A WELCOME RELEASE
More than a year had passed after the attempt at rescue when one day
Lafayette heard the big keys turning in the several locks, one after
another, that barred his cell, and in a moment his wife and two
daughters stood before his amazed eyes! Could this be true, or was it
a vision?
It will be remembered that shortly after Lafayette's arrest he had
heard that Madame de Lafayette was imprisoned and was in danger of
perishing on the scaffold. A year later the news was smuggled to him
that she was still alive. But what had been happening to her and to
his three children during all these dismal years?
Through the instrumentality of James Monroe, the ambassador to France
from the United States,--the only foreign power that in the days of
the French Revolution would send its representative,--Madame de
Lafayette was liberated from an imprisonment that tried her soul, even
as Olmütz had proved and tested the spirit of her husband. Through
all those tragic months Adrienne showed herself a woman of high and
unswerving courage.
Now, indeed, was the American citizenship of her husband--and it had
included his family also--of value to her. Madame de Lafayette's first
letter to Mr. Monroe shows this. This dignified letter is preserved in
the manuscript department of the New York Public Library and is here
printed for the first time:
"Having learned that a minister of the United States has recently
arrived in France, who has been sent by his government and invested
with powers representing a people in whose interests I have some
rights that are dear to my heart, I have felt that such misfortunes as
I have not already suffered were no longer to be feared for me, that
the most unjust of captivities was about to be at an end, and that my
sufferings accompanied by irreproachable conduct towards the
principles and towards the laws of my country, cause me to have
confidence in the name of this protecting nation at a moment when the
voice of justice is once more heard, and when the National Convention
is undertaking to deliver such patriots as have been unjustly
imprisoned. I have begun to hope that the wishes of my heart shall be
fulfilled--that I may be returned to my children. For ten months I
have been taken away from them. From the very moment of their birth
they have heard that they have a second country, and they have the
right to hope that they will be protected by it."
Through the official authority of Mr. Monroe, Madame de Lafayette was
given money and passports. When Washington first heard of her plight,
he sent her a reverent letter inclosing a thousand dollars, and he was
unceasing in his correspondence with representatives in France and
England for herself as well as for Lafayette. She sent her son, George
Washington de Lafayette, to his illustrious namesake in America, and
as "Madame Motier, of Hartford, Connecticut," she, with her two young
daughters, made her way to Hamburg where, instead of taking ship for
America, she took carriage across the wide spaces of Germany and
Austria. Here she gained an audience with the emperor, and bowing at
his feet asked permission to go to the fortress of Olmütz and stay
with her husband until he was set free.
"Your request is granted," he said; "but as for Lafayette--I cannot
free him; my hands are tied." Exactly what it was that had "tied the
hands" of the great potentate has never been revealed.
Her petition being granted, Madame de Lafayette continued her journey.
Two days more and she and her daughters were with her husband.
The day of their meeting was spent in trying to bear the joy of the
reunion. Not until the daughters were sent to their cell did she tell
Lafayette of the sad things that had happened. Her mother, her
grandmother, and her sister had, with many friends and relatives, been
led to the scaffold. These and many other facts of tragic interest to
the man so long deprived of any word from outside his prison were
shared with Lafayette.
It may go without saying that Lafayette's prison days were now far
easier to bear, except that to see Madame de Lafayette grow more and
more broken in health as days went on, in their close, unlighted, and
malodorous cells, must have caused an added sorrow. After a time she
was obliged to ask the emperor to allow her to go to Vienna for
medical attendance. He granted the request, but with the proviso that
she should never return. Then she decided to remain with her husband,
even at the risk of her life.
Shall the miseries of their prison life be dwelt upon? Their jailers
were the coarsest of human beings. They surpassed in brutality the
slave drivers of Constantinople. The food, which the family bought
for themselves, was coarse and miserably cooked. Tobacco floated in
the coffee. Lafayette's clothes were in tatters. When his shoes had
been soled fifteen times and resented the indignity any further, his
daughter Anastasie took it upon herself to make shoes for him out of
an old coat.
Lafayette's dingy cell was, however, now brightened by companionship
and by inspiring conversation. Even work was going on, for Madame de
Lafayette prepared a life of her mother while she was at Olmütz. It
was written with a toothpick and a little lampblack on the margins of
a copy of Buffon which she succeeded in obtaining. One of the
daughters amused the family by making pencil sketches; one of the
burly old turnkey, with his sword, candle, and keys, and his hair in a
comical queue behind, amused the family very much and was carried with
them when they left their dismal abode.
Before the desolate prison of Olmütz fades from our view, let one
laurel wreath be placed upon the head of young Felix Pontonnier,
sixteen years old when he became the servant of Lafayette, whom he
faithfully followed into prison. He was with Lafayette when he was
arrested and was bidden to look after his master's belongings; so he
was separated from him for several days. This gave him an excellent
opportunity to escape, but he refused to take advantage of it. Of his
own accord he joined Lafayette once more, and during the whole long
season of his captivity he gave ample proof of his devotion. He
possessed a rare inventive genius and was constantly on the alert to
devise means for making the prisoners comfortable and to find out ways
for carrying on secret correspondence. He invented a special language
known only to himself and to the prisoners, and also a unique
gesture-language. He whistled notes like a captive bird; with varied
modulations he conveyed to the prisoners whatever news he could ferret
out. Prison life proved to be bad for him, and his health was several
times endangered. For a fancied offense he was once confined in total
darkness for three months. But none of his sufferings dashed his gay
spirits. He was constantly sustained by a buoyant cheer, and his
wonderful devotion should win him a place among heroes. After the five
years of captivity were over, Lafayette made Felix the manager of his
farm at La Grange. He filled this position with success and probity.
It was through the fiat of Napoleon Bonaparte that the removal of
Lafayette from Olmütz was made possible. Bonaparte was influenced by a
long-sighted policy; he desired to win to himself the man of so unique
a personality. He was also spurred on by various writers and
diplomats, by representatives of the French Directory, and by
Brigadier General Henri Jacques Guillaume Clarke, who was for a time
governor of Vienna and who won the title of "the incorruptible" from
Napoleon. President Washington's dignified and effective letter to the
Emperor of Austria is believed to have left its mark; and in a
thousand ways public opinion had awakened to the ignominy of leaving
such a man as Lafayette in prison. Lafayette disliked to be indebted
to anybody but himself for an escape from his dungeon; but he
willingly admitted that he owed much to his devoted wife whose many
letters imploring help for her husband were among the causes that
unlocked the double-barred doors of Olmütz.
When finally released, Lafayette was taken in a carriage from Olmütz
to Dresden, thence by way of Dresden, Leipzig, and Halle to Hamburg,
where the American consul received him. So wearied was Madame de
Lafayette that she made the journey with the greatest difficulty, and
a voyage to America at that time was out of the question. The family,
therefore, took refuge in an obscure town in Holland, since there was
no other European country where the monarchy would be safe if it
conferred the right of residence upon any man who bore the name of
Lafayette.