received him in state, every member springing to his feet in welcome
to the nation’s guest. Henry Clay, the Speaker of the House of
Representatives, held out his hand to the gallant Frenchman. “The vain
wish has been sometimes indulged,” said Henry Clay to Lafayette,
“that Providence would allow the patriot, after death, to return to
his country and to contemplate the immediate changes which had taken
place; to view the forests felled, the cities built, the mountains
leveled, the canals cut, the highways constructed, the progress of the
arts, the advancement of learning, and the increase of population.
General, your present visit to the United States is a realization of
the consoling object of that wish. You are in the midst of posterity.
Everywhere you must have been struck with the great changes, physical
and moral, which have occurred since you left us. Even this very city,
bearing a venerated name, alike endeared to you and to us, has since
emerged from the forest which then covered its site. In one respect you
behold us unaltered, and this is the sentiment of continued devotion to
liberty, and of ardent affection and profound gratitude to your departed
friend, the Father of his Country, and to you, and to your illustrious
associates in the field and in the Cabinet, for the multiplied blessings
which surround us, and for the very privilege of addressing you which
I now exercise. This sentiment, now fondly cherished by more than ten
millions of people, will be transmitted with unabated vigor down the
tide of time, through the countless millions who are destined to inhabit
this continent to the latest posterity.”
Henry Clay was a great prophet as well as a great orator. We know now
how the affection of the United States for Lafayette has grown and grown
during the century in which the republic has stretched from the Atlantic
to the Pacific and its people increased from ten millions to more than a
hundred millions.
In his journey through the country Lafayette passed through thousands
of miles of wilderness and had several opportunities to renew his old
acquaintance with the Indians. He had won their friendship during the
Revolution by his sympathy for all men. Now he found that they had
not forgotten the young chief whom they had called Kayoula. A girl of
the Southern Creeks showed him a paper she had kept as a relic which
turned out to be a letter of thanks written to her father by Lafayette
forty-five years before. In western New York he met the famous chief Red
Jacket, who reminded him that it was he who had argued the cause of the
Indians at the council at Fort Schuyler in 1784. Lafayette remembered,
and it delighted him greatly that the Indians were as eager to greet him
as their white brothers.
Only one mishap occurred during the many journeys which might easily
have proved full of perils. While ascending the Ohio River on his way to
Louisville his steamer struck on a snag on a dark and rainy night. The
boat immediately began to fill. Lafayette was hurried into a small boat
and rowed ashore, in spite of his protests that he would not leave the
steamer until he secured a snuff-box that Washington had given him. His
secretary went below and got the snuff-box and his son George saved some
other articles of value. All the party were safely landed, but they had
to spend some hours on the river-bank with no protection from the rain
and only a few crackers to eat. The next morning a freight steamer took
them off and they proceeded on their journey.
When he was in Washington Lafayette made a visit to Mount Vernon, and
spent some time in the beautiful house and grounds where he had once
walked with the man whose friendship had been so dear to him. Like
Washington, almost all the men of the Revolution had departed. The
Frenchman found few of the soldiers and statesmen he had known then.
One, however, Colonel Nicholas Fish, who had been with him at the
storming of the redoubt at Yorktown, welcomed him in New York and went
with him up the Hudson. “Nick,” said Lafayette, pointing out a certain
height to Colonel Fish, “do you remember when we used to ride down that
hill with the Newburgh girls on an ox-sled?” Many places along the
Hudson served to remind him of incidents of the time when Washington had
made his headquarters there.
In New York the Frenchman visited the widow of General Montgomery and
Mrs. Alexander Hamilton. He found some old friends in Philadelphia and
Baltimore. In Boston he saw again the venerable John Adams, who had been
the second President of the country. He went to Thomas Jefferson’s home
of Monticello in Virginia, and passed some days with the man whom he
revered almost as much as he did Washington. With Jefferson he talked
over the lessons that were to be learned from the French Revolution and
the career of Napoleon. And he met foreigners in the United States who
called to mind the recent eventful days in his own land. He visited
Joseph Bonaparte, Napoleon’s brother, at Bordentown in New Jersey. At
Baltimore he found Dubois Martin, the man who as secretary to the Duke
de Broglie had helped Lafayette to secure the ship in which he had first
sailed to America. And at Savannah he discovered Achille Murat, the son
of Joachim, the ex-king of Naples, one of the men Napoleon had placed
upon a temporary throne, and learned that Murat was now cultivating an
orange-orchard in Florida.
A man named Haguy came one hundred and fifty miles to see the General,
and proved to be one of the sailors who had crossed on the _Victory_
with him and had later fought under him in the Continental Army. Here
and there he found veterans of his campaign in Virginia, and Lafayette
was as glad to see his old soldiers as they were to welcome him.
Before he left for Europe John Quincy Adams, the son of the second
President, was elected to succeed Monroe. The new President invited
Lafayette to dine at the White House in company with the three
ex-Presidents Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe, all of them old and
trusted friends of the Frenchman. What a dinner that must have been,
with five such men at the table!
Perhaps the thing that delighted him most in America was the
self-reliant independence that marked the people everywhere. This type
of democracy was most inspiring to a man who had seen the constant
turmoil and bickerings of the Revolution and Napoleonic era in France.
America was young and her citizens were too busy developing their
country to pay much attention to class distinctions or the social
ambitions that were so prominent in Europe. They felt quite able to run
their government to suit themselves, and it seemed to Lafayette that
they were working out their problems in a most satisfactory manner.
In 1824 he witnessed a Presidential election with four candidates,
Adams, Jackson, Clay, and Crawford. Party feelings ran high, and there
was great excitement. But when the election was over the people settled
down to their work again in remarkable harmony and the government
continued its course serenely. This Lafayette, with his knowledge of
other countries, regarded as evidence of a most unusual genius for
self-control in the American nation.
All parties, all classes of men, praised and venerated him as they
praised and venerated the founders of their republic. His tour was a
tremendous popular success, the greatest reception ever given to a
guest by the United States. It must have made up to him for the many
disappointments of his career in France. And when he sailed for home he
knew that the country to which he had given all he had in youth would
never cease to love and honor him.
President John Quincy Adams at the White House, standing beside
Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe, said to Lafayette, “You are ours,
sir, by that unshaken sentiment of gratitude for your services which
is a precious portion of our inheritance; ours by that tie of love,
stronger than death, which has linked your name for the endless ages
of time with the name of Washington. At the painful moment of parting
with you we take comfort in the thought that, wherever you may be, to
the last pulsation of your heart, our country will ever be present to
your affections. And a cheering consolation assures us that we are not
called to sorrow,--most of all that we shall see your face no more,--for
we shall indulge the pleasing anticipation of beholding our friend
again. In the name of the whole people of the United States, I bid you a
reluctant and affectionate farewell.”
An American frigate, named the _Brandywine_, in compliment to
Lafayette’s first blow for liberty in America, carried the guest of the
nation back to France. And the memory of that visit, and of what it
stood for, has been kept green in American history ever since.
XIV
THE LOVER OF LIBERTY
The frigate _Brandywine_ reached Havre on October 5, 1825. The French
people had heard of the wonderful reception given Lafayette by the
United States and now they, in their turn, wanted to welcome the
returning hero of liberty. But the Bourbon king who sat on the throne
of France and the royalists disliked Lafayette so much that they did
their best to prevent the people from greeting him. It was only after
a long discussion that the forts of the harbor at Havre were permitted
to return the salute of the _Brandywine_, and at Rouen, while citizens
were serenading their hero beneath the windows of the house where he
was staying, officials of the government ordered a troop of soldiers to
charge upon the crowd and disperse it with drawn swords. The people,
however, insisted on honoring their famous fellow-countryman. They,
as well as the Bourbon king, saw in him the patriot and champion of
independence. Louis XVIII. had been succeeded on the throne by his
brother, Charles X., and the latter said of Lafayette, “There is a man
who never changes.” And the people knew this, and honored the General
for his lifelong devotion to their cause.
He went back to his quiet family life at Lagrange. Prominent statesmen
came to him for advice, but he rarely went to Paris. The nobility had
been restored to their ancient social standing, and Lafayette was urged
to resume his title of marquis. He refused to do this, however, and the
refusal embittered the royalists even more against him. The Bourbon
government feared his influence in 1825, just as the aristocrats had
feared it in 1785, the Jacobins in 1795, and Napoleon in 1805.
Yet Charles X. could not always conceal the fact that he had a strong
personal liking for the old republican. One day in 1829 the newspapers
announced that Lafayette was ill. The King met several members of the
Chamber of Deputies. “Have you any news of Monsieur de Lafayette?” asked
King Charles. “How is he?”
“Much better, sire,” answered a deputy.
“Ah! I am very glad of it!” said the King. “That is a man whom I like
much, and who has rendered services to our family that I do not forget.
We have always encountered each other, although moving in opposite
directions; we were born in the same year; we learned to ride on
horseback together at the Versailles riding-school, and he belonged
to my bureau in the Assembly of the Notables. I take a great deal of
interest in him.”
King Charles and his friends, however, paid no attention to the new
spirit that was awake in France. The people had won a constitution, but
the King tried to limit it as far as he could and to override it in some
ways. He roused the resentment of the country by trying to bring back
the old extravagance of his ancestors, and he even dared to attempt to
intimidate the Chamber of Deputies. In 1829 he dissolved the National
Assembly and appointed as ministers men who had won the hatred of the
nation for their autocratic views. The gauntlet was thrown down between
king and people, and the latter were not slow to pick it up.
At this time Lafayette happened to be traveling to Chavaniac, where
his son now lived. He was greeted at every town with the usual marks
of respect. At Puy he was given a public dinner, and toasts were drunk
to “The charter, to the Chamber of Deputies, the hope of France!” When
he reached the city of Grenoble he was met by a troop of horsemen, who
escorted him to the gates. There citizens presented him with a crown
of oak leaves made of silver “as a testimony of the gratitude of the
people, and as an emblem of the strength with which the inhabitants
of Grenoble, following his example, will sustain their rights and the
constitution.”
All along his route he was greeted with cheers and expressions that
showed the people looked to him to protect their rights. At Lyons a
speaker protested against the recent unlawful acts of the King and spoke
of the situation as critical. “I should qualify as critical the present
moment,” Lafayette replied, “if I had not recognized everywhere on my
journey, and if I did not perceive in this powerful city, the calm and
even scornful firmness of a great people which knows its rights, feels
its strength, and will be faithful to its duties.”
Through the winter of 1829-30 the hostile attitude of Charles X. to his
people continued. The new Chamber of Deputies was rebellious, and again
the King dissolved it and ordered fresh elections. The country elected
new deputies who were even more opposed to the King than the former
ones had been. Then King Charles, urged on by his ministers, resolved
to take a decisive step, to issue four edicts revoking the liberty of
the press and taking from the deputies their legal powers. “Gentlemen,”
said the King to his ministers as he signed the edicts, “these are grave
measures. You can count upon me as I count upon you. Between us, this is
now a matter of life and death.”
The King had virtually declared war on the country. The country answered
by taking up arms. The royal troops in Paris, moving to take control
of important points in the city, were met by armed citizens who fought
them in the streets. Marmont, head of the King’s military household,
sent word to Charles, “It is no longer a riot, it is a revolution. It
is urgent that your Majesty should adopt measures of pacification. The
honor of the crown may yet be saved; to-morrow perhaps it will be too
late.”
King Charles paid no heed. The citizens defeated the royal troops, and
in a few days had them besieged in their headquarters. Then the deputies
turned to Lafayette and urged him to accept the position of commander
of the National Guard, the same position he had held many years before.
“I am invited,” he answered, “to undertake the organization of the
defense. It would be strange and even improper, especially for those who
have given former pledges of devotion to the national cause, to refuse
to answer the appeals addressed to them. Instructions and orders are
demanded from me on all sides. My replies are awaited. Do you believe
that in the presence of the dangers which threaten us immobility suits
my past and present life? No! My conduct at seventy-three years of age
shall be what it was at thirty-two.”
Lafayette took command of the Guards and quickly had the city of Paris
in his possession. Only then did King Charles, fearing alike for
his crown and his life now, consent to sign a new ordinance revoking
his former edicts. Commissioners brought the ordinance of the King
to Lafayette at the Hôtel de Ville. “It is too late now,” Lafayette
declared. “We have revoked the ordinances ourselves. Charles X. has
ceased to reign.”
The question now was as to the new form of government for the country.
The people still remembered the days of the Reign of Terror and were
not ready for a real republic. The Duke of Orleans, who had opposed
King Charles, was very popular, and it was decided to appoint him
lieutenant-general of the nation. The people would have liked to have
Lafayette as their governor. The French captain of the ship that carried
the fugitive Charles X. away from France, said to the ex-King, “If
Lafayette, during the recent events, had desired the crown, he could
have obtained it. I myself was a witness to the enthusiasm that the
sight of him inspired among the people.”
But Lafayette did not want the crown, nor even to be the constitutional
head of the nation. It seemed to him best that the Duke of Orleans
should receive the crown, not as an inheritance, but as a free gift of
the people accompanied by proper limitations. So he took steps to have
the country accept the Duke as its new ruler.
The people of France had at last become an important factor in deciding
on their own form of government. The Duke of Orleans, better known as
Louis Philippe, did not seize the crown, as earlier kings had done;
he waited until the Chamber of Deputies and Lafayette, representing
the nation, offered it to him, and then he accepted it as a republican
prince. The deputies marched with the Duke to the Hôtel de Ville, and
as they went through the streets there were more shouts of “_Vive la
liberté!_” than there were of “_Vive le Duc d’Orléans!_” Liberty meant
far more to the people now than a king did, and Prince Louis Philippe
knew it. As he went up the stairs of the Hôtel de Ville he said
conciliatingly to the armed men among whom he passed, “You see a former
National Guard of 1789, who has come to visit his old general.”
Lafayette had always wanted a constitutional monarchy for France; he
knew Louis Philippe well, being allied to him through marriage with
the Noailles family, and he believed that the Duke would make a capable
ruler, his authority being limited by the will of the people. So when
Louis Philippe came to him at the Hôtel de Ville Lafayette placed
a tricolored flag in the Duke’s hand, and leading him to a window,
embraced him in full sight of the great throng in the street. The people
had been undecided; they did not altogether trust any royal prince; but
when they saw Lafayette’s act, they immediately followed his lead, and
cheers for the constitution and the Duke greeted the men at the window.
Lafayette had given France her new ruler, declining the crown for
himself, even as Washington had done in the United States. He made it
clear to the new king that he expected him to rule according to the
laws. He said to Louis Philippe, “You know that I am a republican and
that I regard the Constitution of the United States as the most perfect
that has ever existed.”
“I think as you do,” answered Louis Philippe. “It is impossible to have
passed two years in America and not to be of that opinion. But do you
believe that in the present situation of France and in accordance with
general opinion that it would be proper to adopt it?”
“No,” said Lafayette; “what the French people want to-day is a popular
throne surrounded by republican institutions.”
“Such is my belief,” Louis Philippe agreed.
Charles X. had fled from his kingdom before Lafayette and the people
even as his brother Louis XVIII. had once fled from it before Napoleon
and the people. On August 9, 1830, the Duke of Orleans entered the
Palais Bourbon, where the Chambers were assembled, as lieutenant-general
of the kingdom, and left it as Louis Philippe, King of the French. The
constitution which he had sworn to obey was not, like former charters, a
favor granted by the throne, but was the organic law of the land, to the
keeping of which the sovereign was as much bound as the humblest of his
subjects. Lafayette and the people had at last won a great victory for
independence after all the ups and downs of the Revolution and the days
of Napoleon.
As Lafayette marched his reorganized National Guard, thirty thousand
strong, in review before the King, it was clear that the General was the
most popular, as well as the most powerful, man in France. And at the
public dinner that the city of Paris gave him on August fifteenth, when
he congratulated his fellow-citizens on the success and valor with which
they had defended their liberties and besought them to preserve the
fruits of victory by union and order, he could justly feel that a life
devoted to the cause of freedom had not been spent in vain.
The coming years were to show that the people of France had much yet
to learn about self-government, but when one contrasts the results of
the revolution of 1830 with that of 1789 one sees how far they had
progressed in knowledge.
Lafayette’s presence was needed at Louis Philippe’s court to act as a
buffer between the sovereign and the people, and again and again he saw
revealed the truth of the old adage, “Uneasy lies the head that wears
a crown.” Presently a revolution in Belgium left the throne of that
country vacant and it was offered to Lafayette. “What would I do with
a crown!” he exclaimed. “Why, it would suit me about as much as a ring
would become a cat!”
The duties of his office as Commander of the National Guard, the tact
that was constantly required of him as intermediary between the people
and the royal court began to wear upon him, and he soon resigned his
position as Commander. Then, as a member of the Chamber of Deputies,
he continued his political labors. In time he saw many incidents that
pointed in the direction of new aggressions on the part of the King,
and he even came to believe that the fight for liberty was not yet
won and never would be so long as a Bourbon occupied the throne of
France. But he wanted the desired end to be reached by peaceful means,
constantly preached loyalty to the government they had founded as the
chief duty of the nation, and when, in 1832, a new revolution seemed
imminent he would have no part in it and by his indignant words quickly
brought the attempt to an end. He was now seventy-seven years old and
great-grandchildren played about his knees at his home at Lagrange.
His work for France and for America and for the world was done. In the
spring of 1834 he caught a severe cold, which sapped his strength. On
May twentieth of that year he died, having worked almost to the last
on problems of government. As his funeral wound through the streets
of Paris to the little cemetery of Picpus, in the center of the city,
a great throng followed. On that day church-bells tolled in France,
Belgium, Poland, Switzerland, and England. All nations that loved
liberty honored the great apostle of it. In the United States the
government and the army and navy paid to Lafayette’s memory the same
honors they had given to Washington, the Congress of the United States
went into mourning for thirty days and most of the people of the nation
followed its example. America vowed never to forget the French hero; and
America never has.
Men have sometimes said that Lafayette’s enthusiasm was too impulsive,
his confidence in others too undiscriminating, his goal too far beyond
the reach of his times; but these were the marks of his own sincere and
ardent nature. He was remarkably consistent in all the sudden shiftings
of an age full of changes. Other men had sought favor of the Jacobins,
of Napoleon, and of Louis XVIII. as each came into power; but Lafayette
never did. All men knew where he stood. As Charles X. said of him,
“There is a man who never changes.” He stood fast to his principles, and
by standing fast to them saw them ultimately succeed.
He was a man who made and held strong friends. Washington, Jefferson,
and Fox loved him as they loved few others. Napoleon and Charles X.
could not resist the personal attraction of this man whom neither could
bribe and whom both feared. Honesty was the key-note of his character,
and with it went a simplicity and generosity that drew the admiration of
enemies as well as of friends.
He had done a great deal for France, he had done as much for the United
States. His love of liberty bound the two nations together, and when, in
1917, one hundred and forty years after his coming to America to fight
for freedom, the United States proclaimed war as an ally of France in
that same great cause, the thought of Lafayette sprang to every mind.
The cause for which he had fought was again imperiled. The America
in which Lafayette had believed was now to show that he had not been
mistaken in his vision of her.
XV
AMERICA’S MESSAGE TO FRANCE--“LAFAYETTE, WE COME!”
There have been many great changes in all the countries of the world
since the time of Lafayette, and in most nations liberty has become more
and more the watchword and the goal. The French Revolution was like a
deep chasm between the era of feudalism and the era of the rights of
man, and though the pendulum has sometimes seemed to swing backward for
a short time it has almost constantly swung farther and farther forward
in the direction of independence. The right of the common man to life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness has gradually taken the place of
the so-called divine right of kings to do as they pleased with their
subjects.