I
A few years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence a
hostile Mohawk chief met in council a representative of the young
American republics for the purpose of concluding a treaty of peace. The
representative of young democracy was a soldier of France, the Marquis
de Lafayette. Primitive America on the one hand, ancient Europe on the
other! "Father," said the Indian, "we have heard thy voice and we
rejoice that thou hast visited thy children to give to them good and
necessary advice. Thou hast said that we have done wrong in opening our
ears to wicked men, and closing our hearts to thy counsels. Father, it
is all true; we have left the good path; we have wandered away from it
and have been enveloped in a black cloud. We have now returned that thou
mayest find in us good and faithful children. We rejoice to hear thy
voice among us. It seems that the Great Spirit has directed thy
footsteps to this council of friendship to smoke the calumet of peace
and fellowship with thy long-lost children."
The Indian warrior's vision was true in a greater sense than he knew.
Through him the soul of America spoke to the soul of Europe, and it
spoke of the fellowship of man. Perhaps the footsteps of this soldier of
France were indeed directed by a high Providence. Perhaps he was himself
a message from the infinite. I love, for my own part, to believe that at
his birth there appeared in this world an eternal and mighty spirit, a
spirit perhaps from another age or sphere. Who knows? Why not? Who is
there can look into the great unknown, the vast and impenetrable depths
of the heavens, and say that this could not be, and was not so? How else
explain this child of a French monarchy, brought up among the titled
nobility of France, who amidst such conditions grew to manhood--the
devotee of freedom and the ever-loyal champion of democracy?
Lafayette was born on September 6, 1757, at the Château de Chavagnac in
the province of Auvergne in the monarchy of France. Two months before
his birth his father was killed in battle. Left to the sole guidance of
an indulgent mother, surrounded by flattering attendants and the
enervating influences of wealth and noble birth, he faced the empty and
useless life of a mere titled, wealthy aristocrat. What saved him? To
add to these inauspicious beginnings, he was, at the age of twelve, sent
to Paris to the College du Plessis where his rank and wealth introduced
him to all the gaieties and dissipations of exclusive fashionable
Parisian society. His mother died when he was but thirteen, leaving him
in the full possession of large and valuable estates, the absolute
master of his own destiny, and subject to the indulgences and
corruptions of one of the most notorious courts of all Europe. Of a
winning personality, he was appointed one of the King's pages, a
position much coveted by the princes and nobles of the kingdom. He was
also enrolled in the King's Regiment of Mousquetaires, and at the age of
fifteen through the favour of the Queen obtained a commission, an honour
conferred as a mark of especial royal regard. He was married at the age
of sixteen, and his young wife was a daughter of the aristocratic house
of Noailles, one of the most powerful and influential families of the
French court. What more profoundly barren soil could be chosen to
produce the self-denying fighter for liberty, the clean-minded democrat,
Lafayette?
A significant incident is told of his early life. Shortly after his
marriage, his wife's family sought for him an honorary position in the
household of the Count de Provençe, afterward Louis XVIII King of
France. Lafayette did not wish the appointment. The spirit of Lafayette,
the democrat, was already restive under royal authority. To prevent the
honour being thrust upon him, and in order at the same time not to
offend his family by refusing to accept, he sought an opportunity to
make himself so obnoxious to the Count that the arrangement could not go
through. The chance offered itself at a masked ball where the Count
appeared in a disguise which was instantly penetrated by Lafayette.
Making himself known, he lost no time in engaging in conversation the
royal personage, who thought himself unknown, and with a freedom and
boldness bordering upon discourtesy, he gave voice to facts and opinions
which he knew would be obnoxious to his listener's ear. The future King
of France had little hesitation in making up his mind that the young
Marquis would be a refractory attaché, and declined to make the
requested appointment.
Providence, or his own spirit, had saved Lafayette for democracy.