If any of my readers who live in the city of New York happen to be
passing the lower end of Union Square some day, they will see, standing
among the trees of the little park, a bronze statue. It is nearly
opposite the corner of Broadway and Fourteenth Street, and is turned a
little to one side, toward the noble statue of Washington on horseback,
which is in the centre of the three-cornered space between the park,
Fourteenth Street, and Union Square East. It represents a tall young
man, in the close-fitting uniform of an American General of the time of
the Revolution. With his right hand he clasps a sword against his
breast. His left hand is stretched out toward Washington; his figure is
erect, and inclined forward, as if about to spring from the prow of a
boat, which the base of the statue is made to represent. This is a
statue of the beloved and gallant Frenchman whom we commonly call
Lafayette, whom the people of the Revolutionary days delighted to name
"the young Marquis," and whose real name was Marie Jean Paul Roch Yves
Gilbert Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. The story of his whole life is one
of the most interesting and pleasing that has ever been written; but for
the present I am to give you only the story of his services to America,
and of his life during the few years in which those services were
rendered. The statue that I have spoken of was set up in honor of these
great services, in order that the young Americans who live in the full
enjoyment of the blessings of freedom and order for which he fought may
not forget him.
Lafayette was born in the province of Auvergne, France, on the 6th of
September, 1757, shortly after the death of his father, who was an
officer in the French army, and was killed at Minden. His own family was
poor, but the death of his mother's father made him, while yet a child,
very rich. As the custom was in those days in France, he entered the
army while scarcely in his teens, and before he had left the Academy of
Versailles, where he was educated. As was also the custom, he was
married very young--while only sixteen--to a daughter of the house of
Ayen and Noailles, who herself was only thirteen; but children though
they were, they were possessed of strong natures, and their union was a
very loving and happy one. Lafayette describes himself in boyhood as
"silent because he neither thought nor heard much which seemed worth
saying," and as having "awkwardness of manner, which did not trouble him
on important occasions, but made him ill at ease among the graces of the
court or the pleasures of a Paris supper." He was an ardent lover of
freedom in the midst of an aristocratic society, and when his family
wanted to attach him to the court he managed by a witty but offensive
remark about the royal family to break up the arrangement. "Republican
stories," he says, "charmed me," and he heard of the Declaration of
American Independence with "a thrill of sympathy and joy."
He was just nineteen when, over a dinner given by an English Duke to the
French officers of the garrison of Metz, he first learned of the
Declaration. "My heart was instantly enlisted," he wrote, "and I thought
of nothing but joining _my flag_." From that moment he regarded himself
as a soldier in the army of American freedom. He knew his family would
oppose him. "I counted, therefore, only on myself, and ventured to take
for my motto _cur non?_" (why not?). He had great trouble in getting
away. Going to Paris, he first obtained from the American agent there,
Silas Deane, a promise of a commission as Major-General; but he had to
keep everything very secret, to blind his family, his friends, the
government--to avoid French and English spies. Only his girl-wife and
two of his cousins knew what he was doing. Just as he had completed his
plans, news came of the terrible defeats which Washington had suffered
on Long Island and in the neighborhood of New York. The "arch-rebel," as
the English called General Washington, was fleeing across the New Jersey
plains, with only a handful of men, and the insurrection was believed to
be nearly over. The American agent in Paris was dismayed and cast down.
He told Lafayette that he could furnish him no vessel to go to America,
and tried to persuade him to give up his project. Thanking Mr. Deane for
his frankness, the brave young fellow answered, "Until now, sir, you
have seen only my zeal; perhaps I may now be useful. I shall buy a ship
which will carry your officers. We must show our confidence in the
cause; and it is in danger that I shall be glad to share your fortunes."
To cover his designs, he joined his uncle, the Prince of Paix, on a
visit to London, where he was much courted. "At nineteen," he wrote, "I
liked perhaps a little too well to trifle with the King I was about to
fight, to dance at the house of the English Colonial Minister, in the
company of Lord Rawdon, just arrived from New York, and to meet at the
opera the General Clinton whom I was to meet the next time at the battle
of Monmouth." Finally his arrangements were all made, and he came back
to France to join his vessel. To his dismay, he was met by an order from
the King to report, under arrest, at Marseilles. He pretended to start
for that city, but on the way, disguised as a postilion, he turned
aside, and after nearly being caught while sleeping on some straw in the
stable of a post inn, he finally boarded his ship, with Baron De Kalb
and others, and set sail for America. It was the 26th of April, 1777,
"six months, filled with labor and impatience," since he had formed his
plan. He was seven weeks on the sea. His ship was clumsy, and, armed
with "only two bad cannon and a few muskets, could not have escaped the
smallest English cruiser." Of these he encountered several, but lucky
winds bore them away from him. He slipped between the ships guarding the
coast, and landed in the night near the city of Charleston, South
Carolina. "At last," he says, "I felt American soil beneath my feet, and
my first words were a vow to conquer or perish in the cause."
He straightway set out for Philadelphia, where Congress was in session,
and near which the army of Washington was encamped. The journey was long
and fatiguing. From Petersburg, Virginia, he wrote to his wife: "I set
out grandly in a carriage; at present we are on horseback, having broken
my carriage, according to my admirable habit; I hope to write you in a
few days that we have arrived safely on foot." The fatigue of the
journey could not repress his constant gayety. When he reached
Philadelphia, Congress was greatly bothered with foreign adventurers
more anxious for rank and pay than to fight for America. Lafayette
perceived the coolness of his reception, but far from being discouraged,
he wrote to the President of Congress, "By the sacrifices that I have
made I have a right to demand two favors: one, to serve without pay; the
other, to begin my service in the ranks." Carried away by such generous
devotion, Congress immediately gave Lafayette a commission as
Major-General, and Washington placed him on his own staff.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]