, and supposed these to be them; to be certain, however, he sent out an officer to reconnoitre. The latter soon came spurring back at full speed. A column of the enemy had pushed forward and were within a mile of the camp, and had possession of the road leading to Valley Forge. Scarcely was this news received and Lafayette had disposed his [ 198 ] WORTHY OF TRUST forces to meet them when news was brought that another column was advancing on the Philadelphia road; then a third force was sighted. Three Divisions of the British, greatly out- numbering his own force, were moving simultaneously against him, able to crush him at the first onset. Something like panic seized the men as the knowledge of the state of affairs came to them, and a hoarse shout broke from their lips : " We are surrounded! " Now what had happened was this: While Lafayette was making his arrangements a spy in his ranks sent information to Philadelphia of his movements. A spy when sent into the enemy's camp to procure information is a meritorious person; when he comes from the enemy, he is a despicable creature. One of these contemptible creatures had informed the British of Lafayette's entire arrangements. Immediately there was great glee among the English, and a plan was concerted between Howe and Clinton to entrap the young Marquis, naturally considering that his capture would be a fitting climax to the end of Howe's generalship. Sir Will- iam even made arrangements for a dinner party the next day promising the invited guests that he would give them the pleasure of meeting the Marquis. The British laid their plans well. At least nine thousand men were detached against Lafayette's two thousand. The plan came near being completely successful through the re- missness of the militia, who, for some unknown reason, had left their post of observation without orders. So now something very like panic seized the soldiers as they found the enemy on all sides of them, and they cried: [ 199 ] LAFAYETTE " We are surrounded! " It was instantly followed by a wild huzza which broke out all along the line as their youthful general smiled, and they saw the composure with which he received the information. Now Lafayette had reconnoitred the ground thoroughly, and he knew that the road to Matson's Ford, which branched from that to Swede's Ford, was little used, and for that reason per- haps unknown to the enemy. It was entirely hidden by trees, and if unoccupied by the enemy would afford a means of es- cape. A hasty examination revealed that the road was still clear, though the British were much nearer to it than was La- fayette. Boldly he advanced toward it, throwing out small parties of troops at various points of the intervening wood, as if an attack was meditated. The British came to a halt to prepare for action while Lafayette sent all his other troops down the hidden road and across the ford, bringing up the rear himself with the men who had formed the false columns. The army was nearly across the river before the enemy discovered what was going on. The three British columns unsuspectingly had continued their march up the hill to crush the Americans at a blow. The hill being concealed from their view by intervening trees, not until they fully arrived upon the ground did they discover that it was abandoned. They had been fairly outwitted, and the exasperated commanders indulged their spleen by mutual re- criminations. Still it might not be too late, and a quick pursuit was instantly ordered when the last of the Americans were dis- covered crossing the river. A slight attack was made on these, but they got safely across, and with great order took up a [ 200 ] WORTHY OF TRUST strong position on the high gi*ound which commanded the fordo So advantageous was this position that the British dared not attack them, and all they could do was to return to Philadel- phia somewhat disconcerted. It was reported that Sir Will- iam was even late for his dinner party. Next day Lafayette recrossed the river, marched to Swede's Ford, and thence to Valley Forge where he was received with acclamations. Indications continued to increase of the departure of the troops from Philadelphia, and on the eighteenth of June the enemy marched out. Passing over to Gloucester the army marched in two columns each consisting of seven thousand men, commanded by Clinton and Knyphausen. The American army, which was nearly of equal force, followed after by way of Coryell's Ferry, within a march of the enemy. It was thus left at their option either to follow on the track of the British, or to repair to White Plains, where a corps was at the time situated upon the left bank of the Hudson, opposite the island of New York. Knowing that there were differences of opinion among his officers regarding this Washington held a Council of War to consider what measure to adopt. General Charles Lee spoke very eloquently, endeavoring to prove that it was necessary to let the enemy go through the Jerseys without at- tack. He argued that it would be the part of wisdom to help them forward, even to build a bridge of gold to let them pass ; that the English army had never been so excellent and so well disciplined. Lee had but recently come to Valley Forge, having been Held as a prisoner by the British in New York. He had been [ 201 ] LAFAYETTE captured in 1776 while sleeping outside the lines, and his ex- change for General Prescott had just been effected. He was immediately reinstated in his position of second in command of the American army. He had been formerly a colonel in the English service, a general in Poland, and a fellow-soldier of the Russians and Portuguese, was well acquainted with all countries, all serv- ices, and several languages. He was very ambitious and avaricious, his turn of mind caustic, his temper uncomplying, and his whole appearance singular and unprepossessing. A temporary fit of generosity had induced him to quit the Eng- lish service, and throw his lot in with the Americans. At this time he was regarded as an oracle. In his heart he detested Washington, and felt a sincere affection for himself alone. His opinions had great Aveight with the army; now most of the officers, both foreign and American, concurred with his belief that the British should not be attacked. Greene, Lafay- ette, Wayne and Cadwalader thought differently. They could not brook that the enemy should evacuate the city, and make a long march through the countiy unmolested. Lafayette as- serted that it would be disgraceful for the chiefs, and humiliat- ing for the troops, to allow the British to traverse the Jerseys tranquilly; that, without running any improper risk, the rear guard might be attacked; that, while embarrassed in defiles with a cumbrous baggage train, an opportunity might present itself of striking some signal blow that would indemnif j"^ them for all they had suffered in their long and dreary encampment at Valley Forge. The opinion of Lafayette, Greene and Wayne that the rear [ 202 ] WORTHY OF TRUST of the enemy should be attacked by a strong detachment while the main body of the army should be so disposed as to give a general battle, should circumstances render it advisable, coin- cided with Washington's view, and he determined to act upon it. Heavy rains and intolerable heat retarded the movement of both armies, but by this time Sir Henry Clinton had advanced to Allentown, on his way to Brunswick, to embark on the Rari- tan River. Finding the passage of that river likely to be strongly disputed by the advanced guard of Washington, he changed his plan and turned to a road leading through Free- hold to Navesink and Sandy Hook. Washington, no longer in doubt as to the enemy's destina- tion, detached Wayne to join the advanced corps, which, thus augmented, was upwards of four thousand strong. The com- mand of the advance properly belonged to Lee as second in rank but he refused it. Thereupon Lafayette eagerly solicited it, and Washington replied that if General Lee were agree- able he would willingly give consent. Lee ceded the command without hesitation, observing to the Marquis that he was well pleased to be free from all responsibility in executing plans which he was sure would fail. Lafayette set out with Wayne to join the advance corps, and to assume command of the whole. Lee no sooner saw La- fayette in a position second only to the Commander-in-Chief, than his jealousy was aroused, and he regretted his action in resigning his own claim to the post. In a note to Washington he declared that, in assenting to the arrangement, he had con- sidered the command of the detachment one more fitting a [ 203 ] LAFAYETTE young volunteering general than a veteran like himself, second in command of the army. Lafayette would be at the head of all the Continental parties already in the line; six thousand men at least. Should the detachment march, therefore, he en- treated to have command of it. Washington was perplexed how to satisfy Lee's claims without wounding the feelings of Lafayette, but his duty was made easy by the chivalry of the Marquis. After his request to Washington Lee had appealed to Lafayette, saying: " I place my fortune and my honor in your hands. You are too generous to cause the loss of both." [NTaturally Lafayette was pleased with the post, and was unwilling to relinquish it, but such an appeal to his generosity and magnanimity could not be disregarded, and Lee gained his point. Lafayette wrote to Washington assuring him that if it was believed necessary or useful to the good of the service and the honor of General Lee, he would cheerfully obey and serve him, not only out of duty, but out of respect to that officer's char- acter. Upon receipt of this letter Washington wrote to Lee offer- ing an expedient which he deemed would be satisfactory to both. He proposed that General Lee should march at the head of two brigades to support the Marquis at Englishtown, where, as senior officer, he would have the direction of the whole front sector. At the same time, he expressly stipulated that if any enterprise had been already formed by Lafayette, it should go forward the same as if no change had been made. Lee readily acceded to this condition. [ 204 ] WORTHY OF TRUST Sir Henry Clinton, not unapprised of these designs against him, had taken a strong post on the heights of Freehold near Monmouth. Washington saw that this was unassailable, and, aware that if the British were allowed to proceed twelve miles, till they should gain the heights of Middletown, they would be perfectly secure, gave orders to Lee to attack the British rear as soon as it should move from its present ground. Morning broke on the twenty-eighth of June, 1778. At daybreak, on receiving intelligence that the enemy was in mo- tion, Washington sent orders to Lee to make an attack. He was at the same time informed that the Chief with the rear di- vision of the American force would be on his way to support him. Lee's first movements were those of obedience. Appearing upon the heights of Freehold soon after Lord Cornwallis had left them, he followed the enemy into the plain, and made im- mediate disposition for the onset. Hitherto his tactics had been marked with skill and caution, but on this morning he seemed to lose all prudence. Lafayette went to him, and asked what he should do, when Lee replied that he had no plans. Later he ordered Lafayette to a station where he was exposed to a raking fire from the English artillery without any prospect of good, and while the Marquis was executing this manoeuvre sent him an order to fall back into the village where he had placed the rest of the troops. While reconnoitring with Wayne, Lee caught sight of a force under march, but partly hidden from view by interven- ing woods. Supposing it to be a mere covering party of about two thousand men he detached Wayne with seven hundred [ 205 ] LAFAYETTE men to skirmish in its rear and hold it in check ; while he, with the rest of his force, taking a shorter road through the woods would get in front of it, and cut it off from the main body. He was repulsed and attacked in his turn. He then ordered one brigade, then another to withdraw. The officers were as- tounded. They did not know what he was trying to do. There had been but little fighting; why should they be ordered to withdraw ? Lafayette rode up to him, and asked that he might halt and fight. " Sir," replied Lee, " you don't know British soldiers ; — we cannot stand against them; — we shall certainly be driven back at first, and we must use caution." " British soldiers have been beaten, and it is to be presumed that they may be beaten again," exclaimed Lafayette spirit- edly. And now, though his officers were among the pick of the army, though he was supported by five thousand troops eager to fight, though he knew that Washington was already bring- ing forward the whole army to his support, Lee ordered a full retreat. Lafayette was enraged; Wayne almost snorting in disgust ; other officers shamed and humiliated, but they had to obey the orders of their general. At the first retrograde move- ment Lafayette quietly despatched a courier to Washington with news of what was going on, beseeching him to hasten to the scene of retreat. The rear troops had already been ordered back, and these, knowing nothing of the cause of the order, were becoming de- moralized and panic stricken. Cornwallis, taking advantage of the situation, was pressing forward rapidly. From time to [ 206 ] WORTHY OF TRUST time Lafayette cast anxious glances on the road ahead where the main army lay. Presently a mighty shout burst from the lips of the soldiers as a majestic figure astride a big white charger appeared dashing toward them. It was General Washington himself. Of their own volition, without waiting for orders the troops came to a halt. There would be no re- treat now without a chance to strike a blow. Washington had been on his march to support the advance. The booming of cannon at a distance indicated that the attack so much desired had commenced, and caused him to quicken his march. Arrived near Freehold Church, where the road forked, he detached Greene with part of the forces to the right, to flank the enemy in the rear of Monmouth Court House, while he, with the rest of the column, would press forward by the other road. He had alighted while giving these directions, and was standing with his arm thrown over his horse when a country- man rode up, and told him that the Continentals were retreat- ing. He was provoked at what he considered a false alarm. The man pointed, as his authority, to an American fifer who now ran up in breathless affright. Springing upon his horse Washington had moved but a short distance when he met other soldiers who all concurred in the report. He spurred forward, still almost inclined to doubt, it seemed so incredible, when Lafayette's courier rode up at speed. Then the heads of several columns began to appear. It was too evident — the whole advance was falling back on the main body and no notice had been given him. Stopping a regi- ment, Washington, greatly surprised and alarmed, asked the [ 207 ] LAFAYETTE meaning of the retreat. The shamed officers did not know. They were retreating by General Lee's orders. There had been no fighting excepting a slight skirmish with the enemy's cavalry, which had been repulsed. Ordering the officers to stop where they were and refresh the men, the Chief galloped forward to stop the retreat of the rest of the advance, his in- dignation kindling as he rode. Other officers with their men came up, and they, too, could assign no cause for the retreat. Some were provoked, some declared that they had never seen the like, while one exclaimed angrily that they were fleeing from a shadow. So now, as Washington beheld Lee approach- ing with the residue of his command in full retreat, he was thoroughly exasperated. " What is the meaning of all this, sir? " he demanded of Lee in tones that caused Lafayette's pulses to bound with delight. For a moment Lee was disconcerted, and hesitated in mak- ing a reply, for Washington's aspect was terrible. " I desire to know the meaning of this disorder and con- fusion? " was again demanded still more vehemently. Lee, stung by the manner more than the words, made an angry reply, and provoked still sharper expressions from Washington. He attempted a hurried explanation, stating that he did not think it prudent to bring on a general engage- ment. That the whole movement was against his advice. " Whatever your opinion may have been," Washington re- plied disdainfully, " I expected my orders to have been obeyed." There was no further time for parley. The enemy was within a quarter of an hour's march. The fortunes of the day [ 208 ] WORTHY OF TRUST were to be retrieved, if possible, by instant arrangements. These Washington proceeded to make with great celerity. The place was favorable for a stand ; it was on rising ground, to which the enemy could approach only over a narroAv causeway. The rallied troops were hastily formed upon this eminence, with Lord Stirling upon the left, Greene on Washington's right, while Lafayette was given the second line. The enemy being thus brought to a stand, a long battle followed. A cannonade was kept up on both sides during the whole day, and two attacks of the enemy were repulsed. Sir Henry Clinton found that Valley Forge had developed soldiers out of the untrained Americans. A battery, placed on their left, obliged the English to change their position, and when they presented their flank Washington attacked them and forced them to retreat. He had converted Lee's disaster into victory. Lafayette was everywhere in the midst of the fighting that he could be of use. Once, as Washington wished to know the position of some English batteries, he advanced with a score of men to reconnoitre. A shower of shot and shell greeted their appearance, and one of Lafayette's aides fell by his side, struck by a ball. The officers and orderly dragoons fled pre- cipitately, but Lafayette dismounted, and went to him to see if he had any sign of life remaining, or whether any assist- ance could be afforded him. Finding the wound had been mortal, he rose, passed his hand over his eyes with emotion, then slowly rejoined the group which had gotten out of the reach of the pieces. The heat was intense, and both armies suffered greatly. Men fell dead without a wound. The Americans continued to [ 209 1 LAFAYETTE gain ground until darkness compelled them to suspend opera- tions; then they slept upon their arms on the field of battle, ready to renew the conflict with the break of day. Washing- ton lay down upon the ground under a tree, sharing his cloak with Lafayette. Before they slept, the two discussed the strange conduct of Lee. They were up before daybreak, but the enemy had stolen away through the night, and were too far on their march to permit of pursuit. The day after Monmouth, Clinton reached Sandy Hook and crossed to Staten Island. Washington's army in three divisions, one under Lafayette, moved to White Plains east of the Hudson, and sat down before the British in New York. As for Lee he wrote abusive letters to Washington who or- dered a Court Martial. Lee was found guilty of misconduct before the enemy, and suspended from the army for a j^ear. Later, Congress, who reviewed the proceedings, dismissed him from the army. [ 210 1 CHAPTER XIX Lafayette, the Peacemaker THE first fruits of the French alliance were manifest when early in July a fleet of twelve ships of the line and six frigates, with a land force of four thousand men under the Comte d'Estaing, appeared off the capes of Delaware. On board of it came Monsieur Gerard, Minister from France to the United States, and Silas Deane, one of the American commissioners. On account of adverse winds and high seas it had taken the comte nearly three months to reach the New World. Had he arrived in ordinary time, he might have entrapped Lord Howe's squadron in the Delaware River; cooperated with Washington in investing the British army by sea and land, and, by cutting off its retreat to New York, compelled it to surrender. Finding the enemy had evacuated both city and river the comte, putting to sea, continued along the coast. When he arrived in the road outside Sandy Hook, he descried the Brit- ish fleet quietly anchored inside of it. A frank and cordial correspondence took place forthwith between the comte and Washington, and a plan of action was concerted between them. The first idea of the comte was to [ 211 ] LAFAYETTE enter at Sandy Hook, and to capture or destroy the British fleet, which was inferior to the French, and then proceed against the city with the cooperation of the American forces from White Plains. But to the great disappointment of the American and French Commanders, no pilots could be found willing to take the large French ships into New York harbor. Lafayette labored to help d'Estaing in this and in other particulars, but all agreed that enough water was wanting, and d'Estaing's soundings verified this opinion. Under the circumstances it was soon agreed between the comte and Washington that an expedition against Newport, Rhode Island, which had been a strong military stronghold of the British since December, 1776, would present the best op- portunity for the cooperation of the American forces and the French fleet. In accordance with this resolution Washington wrote to Sullivan who commanded at Providence, ordering him to make the necessary preparations for a descent from the main land upon the island, and authorizing him to call in reinforcements of New England Militia. A detachment from the main army was then sent to Rhode Island in charge of Lafayette. His orders were to proceed to Providence as rapidly as possible, and there place himself un- der Sullivan's orders. The Marquis conducted his troops briskly along the Sound, " across a smiling country covered with villages, in which the evident equality of the population distinctly proved the democracy of the government." * ^"Lafayette's Memoirs." [ 213 I THE MARQUIS CONDUCTED HIS TROOPS BRISKLY ALONG THE SOUND THE PEACEMAKER Lafayette arrived at Providence in an exceedingly happy frame of mind. Not only was his country aiding in the cause of liberty, but the head of the expedition sent to help the Americans was a native of his own Province — ^Auvergne. His enthusiasm was dampened somewhat when he reached Providence by finding that Greene had been sent to take part in the expedition also. He was a native of Rhode Island, and would be a great help. Washington therefore instructed Sulli- van to divide his whole force, — Continentals, State, and Militia, into two equal divisions, one to be commanded by Greene, the other by Lafayette. This new arrangement would naturally diminish Lafayette's forces greatly and was a dis- appointment to him; but when Washington wrote explaining the reasons for the change he assented with his customary good nature ; thereby greatly pleasing his Chief. The term Rhode Island was first given to one of the long islands which thrust their heads southward from the main land into Narragansett Bay, upon which Newport is situated. Afterward the name was applied to the State. It was against Rhode Island proper that the expedition was to proceed. The island, about sixteen miles long, ran deep into the great bay. Seaconnet Channel separated it on the east from the main land, and on the west the main channel passed between it and Conanicut Island. The town was situated near the south end of the island, facing the west, with Conanicut Island in front of it. It was protected by batteries and a small naval force. Here General Sir Robert Pigott, who commanded in the island, had his headquarters. The force under him was about six thousand strong; variously posted about the island, some in r <- 1 c ■-' LAFAYETTE works at the north end, but the greater part within strongly entrenched lines extending across the island about three miles from the town. General Greene, on the arrival of the fleet, was sent from Providence to concert a plan of operations. Some questions of etiquette and precedence arose between them in settling the mode in which the attack was to be made. The chief obstacle encountered was the question whether the French troops should act separately, or whether a force of Americans should be added to them. Sullivan objected to parting with any portion of his command. On the other hand, d'Estaing insi§ted on the union of an American force with his, for reasons of a military nature, and for the effect that it would have on the French Government. He furthermore desired that the French force and the American detachment annexed to it should be under the command of Lafayette, because of his acquaintance with the military service of both nations, and in case d'Estaing's presence were required on board the fleet La- fayette would be the most suitable person to take the place. Lafayette was delighted with the prospect of such a command, and it met with the full approval of Washington. But Sulli- van objected. It was at length agreed that the fleet should force its way into the harbor at the same time that the Americans ap- proached by land, and that the landing of the troops from the ships on the west side of the island should take place at the same time that the Americans should cross the Seaconnet Channel, and land on the east side near the north end. This combined operation was to have been carried promptly into [ 214 ] THE PEACEMAKER effect, but Sullivan requested time to assemble the Militia. The comte did not wish delay. He was short of provisions and water. His fleet had been long in crossing the ocean, and he wished to refit from the capture of Newport, but there was nothing to do but to assent with the best grace possible. It was a time for quick action, and the delay was fatal to the enterprise. It gave Sir Robert time to despatch couriers to Clinton to ask for help, and Sir Henry was not slow in re- sponding. The attack was at length set for the tenth of August. On the eighth, Comte d'Estaing entered the harbor and passed up the main channel, exchanging a cannonade with the batteries as he passed, and anchored a little above the town between Goat and Conanicut Islands. The English on his approach burnt or scuttled three frigates and some smaller vessels which would otherwise have been captured. General Sullivan, to be ready for the concerted attack, moved down from Providence to the neighborhood of Howland's Ferry, on the east side of Seaconnet passage. The British troops stationed opposite on the north end of the island, fearful of being cut off, evacuated their works on the night of the eighth, and drew into the lines at Newport. Sullivan, seeing the works thus abandoned, could not resist the temptation to cross the channel on flat-bottomed boats on the morning of the ninth, and to take possession of them. Unfortunately this action, a day in advance of the concerted time and without due notice, gave great umbrage to the French officers. They considered that, as the evacuation had been caused in consequence of the demonstration of the fleet, the I 215 1 LAFAYETTE honor of occupation should have been left for them. Wash- ington had warned Sullivan to be careful of this very thing. He had told him that the French Nation, old in war, was very punctilious in questions of rank and etiquette. The French were amazed at this breach of decorum, while Sullivan thought them unduly sensitive. However, with Lafayette's help, the matter was adjusted, and d'Estaing was preparing to cooperate when the fleet of Lord Howe, somewhat reinforced, was seen approaching the entrance to the harbor. That nobleman had heard of the dan- ger of Newport, and was hastening to its relief; though still inferior in numbers to the French admiral. D'Estaing at once collected his ships, then, conceiving his first object to be the destruction of the British fleet, stood out to sea for that purpose. Piqued and chagrined at the departure of the allies Sulli- van determined to commence the attack immediately without waiting for the comte, though Lafayette advised the delay of hostile operations until his return. On the twelfth, however, came on a tempest of wind and rain which raged for two days and nights with unexampled violence. Tents were blown down ; several soldiers and horses perished, and a great part of the ammunition recently dealt out to the troops was destroj^ed. As soon as they had recovered from this disaster, Sullivan moved to within two miles of the English lines, and entrenched himself on Honeyman's Hill. The discouragement caused by the long delay, and the great anxiety felt for the safety of the French fleet, were relieved on the nineteenth, when d'Estaing was seen approaching the harbor. All rejoiced at the thought [ 316 ] THE PEACEMAKER that the combined attack would now be made, and were con- fident of victory. But the same storm that had wrought such havoc on land, had swept out to sea, separating and dispersing the fleets, and doing great damage to the vessels of both squadrons. It beat upon them with such violence that it left them crippled and torn so that neither admiral was in a condition to fight when the fury of the tempest abated. Lord Howe with such of his ships as he could collect bore away to New York to refit, and the French admiral returned to Newport, but in no plight or mood for fighting. Moreover, his orders compelled him to make the safety of the fleet his first consideration, and he must repair at once to Boston to refit. Dismayed by this intelligence Sullivan wrote a letter of remonstrance to the comte, and Greene and Lafayette re- paired with it on board the Admiral's ship, to enforce it by their exertions. D'Estaing would, without doubt, have reconsidered the matter had not his officers unanimously opposed it. The fact was that d'Estaing was a land officer, and they were jeal- ous that he had been placed over them in the navy. They were glad, therefore, of any opportunity to thwart and mortify him; and now insisted on his complying with his letter of instruc- tions. On Lafayette's taking leave, the comte assured him that he would only remain in Boston long enough to give his men repose after their long sufferings and refit his ships; and trusted to leave the port again within three weeks after enter- ing it, " to fight for the glory of the French name and the in- terests of America." The Marquis and General Greene returned with the report [217 ] LAFAYETTE of the ill success of their mission. Whereupon Sullivan sent another letter the next day, urging the Admiral in any event to leave his land forces. A protest, signed by all of the general officers except Lafayette, was hastily drawn up, declaring that the departure of the fleet was contrary to the intentions of the French Government, fatal to the American Cause, and in- jurious to the Alliance between the two nations. The fleet was already under way when this protest and letter reached d'Es- taing. He was deeply offended both by the protest and the manner in which it was conveyed to him. Declaring that the message " imposed on the Commander of the King's Squadron the painful, but necessary law of profound silence," he con- tinued on his course to Boston. Sullivan was exasperated, and gave vent to it in expressions reflecting upon the loyalty of the French. An altercation took place between him and Lafayette who naturally resented any imputation cast upon his countrymen's honor. Sullivan at length retracted some of his utterances, but Lafayette found his position in camp very painful. As a matter of course the feelings of disappointment at the action of Comte d'Estaing extended beyond him to the whole French people, and a general feeling against them prevailed in the army. Lafayette could not leave his tent without perceiving in the countenances of the Americans the most bitter reproaches against his people. He used all his tact and persuasion to remove the prejudice against the French Alliance, and acted as peacemaker between the French officers in camp and the Continental troops. The quarrel was to him doubly painful [ 318 ] THE PEACEMAKER as He considered himself an American as well as a French- man. The departure of the fleet was, in truth, a death-blow to the enterprise. Between two and three thousand volunteers abandoned the camp in the course of twenty-four hours; others continued to desert, leaving the American forces unequal to the British. The harbors being now free and open to the enemy, reinforcements might pour in from New York, and render the withdrawal of the troops disastrous if not impos- sible. General Sullivan consequently withdrew the troops to the north end of the island, where he made a resolute stand. It was determined to fortify there until it should be known whether the French fleet would return to their assistance. La- fayette was chosen by the board of officers to use his influence with d'Estaing to bring about a reconciliation. He therefore set out for Boston with all speed to urge d'Estaing's return to their assistance. He rode the seventy miles in seven hours. After having travelled all night he ar- rived in the city just as the Admiral and his officers were enter- ing it. With the help of John Hancock and Doctor Cooper he succeeded in smoothing over the difficulties, and a grand repast was given by the town in honor of the comte, followed by a conference between the Council, the Admiral, and La- fayette. While d'Estaing demonstrated the insufficiency of his naval force, he offered to march himself with his troops by land to aid Sullivan. But it was now too late. News was brought that very day that Sir Henry Clinton had arrived at Newport with a light squadron and four thousand troops, — a force sufficient to cut off Sullivan's army which was therefore [ 219 ] LAFAYETTE withdrawing from the island. Eager to be in time for any en- gagement that might take place Lafayette spurred back faster than he had come; but was disapj)ointed and mortified at find- ing all the fighting over, and the army just recrossing the ferry to the main land. A corps of a thousand men had been left on the island sur- rounded by divisions of the enemy. Lafayette was placed in charge of these, and he succeeded in withdrawing them without the loss of a single man. While Sullivan went with the greater part of his army to Providence, Lafayette was left with a de- tachment at Bristol. Unfortunately at this time a disturbance arose at Boston between the French and the Americans in which an officer of the fleet was accidentally killed. Once more Lafayette rode to Boston to assist in establishing peace, and again succeeded in pouring oil upon the troubled waters. His conduct received universal praise, and testified to the high confidence that was felt in his fairness and fidelity by both the French and Americans. Congress passed a resolution of thanks, and Washington wrote in most affectionate terms re- garding his efforts for securing peace. The autumn was well advanced by this time, and it was evi- dent that no further operations would take place for the pres- ent in America. War between France and England seemed imminent, and Lafayette had had advices that the Ministry were planning a descent upon England ; he had not heard from his family for many months. Adrienne was less fortunate in getting letters to him than he was to her, and Lafayette was becoming exceedingly anxious. The desire to go home grew so intense that he sought Washington at Fishkill, and asked [ 220 ] THE PEACEMAKER his consent to ask Congress for leave of absence. Washington gave it readily, and wrote Congress regarding the matter, as Lafayette did also. In answer Congress granted the leave, and exerted itself to do him honor. It was resolved that a sword, covered with ap- propriate emblems, should be i)resented to him, in the name of the United States, by their minister in France; that a letter should be written to the King extolling his services, and that the Alliance, a new frigate of thirty-six guns, their finest ship, should be set apart to carry him back to France. Hapj)y at the prospect of soon being with his loved ones again Lafayette set out from Philadelphia for Boston from which port the Alliance was to sail. But his constitution was weakened from fatiguing journeys and over exertions, and still more by the grief he had experienced at Rhode Island, and he was unequal to the long horseback journey before him. For many miles he rode in a pelting autumnal rain which brought on a fever. At Fishkill, eight miles from Headquarters, he was obliged to succumb to an inflammatory fever which pros- trated him completely. He was soon reduced to the last ex- tremity, and the report of his approaching death distressed the army by whom he was called " the soldier's friend." The whole nation were unanimous in the solicitude expressed for the Marquis. Doctor Cochrane, surgeon-general of the hos- pitals, left his other occupations to attend him alone, and Gen- eral Washington went every day to ask for him. The efforts in his behalf were at length rewarded by a return of sufficient Strength to continue his journey. Taking a tender and painful leave of Washington he repaired on horseback to Boston. [ 231 ] CHAPTER XX A Prodigal's Return IT was exceedingly cold when Lafayette stepped aboard the vessel that was to carry him back to France. The harbor was frozen, and sailors were busily engaged in cutting a passage for the ship through the ice. Several days were spent thus, but at length the anchor was weighed, and the frigate steered for the open sea. The Alliance had just been built at Salisbury on the Merri- mac, and its Commander was a Frenchman in the service of Congress, Pierre Landais, of St. Malo. Lafayette had met liim several times, and stood at the rail with him as the crew got the ship under way. He surveyed the men dubiously. " Do you know. Monsieur le Captain," he remarked, " those men look to be English to me." " And so the most of them are. Monsieur," returned the cap- tain. " It is a crew that is not at all to my liking; but what would you? Ships cannot be sailed without men, and one must take what one can get. I should have impressed some fellows, but Congress objected to that because you are opposed to it." [ 222 ] A PRODIGAL'S RETURN " I am indeed, Captain," answered Lafayette. " I believe that a man should choose to be a sailor of his own free will, and not be compelled to be one by the Avill of another. Who are these men that, being English, they should ship aboard an American vessel? " " They are British prisoners, M. le Marquis. They are will- ing to work aboard ship to escape confinement. I have some French and American sailors also, although these fellows greatly outnumber them.'* Lafayette made no further comment. He knew that there had been a great deal of trouble experienced in completing the crew of the vessel, and, while he had been informed that the men had been obtained, was unaware of what elements the crew were composed. The fact that Americans did not like to sail under a French captain, and also the fact that privateering held superior at- tractions had led to the practice of enlisting the services of British prisoners who thus, as the skipper had said, escaped confinement. As the men seemed to work well neither La- fayette nor the captain gave the matter further thought. From the time of sailing, January 11, 1779, the voyage was eventful. A strong but favorable wind was blowing as they left port, but fine weather soon vanished. On approach- ing the Banks of Newfoundland a violent storm assailed the frigate. For three days the tempest raged, each day with in- creasing force. The gale became of almost unexampled fury, and the Alliance flung herself at roaring seas that pounded her bows with blows that sounded like the booming of great guns. Great waves raised spuming crests to overwhelm her, and were [ 223 ] LAFAYETTE ridden down, hissing and seething, burying one rail and cover- ing the deck to the hatches with yeasty foam. The Alliance charged the stubborn fury of the gale, rolling from side to side, lancing the seas, gaining a little headway, losing leeway, fighting, fighting, while every foot of timber, every fathom of rope, groaned and creaked, but endured. Lafayette was invariably ill at sea, and almost from the day of sailing had been confined to his cabin. Now as he lay in the narrow bunk listening to the rush of the waves followed by the swash alongside that told him that the vessel was bucking heavy seas, the emptiness of glory and fame came home to him. " Peste! " he exclaimed as his friend, — the Chevalier de Pontgibaud who, with a number of French officers, was return- ing with him, — came into the cabin. " Will this gale never cease? Are we going to have bad weather all the way? " " A winter voyage in this latitude is always boisterous. Marquis," the Chevalier told him. " Although the storm seems unusually severe. It is lasting a long time certainly. But cheer up, mon ami. It will soon be over one way or the other. We shall either weather it, or serve as food for the fishes." As he spoke the frigate heeled over sud-denly to the accom- paniment of shrieking squalls and roaring seas. Lafayette thought his last hour had come. " Peste! " he cried philosophically. " I have done well cer- tainly. At my time of life — barely twenty-one — with my name, rank, and fortune, and after having married Mademoi- selle Noailles to leave everything and serve as a breakfast for codfish!" [ 224 ] A PRODIGAL'S RETURN The Chevalier laughed. " We must take things as they come, mon cJier. After all what difference does it make whether one dies at sea, or in battle? " " 'Tis the difference between dying with glory, or dying like a rat," responded Lafayette. " We court the one, and resent the other." The night that followed filled everyone with alarm and con- sternation. The maintopmast was torn away; heaving seas burst over the decks, leaving so much water that all hands were ordered to the pumps, and the ship seemed doomed to destruc- tion. But the Alliance proved a good fighter, and weathered the seas and the gale gallantly. The morning of the fourth day the tempest subsided, the gale had blown itself out, and the sun came forth. There followed a spell of pleasant weather with the Alliance gliding along riding on an almost even keel. The vessel was apparently alone upon the lonely ocean that ran sparkling to the far horizon, and for several days sighted no ship. Then one day, " Sail-O," was cried, and the decks were cleared for action. It was necessary, for the ship was a small British frigate. The Alliance had shown herself to be a good fighter of the ele- ments; now she proved her mettle against the enemy by cap- turing the vessel. Two days later she took another prize to the great gratification of the captain and the French officers. Verily this maiden voyage was testing the ship in many ways. The journey now seemed in a fair way to end without further event, but there w^as still a great peril to be faced before gain- ing the coast of France. [ 225 ] LAFAYETTE On the second of February, while they were still some five hundred miles from the shore, Lafayette, quite recovered from his illness, sat at dinner with the captain and other officers. With much animation they were discussing the prizes that had been captured, the recent tempest, congratulating themselves that they had escaped foundering, and their joy at being so near to the end of their journey. In the midst of the conver- sation an American sailor entered, and with some agitation, requested to speak with Lafayette. As the Marquis had talked with him upon several occasions, he thought now that the man had some favor to ask, and, always approachable, he rose instantly and left the table. As the seaman glanced ap- prehensively about him, and seemed loath to speak, he took him into his own cabin and closed the door. " Now then, my man, what is it? " he asked. " My lord," said the sailor hurriedly, " a mutiny's been hatched up to take place. The Britishers aboard have plotted to kill the officers and passengers, take possession of the ship, and sail for England." " Mordieu, my friend! can this be true? " ejaculated Lafay- ette. "As true as you live, my lord. I have been trying to get word with you all day, but this has been my first chance, I have been so watched. I just learned about the affair this morning. Wicked men are mean things to be shipmates with, and this here plot is about the meanest I ever run afoul of. You see, they thought from my accent that I was an Irishman. I've traded a lot on tHe coast, and so picked up a brogue. So they tackled me to join them. To learn the whole of the matter I [ 226 ] A PRODIGAL'S RETURN said I would, and then they spilled the whole thmg to me, offering me the command of the vessel. At the cry of , * Sail-O,* the officers will naturally come on deck in a bodjs when they are to be shot down by the cannon which have been loaded with grape shot. This signal is to be given at four o'clock, which is but an hour off. There is no time to be lost, sir." " True," cried Lafayette, with a thrill of excitement like nothing he had ever known. This was a taste of life in the raw. A hideous menace that would have to be faced with all the courage that men possessed. *' There is no time to lose." "And you'll protect me from them, sir?" cried the sailor anxiously. " They'd keel haul me if they knew that 'twas me that told." " Have no fear, my friend. For this day's services you shall not only be protected, but rewarded as well. Come now! let us go to the captain with this story." A recent British law offered the full value of any American vessel Avhich its crew would bring into an English port; which incentive to mutiny was responsible for the present plot on the Alliance. There is something terrible in a mutiny. It takes place on a wide expanse of water, from which no help can come. It has to be fought out with ruffians who recognize no law save that of might, with no help for the vanquished. As soon as the story was told the captain, officers, and passengers seized their swords, and rushed on deck to surprise the mutineers. Some of the officers went at once to bring for- ward the bravest and trustiest of the sailors, while Lafayette with others went down quickly between decks where the men [ 227 ] LAFAYETTE slept in their hammocks. Many were lying asleep in them now, waiting, no doubt, for the expected signal. Almost be- fore they realized what had happened these men were seized and bound, and an astonished lot they were. The tables had been turned with a vengeance. Among them were the ringleaders. One of these later con- fessed, lajang bare the full details of the plot. This sergeant, William Murray by name, said that the Master-at-Arms, John Savage, with himself and seventy more, had agreed to take the ship, force one of the lieutenants to take command of her, and carry her into an English port. They were to divide them- selves into four divisions: the first to take the magazines, the other three at the same time to force the cabin, wardroom, and quarter-deck, then to take command of the arm-chests. In case of opposition they were to point the forecastle guns aft and fire them; all the guns being nine pounders, and all loaded. The party that was to go to the magazine were to kill the gunner, carpenter, and boatswain; the captain was to be put in irons and sent away in the cutter, without victuals or drink; the lieutenants were to be made to walk overboard on a plank unless they would consent to take charge of the ship and navi- gate her into England ; all other officers and passengers were to be hanged, quartered, and hove overboard. Lafayette was to be put in irons and carried to England. It was a narrow escape. A week later the Alliance sailed safely into port at Brest. Thirty-eight of the mutineers were confined in irons on shore to await trial. Finally they were sent back to America, in small numbers, on different vessels. [ 228 ] A PRODIGAL'S RETURN As the Alliance entered the harbor the port of Brest saluted the American flag that flew on the frigate. Lafayette's heart bounded with joy at this recognition by his country of Ameri- can Independence. He reflected that a little less than two years before France's attitude had been very different toward her, and he thought, too, of his own peculiar situation. Tech- nically he was under arrest for disobeying the lettre-de-cachet of the King, and the orders of the Ministry. He wondered just what they would do with him, and if he would be sent to the Bastille, as had been threatened. He was not much alarmed, however, since the Ministry had now espoused the cause of America. Almost the first person that he saw as he stepped ashore was his kinsman, the young Comte de Segur. The two embraced each other rapturously. " How did you know when I would arrive, Phillippe? " queried Lafayette. " I did not know, Gilbert. But since receiving your letter some weeks ago that you were coming, I have had the ports watched so that I could be notified when your ship was sighted. And now, Gilbert, it is most important that you should pro- ceed at once to Versailles to make your peace with the King and his Ministers. I do not think there will be any difficulty. You ar6 a sort of public idol, you know ; but any neglect might result disastrously." " I know, Phillippe. It was my intention to go there first. You will accompany me? '* " But yes, mon cher. Think you that I shall lose sight of you now that I have you again? " [ 229 ] LAFAYETTE Thus chatting the two set out for Versailles. Arrived at the Court, Lafayette was received with reserve for appearance sake, but this soon gave way to great cordiality. The Prince de Poix made hini acquainted with all the Ministers, and he was interrogated and complimented. There were many things which the Ministers desired to know, and no one was so well able to tell them as Lafayette. They questioned him eagerly, as they wished to obtain information of America at first hand. " Still," said the old INIinister, M. de Maurepas, " you are under arrest. Monsieur, and deserve some punishment. We have consulted together, and it is our will that you repair to Paris, there to be confined in — not the Bastille, though you well deserve it for setting our orders at naught — but in the Hotel de Noailles, where a certain lady by name of Adrienne shall be your jailor. When you have properly acknowledged your fault to your King he will receive you. JMeantime, be careful of appearing in public places where the people by their approbation may appear to condone your disobedience. You are a sort of public idol, you know. Now away with you to Paris." Lafayette needed no second bidding. Joyfully he put spurs to his horse, and galloped into Paris. It was winter, and the snow lay deep upon the streets and boulevards of the city. A great white blanket spread its downy robe over the Hotel de Noailles and the trees and shrubs of the gardens bent under the snowy embroidery of frost flowers. It glittered and sparkled under the wintry sunshine like an enchanted palace, and to Lafayette's eager eyes it had never appeared so beautiful. Suppressing the excitement of the servants, for he wished to [ 230 ] A PRODIGAL'S RETURN take his wife by surprise, he went softly up to the nursery, where he was sure he should find her. A tall young woman, bending over a baby's crib, arose as he entered the room, and faced him. Lafayette gasped, then stood gazing at her in as- tonishment. The girl wife that he had left behind him was gone, and a noble looking woman of nineteen stood before him. Adrienne had developed and matured in the time of his ab- sence. Nor was the change alone in her physical appearance. Her impressions had become stronger and deeper, and her intellect had ripened. She had grown into a fitting mate for her chivalric husband. Now as she saw Lafayette she stood for a moment as though not daring to believe the evidence of her senses. Suddenly radiance flooded her face, and she stretched out her arms to him with a great cry: "Gilbert! Oh, Gilbert!" And the two were clasped in each other's arms. [231 ] CHAPTER XXI Lafayette^s Busy Year IT seemed to Lafayette as he held his wife in his arms that all the cares and anxieties of the past two years were for- gotten. Into his sympathetic ear she poured forth the pent-up confidences of hope, of loneliness, and of sorrow at the death of the first born, Henriette, and then led him to the crib where lay the little daughter, Anastasie, whom he had never seen. Once it had been rumored that he had been killed, Adrienne told him, and her mother had kept the report from her until it was denied. She had sent him many letters, and had grieved when he wrote that he had not received them, fearing that he should think her neglectful, or lacking in tenderness. When the joy and emotion over their reunion had somewhat abated, Lafayette asked abruptly: "And Father, Adrienne? Lately his letters to me have been full of affection and forgiveness; but how will he receive me? " Adrienne's eyes twinkled through the tears that hung upon her lashes. " You will have no cause to complain over the warmness of [ 233 ] LAFAYETTE'S BUSY YEAR your welcome, Gilbert. Indeed, he admires you greatly, and speaks of you as ' My son,' as though he had but one. My sis- ter, Louise, and Louis are inclined to be a little jealous. The Vicomte wishes now that he had braved Father's displeasure, and gone with you." It fell out as Adrienne said, and Lafayette could not but be amused at his father-in-law's changed attitude. He had left France a fugitive, regarded as a hot-headed boy led by rash desires for adventure. He returned to find himself looked upon as a man of affairs and high merit. The Due d'Ayen now showed the utmost interest in America, and never tired of hearing of matters in that country. Indeed, this interest seemed to be almost universal. Lafayette, being under arrest, though in the " bosom of his family," was forbidden to go abroad, or to be seen except by the family ; but hundreds, under pretense of calling upon the Due, flocked to the Hotel de Noailles to pay court to him, and to obtain information at first hand of the progress of the struggle in the New World. Even the Queen, Marie Antoinette, was consumed with curiosity to see and talk with the young hero whose name was upon every lip. Naturally she could not receive him while he remained under the King's displeasure, but whenever Marie Antoinette wished anything she usually found a way to obtain it. Her woman's wit was equal to the present occasion. The grounds of the Palace of the Tuileries adjoined those of the Hotel de Noailles, and the Queen sent word to Lafay- ette that she would be driving through the palace grounds on a certain day af a certain hour. At the designated time Lafay- ette appeared upon the dividing line of the grounds, and an- [ 233 ] LAFAYETTE swered her questions concerning the Americans with so much enthusiasm that he inspired her with some of his own zeal. Thereafter she interested herself warmly in his behalf, procur- ing the command of the King's Dragoons for him. She was particularly interested in the character of Washington, and on this occasion and later, when she was at liberty to give him audiences, she questioned him closely concerning the Com- mander-in-Chief. It was a theme upon which Lafayette could wax eloquent, and so fervently did he eulogize his friend that sometime later the Queen remarked to Doctor Franklin with her accustomed naivete : " Do you know. Doctor, Lafayette has made me in love with your General Washington? What a man he must be, and what a friend he has in the Marquis ! " The time of " political quarantine " soon passed, and Louis the Sixteenth intimated that he would permit Lafayette to wait upon him. He received the Marquis graciously, admin- istered a gentle reproof for his past misconduct, and an ad- monition for the future; then, as appearances had been com- plied with, fell to questioning him eagerly concerning Ameri- can matters. And now Lafayette found himself upon the high tide of public favor. "A popular idol," the young Comte de Segur and the old Prime Minister, de Maurepas, had called him, and in truth he had become the lion of the day. He possessed the confidence of the King's Cabinet, was in high favor at Court, and was trusted by all classes of society. His name was upon every lip, and honors and festivities were showered upon him. Every reference to liberty in the theatres was twisted to refer [ 234 ] LAFAYETTE'S BUSY YEAR to the idol of the day, and was received with wild applause by the audiences. One evening Lafayette and his wife returned to the Hotel de Noailles after attending a fete given in his honor. He was distrait and so quiet that Adrienne regarded him anxiously. " Are you not well, Gilbert? " she asked with solicitude. " You are so silent and thoughtful." " I am thinking of America, Adrienne," he told her with sad- ness. " Of America, and of the cost of that fete to-night. The cause of liberty is of the greatest interest to all mankind, and over there it is being fought upon such slender means that there is danger of the battle being lost. The expense of such a fete as that given to-night would have organized the army of the United States." A startled look flashed into his wife's eyes. " You are always thinking of America, Gilbert. You will not Oh, Gilbert, you will not go back? " " Dearest, I am an American soldier on leave of absence. I must go back unless I can serve the United States better by remaining here. And in serving America, Adrienne, I am serving France. Have you not noticed many evidences that Republicanism is increasing among the people? I see many changes in that regard since my return. Discontent with the existing order of things is growing in France, and I rejoice to see it. There may come a time when we too shall be free. If the Americans are successful, France then will strive for inde- pendence." So spoke the enthusiast. Lafayette did not realize that the French people were not of the same temperament as those for [ 235 ] LAFAYETTE whom he had been fighting. Liberty had always been the birthright of the Anglo-Saxon; the French had never known it, and were not prepared for a new condition of things. It was too late when the knowledge came to him. Adrienne gazed at him in silence. His eyes were glowing with the light of high purpose and great resolves. She knew his nature. He loved his family, and was of an affectionate disposition. No husband could be more exemplary. But, before all other considerations he loved his country ; before his country he loved liberty. A great fear clutched her heart. So long as the American War lasted there was the possibility of his return. So the joy in his presence was tempered to the loving wife by the fear of again losing him. Meantime, considering that affairs in America were his first business while in Europe, Lafayette exerted himself to the ut- most to forward them. At first he believed that a descent upon the coast of England would divert that countrj^'s atten- tion from America, and turn the war into new channels. With this in view, under authority of Doctor Franklin, a plan was concerted with the French Cabinet whereby the Alliance and three French vessels were to be put under command of John Paul Jones, and Avith Lafayette in charge of fifteen thousand infantry, six pieces of artillery and some cavalry, an attack was to be made upon Liverpool, Lancaster, Bath, Bristol and Whitehaven. Tribute was to be levied upon the larger towns and the proceeds of the undertaking were to be sent to the United States to help equip and clothe the army. Much time was consumed in the furtherance of this plan, and Lafayette was now at Versailles closeted with the Minis- [ 236] LAFAYETTE'S BUSY YEAR ters, and then at Saintes where the King's Dragoons were sta- tioned, and again at Paris with his family. It was a busy time. The summer and the fall passed and winter came. On the twenty-third of December his third child — a son — was born. The event was one that brought great happiness to the young couple, and rejoicing to the family. It was a proud moment to the young wife when Lafayette lifted his new-born infant in his arms. "And may I name him, dearest? " he asked tenderly. " Surely, Gilbert. Is he not your son? " she said smilingly. *' Then he shall be named after the noblest and greatest man that I have ever known," he said. " George Washington." And in accordance with this the child was christened George Washington du Motier de Lafayette. The expedition for attacking England was abandoned in favor of a larger enterprise by which it was intended to make a descent upon England with the combined forces of France and Spain. An attempt was made to foment a rebellion in Ireland, to arrange with Holland for a considerable loan to the United States, and to induce the King of Sweden to lend America some of his ships of the line. England was not unaware of what menaced her, and gradu- ally assembled a powerful British squadron. The French fleet came too late from the south to convoy the troops across the Channel because the British ships had massed at Portsmouth, and so this grand expedition fell through. Lafayette " grieved in silence " over the failure. While Lafayette was at Havre awaiting the arrival of the fleet the sword that Congress had voted to him was finished. [ 237 1 LAFAYETTE It was of elegant workmanship. Among other designs with which it was ornamented were representations of the battle of Gloucester, the retreat of Barren Hill, the battle of Mon- mouth, and the retreat of Rhode Island. The sword was pre- sented by a grandson of Doctor Franklin, accompanied by a letter from the doctor, 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." And now with might and main Lafayette worked to bring to pass the largest of his propositions. He knew that America needed money, munitions of war, supplies of food and clothing, men, and a fleet of ships of the line to bring the struggle to a successful issue. He entreated, cajoled, supplicated, and so wearied the Ministry by his demands for them that at length he was successful in obtaining their promise to supply them, pledging his own entire fortune as security. So the expedition was assured. Six thousand regular troops of infantry under command of Lieutenant-General Rochambeau, and six ships of the line under Admiral de Ternay, were to be sent to America with the opening of spring. With the jealousies and questions of pre- cedence which had marred proceedings at Newport fresh in mind Lafayette insisted that all French troops should act under command of General Washington, and this also was promised. Herein lay the great good done for the United States by Lafayette. Other men would have been found to do as well at Brandy- wine, Gloucester, Barren Hill, Monmouth and Rhode Island [ 238 ] LAFAYETTE'S BUSY YEAR as he. But no other man could have accomplished at Ver- sailles what Lafayette did. " These inestimable services were of such importance that without them it is difficult, in the light of subsequent events, to imagine how America could have achieved its independence. No one else could have taken his place. He brought together and set in operation all the forces that could be exerted in favor of the United States; he filled men's minds with his own enthusiasm; he intensified the hatred of his countrymen for England; he invoked the glory of France; he appealed to the most effective impulses of his people always with one object in view,— to send help to America." * The King now instructed him that he was to proceed immedi- ately 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 in- fantry." Lafayette was a noble of high rank, a commander of the choicest regiment of the King's Dragoons, and as such was entitled to appear at his last audience at Versailles in glittering regalia. Instead, he received his final instructions clothed in the simple uniform of a Major-General of the Continental Army. In March, 1780, he went aboard the frigate Hermione, de- tailed for his use by the French Government, and once more set his face toward America. ' Charlemagne Tower: "The Marquis de La Fayette in the American Revo- lution," [ 239 ] a ■ a> i y ^\W[\0Si^^ii^^:-^ CHAPTER XXII An Appai^ling Discovery LAFAYETTE sailed into Boston harbor April twenty- eighth. The news of his coming spread like wild-fire throughout the city, and the wharves were lined with people. His personal popularity was such as to ensure him a welcome, but his exertions in behalf of the United States were known, and it was believed that he had not returned empty- handed. So the day was given up to public rejoicing; bells were rung, cannon boomed, and the shouts of the cheering mul- titude mingled with the strains of martial music as America welcomed this Soldier of Freedom. The hold that the young Frenchman had taken upon the American people was remark- able. It was one that no other foreigner has ever had. " His amiable temper, extraordinary prudence and judgment, un- selfish devotion and his exalted integrity had won him a host of friends, whilst his conduct as a soldier, as a statesman, and as a friend of American liberty had placed him, by the esteem of the nation, in the foreground among the acknowledged leaders of the Revolution." ' * Tower: "The Marquis de La Fayette in the American Revolution." [ 240 ] AN APPALLING DISCOVERY He at once sent off a letter to Washington at Morristown announcing his arrival, and received in reply a most affection- ate epistle from his Chief. It was told that Washington's eyes were suffused with tears as he read of the young enthusiast's return. Lafayette, on his part, perused the missive of Wash- ington with bounding heart. To have gained the friendship of such a man repaid him for everything that he had undergone in coming to the New World. Pleasing as Avere the demonstrations in his honor in Boston, Lafayette lost no time in hastening to Morristown, and arrived there safely on the twelfth of May, where he was welcomed with acclamations; for he was popular with both officers and soldiers. Washington greeted him as a son, folding him in a truly paternal embrace, and the two were soon closeted together to talk over the state of affairs. Lafayette could hardly wait to be seated before he told his news. *' My dear General," he exclaimed joyfully, *' I have great tidings, but they are to be known to you and Congress only. Listen then to what the King proposes to do for America." With this he told his Chief how his efforts had finally been crowned with success, and gave him the animating intelligence that a French fleet, under the Chevalier de Ternay, would put to sea early in April, bringing a body of troops under the Comte de Rochambeau, and might soon be expected to cooper- ate with the American forces. Washington received the infor- mation with gladness. The difficulties that beset his path had multiplied until even his brave spirit had begun to quail before them. [ 241 ] LAFAYETTE Affairs with the patriot army had not been prosperous, he told Lafayette. The dreary encampment at Valley Forge had been equalled in hardships by those suffered by the army Mobile hutted among the heights of Morristown. There had been, and was still, a scarcity of clothing and blankets, so that the poor soldiers had been suffering with cold as well as hunger. The root of the whole evil lay in the derangement of the cur- rency which had depreciated to such an extent that forty dol- lars in paper were equivalent to only one in specie. The cold had been the most intense ever remembered in the country. The great bay of New York had been frozen over so that an army with its heaviest artillery and baggage might have crossed the Hudson on the ice. Lafayette sprang to his feet excitedly at this intelligence. " My dear General," he cried, " why, New York might have been taken! What an opportunity for a coup de main! " Washington smiled sadly. "Was it not?" he asked quietly. "Yet I could not take advantage of it with half- fed, half -clothed troops, inferior in numbers to the garrison of the city, and with no funds to fit them for the enterprise. The enemy feared for the safety of the place as the ships of war, being immovable in the ice, af- forded no protection, and were ever on the alert." Lafayette sighed. To attack and take New York had al- ways been a pet scheme with both him and Washington. He knew how the great heart of his friend suffered because of the hardships of his soldiers and his inability to strike the foe when there was opportunity. For a long time the two sat silent, and then Washington told him that the British had abandoned [ 242 ] AN APPALLING DISCOVERY Newport so that in the North they now held only New York, Staten and Long Islands, but that Sir Henry Clinton had taken a force South in December, and was now besieging Charleston, South Carolina. There was every indication that the war would be carried there, and he had sent De Kalb with the Maryland line and the Delaware regiment to give such assistance as he could. " I have almost ceased to hope," said Washington, with a despondency that Lafayette had never before seen him exhibit. " The country is in such a state of insensibility and indifference to its interests that if the present moment does not produce correspondent exertions, it will be proof that motives of honor, public good, and even self-preservation have lost their influence on our minds." *' I shall go to Philadelphia to-morrow, my dear friend, to pay my respects to Congress," said Lafayette. " While there I will address that body and try to rouse them. I have ex- tolled America, her spirit, her virtue, her resources, to such an extent that I shall be ashamed to confess our inability to do anything to my countrymen. The States must be roused." The next day Lafayette proceeded to Philadelphia. He had now no cause to complain of his reception from Congress. That body gave him appropriate thanks for his exertions in Europe in behalf of America, and passed a resolution in his honor. Both Lafayette and Washington made pathetic ap- peals for the relief of the suffering army, and the ladies of the city began at once to gather donations to lessen the miseries of the poor troops. With his customary generosity Lafayette gave one hundred guineas in the name of Madame Lafayette. [ 243 ]