Chapter XVII (3)

One infirmary is a lying-in hospital. The mothers can keep their young children at Saint Lazare, or send them away as they choose. In this infirmary shone forth the kindly spirit of my guide. "This always touches me," he said; "for I am a _père de famille_" and he went from baby to baby with gentle looks and womanly sweetness, a man stalwart of frame as a grenadier. And it touched me, too, though I am not _père de famille_, to see the lines of little cribs, and the poor, forlorn mothers tending their tiny waifs and strays.

There is one serious defect in the construction of Saint Lazare, making it in that respect unsuitable for a prison. There is but one large dormitory for the adult prisoners who are in good health. The others sleep, two, three, or even four in a large cell, and with no arrangements for _surveillance_ beyond a small aperture in the door, covered with glass. I remarked upon the imprudence of this arrangement, and was told that the danger was fully appreciated and deeply regretted. The French government is too generous in its treatment of public institutions to leave this evil long unremedied, I am confident.

Another defect in the regulations surprised me. There is no daily Mass in the public chapel of Saint Lazare, the prisoners hearing Mass on Sunday only. I had no opportunity of asking the reason of this omission, and will therefore refrain from making farther comment upon it. The third department in Saint Lazare is the most interesting, being the portion devoted to young girls and homeless children. {781} The sentence is for six months only, but can be renewed if found expedient. My guide called to him child after child, and talked with them as he might talk with his own children at home. One little thing cried bitterly. Her mother had turned her into the streets to shift for herself, and the police, finding her wandering about the city, had brought her to Saint Lazare. He held her little hand in his and patted it softly as he said all the comforting things he could think of; there was not much to be said, one must confess. I asked where she would be sent when the six months were out. "To some industrial establishment under the charge of Sisters of Charity," was the answer; "The empress sees to all such things."

The young people are kept entirely separate from the prisoners, in the new part of Saint Lazare. They have several hours' schooling, and have their working hours, in which they earn money for themselves and for the establishment, as the women do. Each child has an exquisitely neat cell to herself for the night, opening with a grating on to a corridor, so that the watching sister can exercise a strict _surveillance_.

Whenever I see the right thing done in the right way for public offenders, I think of the man who first turned my attention to the subject of prison discipline--Governor Andrew, as he will be to us all in Massachusetts, no matter who holds the state reins. Surely the sun has not often shone on any spirit more steadfast or more tender than his; surely, the days of chivalry produced no knightly courage more unblenching than his; surely, whatever blessings come to Massachusetts in her future career, her children will never forget how valiantly that brave man fought for judicious legislation, for a humane execution of the laws, and for the equal rights of Catholics and Protestants--will never forget John Albion Andrew!

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Translated From Le Correspondant.

A Heroine Of Conjugal Love.

Marquise De La Fayette.

When, at the end of the year 1864, the children of Madame de Montagu, having overcome the natural scruples of filial modesty, consented to open to the public the treasure of noble examples and Christian virtues enclosed in the remembrances of their mother, _Le Correspondant_ was the first among the public organs to announce the lively interest felt in the recital. The success more than justified our predictions. There is no one who would not be edified by the perusal of the life of Madame de Montagu, and the book has already taken its place in our libraries.

{782}

Since that publication, the Duchess of Ayen, around whom are grouped five daughters widely differing from each other, and each with a strongly marked individuality, has become in some sort the type of the Christian mother in modern society.

Indeed, maternal love was in truth the terrestrial passion of her heart, and would entirely have occupied it, had not the care of this dear flock borne with it higher duties, and rendered greater her accountability. The marvellous gift had been given her to form souls; to develop the budding good within them, and, while respecting the originality peculiar to each, to arm them with incomparable strength.

We need not return to what, four years ago, we have already published of the Christian discipline, the simple and retired life to which the Duchess of Ayen had accustomed her daughters, realizing in them her type of true womanhood, making the heart superior to destiny, neither dazzled by fortune or success, nor cast down by the ills of life. When the life of Madame de Montagu was first published, only in episode we recognized those of the noble daughters of the Duchess d'Ayen, reserved by Providence for the rudest trials, or destined for a bloody immolation. We speak of the Viscountess de Noailles, who with her mother and grandmother, the old Marchioness of Noailles, perished on the scaffold, and Madame de La Fayette, the voluntary prisoner of Olmutz, in truth one of the most touching heroines of conjugal love. In the life of their sister they are but secondary figures; but as it is permitted even among the saints of paradise to have a preference, we must confess that, in this beautiful group of heroic figures, our predilection has always been for the two eldest. It will be readily understood, then, with what respect and emotion we have opened the book, in which we would not only find the abridged recital of the actions of Madame de La Fayette, but could see her act, hear her speak herself of her dearly loved mother, listen to the passionate accents of her voice, and, indeed, almost feel the very beatings of her heart.

This volume, printed by Téchener with great typographical care, contains the life of the Duchess of Ayen, written by Madame de La Fayette, in the fortress of Olmutz, on the margin of a Buffon, with a little India-ink and a tooth-pick, and subject to the hateful inspection of the Austrian jailers. We could not find a more touching relic. Nowadays we mount distinguished autographs in gold; should this ever pass into public sale, would it not justify unheard-of extravagances? And we have now this life of Madame de La Fayette compiled by a daughter worthy of her, Madame de Lasteyrie, herself the representative of the virtue and charity of a race of which, according to an expression applied to an eminent royal family, all the daughters were chaste and the sons valiant. And to these two recitals we add another document, that we had the good fortune to publish in April, 1847, in which the good Abbé Carrichon, an ecclesiastic full of zeal, but timid in character, and who only by the grace of the holy ministry could rise to intrepidity, relates, in the most perfect good faith, the anguish he endured, when to his lot it fell to give to the three condemned ones the peace and consolation of last pardon. Those who may be astonished to find in a whole generation of the same family so many and such extraordinary virtues, may rest assured of its truth. Imagination has added nothing to the edifying recital of these beautiful lives. The original documents that we give to-day in their sublime nakedness, bear an accent of austere heroism and holy enthusiasm that strengthens the heart and penetrates it with the love of good; they vouch for our first publication. {783} In the rapid analysis we will try to make from these documents, we will present the most striking traits of the character and life of Madame de La Fayette. Adrienne de Noailles, second daughter of the Duchess of Ayen, was of ardent temperament, of deep sensibility, with a lively imagination and a mind well informed. She ever refused to adopt any idea imposed upon her, that could not be subject to a free discussion. She seized difficulties and penetrated to their depths. While still a child, she was troubled by doubts of her religion, even when, at the age of twelve, she was prepared for her first communion. She does not give us the nature of these doubts, but it is clearly seen they never interfered with the practice of piety; on the contrary, her thirst for truth increased her fervor. Her pious mother was not alarmed at this state of her soul; she divined the source, and waited with confidence for grace to dissipate the clouds. Only, she believed it best to defer the first communion of her daughter until, calm and reassured, she could enjoy her supreme happiness in all its plenitude. And she did not presume too much on the integrity of her daughter; never was more solid piety or firmer faith implanted in a heart of deeper conviction.

If we were to study anew the perfect model of a mother which the Duchess of Ayen presents in the portrait drawn of her by Madame de La Fayette, a portrait depicted, too, with a sincerity that does not fear to let us penetrate the shadows, and so prove its reality, we should dwell upon the profoundly Christian spirit that directed her in the choice of her sons-in-law. We there see her rising above all worldly considerations, seeking above all things in them the moral qualities which may assure the happiness of her daughters; for she did not look upon marriage, as is too often done, as a simple affair of interest, of fortune, or of vanity, but it was, in her eyes, the sacred tie in which love should bear the greater part. God, who united man and woman, and who said, "Man shall leave father and mother, and cleave to his wife, and they two shall be one flesh," has he not made love the duty of Christian marriage? Under the old _régime_ and among the nobility, marriages were contracted early, and Mesdemoiselles de Noailles were scarcely twelve or thirteen years old when the first proposition for their hands were made for them to their mother. One of these candidates, the Marquis de La Fayette, was himself only fourteen years old. "His extreme youth, his isolated position, having lost all his near relations, an immense fortune suddenly acquired, which the Duchesse d'Ayen looked upon only as a temptation," all these considerations, which in a purely worldly view would have seduced many a mother, decided her at first to refuse him, notwithstanding the good opinion she entertained of his character. The Duke d'Ayen strongly insisted on an alliance which combined every advantage of rank and wealth, but the duchess for several months none the less persisted in her refusal; and it was only after a more attentive examination of the character of M. de Lafayette had reassured her of the future of her daughter, that, demanding a delay of two years, she finally gave her consent. The idea of the moment when she must resign her daughters into the keeping of another, filled her with apprehension; evidently, she desired for them a felicity that she had not enjoyed herself, that of entire conformity of tastes, thoughts, and character in the companions of their lives; and when the marriages were resolved upon, it is delightful to read in the recital of Madame de La Fayette the detail of touching cares with which this tender mother charged herself, to prepare these eldest daughters for their new stations--one to espouse the Viscount de Noailles, a cousin whom she had loved since her infancy, and the other to be united to M. de La Fayette.

{784}

"'My heart attracted me to M. de La Fayette,' says with much
simplicity the manuscript of the prisoner of Olmutz, 'and with
a sentiment so profound, that our union has always been one of
firmness and tenderness through all the vicissitudes of this
life--through all the good and evil that have been our lot for
twenty-four years.

"With what pleasure I discovered that, for more than a year, my
mother had looked upon and loved him as her son! She detailed
to me all the good she had known of him--what she thought of
him herself, and I soon saw he possessed for her the filial
charm that made the happiness of my life. She occupied herself
in aiding my poor head, especially about this time so empty and
so weak, to keep from going astray during such an important
event. She taught me to ask, and she asked for me, the
blessings of heaven on the state I was about to embrace.

"'I was then only fourteen and a half years old, and, having
new duties to perform, my mother believed it her duty to
reapply herself to the care of forming my sister and myself for
our future destinies. The confidence with which we always
conversed with her, gave her abundant opportunity. It was not
the kind of confidence to which, I believe, mothers oftener
pretend than obtain from their children--that inspired by a
companion of one's own age--but the perfect and intimate trust
which needs the direction and approval of a parent, and causes
a pang of fear in any step, visit, or conversation, of which
she may not approve. A confidence, in fine, which always
returns to its support--to its guide, in whose light it would
repose as well as in its tenderness; a guide who, if even one
could not always approve its decisions, and might encounter its
reproaches, would still be considered necessary, and to whom
the idea of dissimulation would be insupportable.

"'Such was my feeling toward my mother, who often permitted me
to argue with her.'"

The ceremony of the marriage accomplished, the husband of sixteen years set out for his regiment, and the young bride testified by her grief at this separation all the affection she experienced for him. He returned: the religious education of Madame de La Fayette was completed, she made her first communion with an entire faith and in the most humble dispositions, and soon after, on the 15th of December, 1775, she became a mother for the first time.

The faculty of loving knew no bounds in this youthful heart. Identified in all the tastes, aspirations, sentiments, and interests of him who had given her the right to say, in all sincerity, "I love you religiously, worldly, passionately," she adopted the political faith of her husband, and, without any personal afterthought, without weakness or hesitation, from her most tender age, valiantly accepted all the sacrifices and all the perils of the public life of a man whose political preoccupations governed him exclusively. He held the best part of her heart; but, immovable in her religious faith, Madame de La Fayette never sacrificed a principle nor a practice of piety to her conjugal idolatry. It is remarkable, also, that this ardor of passion for her husband never weakened the vivacity of her tenderness for her mother, her children, and her oldest sister, who, from the cradle, had been her dearest friend.

{785}

Inasmuch as she was sufficient for every duty, so her soul was sufficient in all its affections. The war which broke out about this time between England and her American colonies, opened to the Marquis de La Fayette the brilliant arena that would give immortality to his name; but for his young companion began an existence full, at the same time, of anguish and delirious joy, of grief and devotion. The family of Noailles had strongly adopted philosophical ideas, and willingly followed the liberal views of the eighteenth century. The generous enthusiasm, however, which led M. de La Fayette to devote himself to the service of the American people vindicating their independence, was at first severely disapproved of and considered madness by the Duke d'Ayen and the Marshal de Noailles. The marquis was nineteen; he had been married three years, was already a father, and soon expected a second child. Madame de La Fayette and the Duchess d'Ayen alone understood the motives that determined the departure of M. de La Fayette; the former studied in every way to conceal the torture of her heart, preferring to be considered insensible, or too much of a child, to giving the appearance, by showing her grief, of wrong to the object of her worship.

Meanwhile, the great struggle, of which the new world was the theatre, and in which aristocratic England found herself at war with the principal democracy of modern society, held all Europe in suspense. The greatest interest was felt in France for the success of the Americans. While the French government, though understanding how matters stood, hesitated, nevertheless, to take an open part in the quarrel, public opinion declared itself still more favorably for the United States; the various incidents of the war were greedily sought after, each success of the insurgents excited enthusiasm, and soon all hearts beat in unison with that of Madame de La Fayette, for the success of the young hero who had so actively contributed to such glorious results.

We must transport ourselves to this time, recall its events, watch the fever of public opinion, to understand what must have been, after two years' absence, the first return of M. de La Fayette, and the intoxication of joy his wife experienced. He was not long in setting out again for the new world, and did not return from there finally until 1782, after the brilliant campaign of which his valor assured the success, and which terminated by the surrender of Lord Cornwallis. His return was unexpected, a surprise for the court as well as the city: the _memoirs_ and _memories_ of the Count de Segur furnished curious testimony to support what we have said. We read:

"All who lived in that day will still remember the enthusiasm
occasioned by the return of M. de La Fayette, an enthusiasm of
which the queen herself partook. They were celebrating, at the
Hotel de Ville, a brilliant _fête_ on the occasion of the
birth of an heir to the throne. The news came of the arrival of
the conqueror of Cornwallis. Madame de La Fayette, who assisted
at the _fête_, received a special mark of favor; the queen
placed her in her own carriage, and drove to the Hotel de
Noailles, where the marquis, her husband, had just alighted."
[Footnote 227]

[Footnote 227: Tome i. p. 180.]

The excess of sentiment of Madame de La Fayette for her husband at this time, was such that she suffered intensely in his presence. She endeavored to conceal her passion for him, and trembled lest she might seem importunate, and weary him. Some years after, she confessed to M. de La Fayette this passionate attraction for him which she had so resisted; "but," she added gently, "you need not be dissatisfied with what is left."

{786}

We, who have only known M. de La Fayette soured and old, and do not feel well disposed toward him, because, under the restoration, he shadowed his glory as liberator of two worlds by intrigues with secret societies; we find it difficult to imagine him so charming, "carrying away every heart." But it was even so; and, at the same time that popular favor rendered him so powerful among the multitude, the most beautiful, the proudest, the most brilliant ladies of the court, were madly in love with him.

But we are not writing a biography of M. de La Fayette, and it will be understood that, in an article on the saintly companion of his life, we would not wish any controversy on so illustrious a person, and for whom, with some reservation, we profess great and sincere respect. We will not speak, then, of the events of the revolution, in which he played so prominent a part, only inasmuch as our heroine was mingled with and took part in them.

The abolition of the slave-trade was one of the philanthropic preoccupations of M. de La Fayette. He bought a plantation at Cayenne, _la belle Gabrielle_, in order to give an example of a gradual enfranchisement of the slaves, and referred to the active charity of his wife the details of his enterprise. With this view, she kept up a correspondence with the priests of the seminary _du Saint-Esprit_, who had a house at Cayenne. If circumstances did not permit the realization of her hopes, at least she had the consolation of knowing that, thanks to the religious instruction given to the blacks on this plantation, they were guilty of less horrors than at any other point in the colonies.

We must recognize here, too, and to its eternal honor, that America has always been the portion of the globe where liberty of conscience, loudly proclaimed, has never ceased to be practised. It was not so in old Europe and in France before 1789, so the contrast presented by this free state of things, and the numerous vexations to which the different religions were exposed with us, could not but forcibly strike M. de La Fayette on his return. After a journey to Nimes, where he studied more closely the situation of the Protestants, he was able to present, with full knowledge of the case, a proposition to the Assembly of the Notables in 1787, demanding their restoration to the civil rights of which they had been despoiled.

I love to remember that an eminent Catholic clergyman, Mgr. Luzerne, Bishop of Langres, and later, Cardinal, warmly supported the proposition for this act of justice. Madame de La Fayette shared these sentiments, and received with lively interest the Protestant ministers whom the result of the affair attracted around her husband. A zealous child of the Catholic Church, she detested the persecutions that could only alienate her children, and which appeared to her so opposed to the spirit of Christianity.

After 1783, M. de La Fayette, whose family had increased considerably, and whose political importance had reached its height, left the hotel de Noailles, to establish himself in his own house, _rue de Bourbon_, now the _rue de Lille_. And there the ever-increasing wave of the revolutionary movement, that was never able to overcome the virtue and brightness of a king, the most estimable as a man of any who ever wore a crown, found our heroine. The high position of M. de La Fayette, deputy of the nobility, member of the Constitutional Assembly, and commander-in-chief of the Parisian National Guard, imposed obligations on him in which his wife never repudiated her part. She was seen to accept the successive demands of each of the districts of Paris, to the number of sixty; to preside at the blessing of flags and other patriotic demonstrations. The general kept open house, and did its honors in a manner to charm his numerous guests.

{787}

"'But, says her daughter, Madame de Lasteyrie, initiated into
her most secret thoughts, 'what she suffered in the depths of
her own heart, only those who heard her speak, can tell. She
saw my father at the head of a revolution of which it was
impossible to foretell the end. Every evil, every disorder, was
judged by her with a complete lack of illusion in her own
cause; yet she was so sustained by the principles of her
husband, and so convinced of the good he could do, and the evil
he might avert, that she bore with incredible strength the
continual dangers to which she was exposed. Never, said she to
us, did I see him go out during this time, without thinking
that I heard his last adieu. No one was more terrified than she
by the dangers of those she loved; but in these times, she rose
above herself, and in her devotion to my father, hoped he could
prevent the increasing crime.'"

We may infer from these words the perpetual anguish of Madame de La Fayette during the three first years of the revolution. In the Duchesse d'Ayen she found a support full of sweetness and tenderness; who, though sharing none of the opinions of her son-in-law, believed firmly in the rectitude of his intentions. Her angelic sister, the Viscountess de Noailles, felt exactly as she did, loved equally a husband, young, handsome, brave, and charming, associated in the most advanced ideas of M. de La Fayette, and, like him, a member of the Assembly. The eldest daughter, too, of Madame de La Fayette, began at this time to be of much comfort to her; she had her make her first communion in 1790. It was, in the midst of the great political events of that epoch, the first concern of her maternal heart.

The civil constitution of the clergy was to be one of the most sensible tribulations of Madame de La Fayette. She considered she should, more particularly on account of her personal situation, declare her attachment for the Catholic Church; consequently she was present at the refusal of the oath which the curé of Saint Sulpice made from the pulpit, of whom she was a parishioner; she was constantly meeting there with persons most known by their opposition to the new principles, and with those then called the _aristocratie_. She took part assiduously in the offices, at first in the churches and afterward in the oratories where the persecuted clergy took refuge.

She continually received the nuns who fled to her for protection; or priests not under oath, whom she encouraged in the exercise of their functions, and the preservation of their religious liberty. She well knew that such conduct was hurtful to the popularity of her husband, of great importance to her to preserve, but no consideration could stop her in what she considered a duty.

M. de La Fayette never interfered with the conduct of his wife; he held as nobly to his principles of liberty of conscience in this respect as in all others. Aloud he disapproved of the oath extorted from the Catholic priests, opposed it wherever he could, and was at least successful in preventing the articles relative to this civil constitution of the clergy from being constitutional; on the contrary, they were even rejected from the class of ordinary laws that any new legislature might revise. For General La Fayette deluded himself that the constitution of 1791 was destined to last. But whatever his sentiments, that which made him respect the religious convictions of his wife, and oppose all his power to the persecution of the clergy, does great honor to his character. {788} As the priests under oath were habitually received by the commander of the National Guard at Paris, Madame de La Fayette never dissimulated before them her attachment to the ancient bishops; but she mingled in her expressions so much adroitness with her sincerity that she never wounded them. Only once she deviated from the rule of tolerance that she imposed on herself on her husband's account, and that was when the newly elected constitutional Bishop of Paris, came to dine officially with the general. She would not recognize by her presence the quality of his diocese, and dined out, although she knew by doing so it could not fail to be made a subject of remark.

Meanwhile, the ever-increasing revolutionary delirium multiplied disorders, paralyzed the efforts of the constitutional party, and rendered the part of M. de La Fayette more and more difficult. He was suspected on both sides, by the court and by the Jacobins, and was rapidly wearing out the remains of an expiring popularity in an already useless struggle.

The king, to escape the odious tyranny of which he was the victim, attempted to fly from Paris; we know the rest. Arrested at Varennes, brought back to the Tuileries, he and his family were placed in the closest confinement. The unhappy prince at last resigned himself to accept the constitution, the Constituent Assembly terminated its sittings, and was replaced by the Legislative Assembly, and General La Fayette, sincere in the illusion that the revolution was finished and the future secured, gave in his resignation as commander of the National Guard, and set out for Auvergne with his wife and children. Now in the destiny of Madame de La Fayette there came a short truce of happiness; the journey from Paris to Chavaniac was a series of ovations that popular enthusiasm spread, for the last time, before her idol. The Duchess d' Ayen and the Viscountess de Noailles came a little while to share this apparent and transitory calm; but the Duke d'Ayen had emigrated to Switzerland, and Madame de Montagu had taken refuge in England. The formation of three grand army corps had been decreed, in imminent danger of a foreign war; the command of the centre was confided to General La Fayette, who repaired to his camp in 1791.

The year 1792 saw the hideous journey of the 20th of June, soon after followed by the scenes more lamentable still, of the 10th of August.

At the news of the wicked attempt of the 20th of June, the General de La Fayette did not fear to address to the assembly, from Maubeuge, where were then his head-quarters, a letter in which he declaimed with indignation and vehemence against the Jacobins; and finally, quitting his camp, he hastened to Paris and appeared at the bar of the Assembly; there to brand energetically the violences committed at the Tuileries, and demand the punishment of the guilty. Was not this act of courage alone sufficient honor for a lifetime? But finally, seeing he had nothing to hope from the Assembly, he attempted to organize a resistance at Sedan in order to save Louis XVI. The triumphant Jacobins replied, on the 10th of August, by a decree of proscription to the refusal which M. de La Fayette made to recognize the fall of the king; a price was put upon his head, and, constrained in his turn to seek a refuge in a foreign land, the patriot of 1789 fell on the frontier into an Austrian post, was arrested with his aides-de-camp, conducted first to Namur, then to Wesel, and considered by the allied powers as an _enemy of universal peace_, whose liberty was incompatible with the surety of European governments.

{789}

The arbitrary detention of MM. de La Fayette, Latour Maubourg, and Bureaux de Pusy, remains one of the disgraces of the government of the Emperor Francis II., and he cannot be blamed enough for it; but in the condition of parties and in view of the renown of M. de La Fayette, had it not for him some great advantages? In our eyes, the five years of _carcere duro_ inflicted upon the hero of American liberty, completed his glory. Such were the sentiments of Madame de Staël when she wrote to congratulate him on his release: "Your misfortune has preserved your glory, and if your health can be restored, you will come out perfect from the tomb where your name has acquired a new lustre." But dating from this epoch, what was not the ineffable anguish of Madame de La Fayette? Informed of the arrest of her husband, she had but one thought--to release him or share his captivity. But she had two other duties to fulfil; to get her son out of France, and, if possible, to confide him to the friendship of General Washington, and to protect the interests of the creditors of General La Fayette by giving them the sequestrated estates for security, and in both she experienced great difficulty. Arrested at Chavaniac, where she was resting with her son, aged thirteen, her two daughters, and the aged aunt who had brought up M. de La Fayette, she obtained from Roland, then minister of the interior, permission not to be taken to Paris, but to remain at Chavaniac on parole. Encouraged by this testimony of humanity, and hoping to be delivered from an engagement that weighed so heavily on her, she smothered her natural pride and again addressed herself to Roland:

"'I can only attribute to a sentiment of kindness,' she wrote
him, 'the change you have brought about in my situation. You
spare me the dangers of too perilous a journey, and consent to
give me my retreat for my prison. But any prison, be it what it
may, is insupportable to me, since I have learned this morning
from the gazette of M. Brissot, that my husband has been
transferred from town to town by the enemies of France, and is
being conducted to Spandau. Whatever repugnance I may feel to
owe a service to those who have shown themselves the enemies
and accusers of him whom I revere and love as he only is worthy
of being loved, yet it is in all the sincerity of my heart that
I vow eternal gratitude to him who, while relieving the
administration from responsibility and giving me my freedom,
will afford me the opportunity to rejoin my husband, if France
is sufficiently free to allow me to travel without risk.

"On my knees, if necessary, I ask you this favor. Judge of my
present state of mind. Noailles La Fayette."

A faithful friend bore this letter to Roland. He appeared deeply moved, and replied immediately:

"I have placed your touching appeal, my dear madam, before the
committee. I must observe, however, that it would not appear to
me prudent for a person of your name to travel in France, on
account of the unfortunate impressions just now attached to it.
But circumstances may change. Be assured if they do, I shall be
the first to seize upon them for your advantage."

For three months the poor woman was without any news of the general, though she redoubled every effort to obtain it; she wrote to the Princess of Orange, to the Duke of Brunswick, to Klopstock, but all in vain. Toward the middle of June, there came to her, through the interposition of the United States minister, two letters from M. de La Fayette; they were dated from the dungeon of Magdebourg, and the inquietude they gave her concerning the health of her husband made her more than ever anxious to join him. {790} Governeur Morris, then American minister, proved her constant and faithful friend, and from him she accepted the loan of money of which she had need, to pay some debts and for the daily expenses of her family. At this time many of the wives of emigrants believed it necessary for their personal security, and preservation of their fortunes, to be divorced; Madame de La Fayette would never consent to save her life by such an act, and whenever she found it necessary to present a petition or make a demand, she took a pride in commencing all she wrote, "The wife of La Layette." In the midst of all these terrible agitations, the fervor of our heroine never decreased. She submitted with sweet resignation to the divine will, and associated in her exercises of piety the women of the village, who, like herself, were deprived of the holy sacrifice of the Mass, which was no longer celebrated. These innocent meetings were the subject of many denunciations; of _aristocracy_ they could not accuse her, but now it was _fanaticism_. At the end of the year 1795, after the complete defeat of the Girondins, the persecutions against the priests and the _ci-devant_ nobles were redoubled, and some of the effects of the general were exposed to sale. This courageous wife repaired to Brionde, where the auction took place. "Citizens," said she, to the district, "I feel myself obliged to protest before the sale about to take place, against the enormous injustice of applying the laws of emigration to him who now is the prisoner of the enemies of France. I demand of you certificate of my protestation."

The 12th of November, Madame de La Fayette was informed she would be arrested the next day; and truly she was carried off in the evening by a detachment of the National Guard, and incarcerated at Brionde. Her children remained at Chavaniac, but at the end of a few months the jailer was won over, and M. Frestel, preceptor of the young Georges, conducted them, one after the other, to their mother. ... It was in this prison of Brionde that the news reached her that Mesdames de Noailles and Madame d'Ayen, both arrested, had just been transferred to the Luxembourg; then in May, 1794, came the order to bring the Citoyenne La Fayette to Paris. She entered there the 19th Prairial, eve of the _fête_ of the Supreme Being, three days before the one when, according to Madame de Lasteyrie, "they built up terror upon terror." Placed at _la petite Force_, at the end of fifteen days she was transported to Plessis, where she found her cousin, the Duchess of Duras. The massacres of the revolutionary tribunal at this time were no less than sixty a day; everything seemed to announce to the prisoner that she was being led to certain death.

One of the buildings of Plessis served as a depot to the _Conciergerie_, and each morning saw twenty prisoners depart for the guillotine. "The idea that one may soon be of the number," wrote Madame de La Fayette, "gives firmness for such a spectacle." She made a will at Plessis, of which several passages are given; nothing could be more noble and beautiful. It begins in this way:

"Lord, thou hast been my strength and my hope in the extreme
evils that are poured down upon me; thou art my God."

{791}

Fifty days were thus passed by the prisoner, when on the 10th Thermidor, a great tumult being heard in the street, it was supposed the populace were rushing to massacre all in prison; it was the announcement of the death of Robespierre.

The representatives, Bourdon de l'Oise and Legendre came soon after to visit the prison and assign the fate of each. All were set at liberty except Madame de La Fayette, on whom they were not willing to pronounce sentence until they sent for the decision of the committee. The unhappy woman was but little concerned at the prolongation of her captivity; for she had just learned that her mother, her grandmother, and her sister had perished on the 4th Thermidor. Her grief was overwhelming, but she never revolted, her prayers preserved her. "Now," she wrote to her children, "I find the sentiments of those I mourn, those, too, that I desire, and those that I pray God to put in my heart, and sometimes I obtain all at once." Notwithstanding the active solicitations of Mr. Monroe, the new minister from the United States, Madame de La Fayette was not liberated; Le Piessis was used for other purposes, so she was transferred to the Maison Delmas, rue Notre Dame des Champs; she remained there four months, and met there with the strangest people, for it was now the partisans of the reign of terror who peopled the prisons; but there, as everywhere, she gained the respect of all. Her physical sufferings were great during the rigorous winter of 1794 and 1795. Everything froze in her room, and she was peculiarly sensitive to cold. God granted her in her distress a precious consolation in the visits of the Abbé Carrichon. He gave her all the details she hungered after of the death of the three dear persons that he had accompanied to the scaffold, and with him she made a complete examination of all the faults of her life. On the 23d of January, 1795, the deliverance, so long retarded, of Madame de La Fayette was finally signed, and she was set at liberty.

Her first care on leaving prison was to hasten to Mr. Monroe and thank him for all he had done for her, and begged him to finish the good work by obtaining passports for herself and family. She had but one aim, to rejoin her husband in Germany with her daughters, and place her son in safety in America. The letter she wrote General Washington, in which she portrays with simplicity, firmness, and dignity the obligations she was under to M. Frestel for his devotion to her and her family, and begs for him the regard he deserves, is truly remarkable. As to her son, she expresses herself thus: "My wish is, that my son may lead a very retired life in America, and continue the studies that three years of misfortune have interrupted; and that being far away from scenes which might abase or too strongly irritate him, he may work to become an efficient citizen of the United States, of which the principles and sentiments are entirely in accordance with those of French citizens."

When the time came to part with her only son, the separation seemed cruel to her mother's heart; but she was firmly convinced she acted in this matter as her husband would have dictated. She found her strength in this thought. As we read of so many sacrifices, sufferings, and sorrows so valiantly supported, we find ourselves so associated in the sentiments of this incomparable person, that we wait with feverish anxiety the moment when she should rejoin her husband. The memoirs of Madame de Montagu give us the details of the touching reunion of Madame de La Fayette at Altona with her two sisters and her Aunt de Tessé; they will be found in the account of Madame de Lasteyrie. {792} The conversation with the Emperor of Austria is also there given. He granted her permission to shut herself up at Olmutz, and by opening heaven to her, he could scarcely have made her happier.

"'We arrived,' wrote Madame de Lasteyrie, 'at Olmutz, the 1st
of October, 1795, at eleven o'clock in the morning, in one of
the covered carriages found at all the posts, our own having
been broken on the way. I never shall forget the moment when
the postillion showed us from afar the steeples of the town.
The vivid emotion of my mother is ever present with me. She was
almost suffocated by her tears; and when she had sufficiently
recovered herself to speak, she blessed God in the words of the
canticle of Tobias: "Thou art great, O Lord, for ever, and thy
kingdom is unto all ages, for thou scourgest and thou savest,"
etc., etc. My father was not informed of our arrival; he had
never received a letter from my mother. Three years of
captivity, the last passed in complete solitude, inquietude
concerning all the objects of his affection, and sufferings of
every kind, had deeply undermined his health; the change in his
countenance was frightful. My mother was struck by it; but
nothing could diminish the intoxication of her joy, but the
bitterness of her irreparable losses. My father, after the
first moment of happiness in this sudden reunion, dared not ask
her a question. He knew there had been a reign of terror in
France, but he was ignorant of the victims. The day passed
without his venturing to examine into her fears, and without my
mother having the strength to explain herself. Only at night,
when my sister and I were shut into the next room assigned to
us, could she inform my father that she had lost on the
scaffold her grandmother, her mother, and her sister.'"

Madame de La Fayette shared her husband's captivity twenty-seven months. She paid with her health--we may say with her life--the privilege of being reunited to him she loved, and proving to him her tenderness; but it was such great happiness to her that, whatever the severity that accompanied it, it seems not even at such a price to have been too dearly bought.

At last the success of the French arms opened the dungeon of Olmutz. The French plenipotentiaries, in signing the treaty of Campo Formio, exacted that the prisoners should be immediately set at liberty. The gates of the fortress were therefore opened to them, and the 16th of September, 1797, they set out for Hamburg. It was just five years and a half since their arrest.

Happy to owe his liberty solely to the triumph of the French army, M. de La Fayette addressed to General Bonaparte the expression of his gratitude and that of his companions in arms, in these terms:

"Hamburg, Oct. 6, 1797.
"Citizen General: The prisoners of Olmutz, happy to owe their
deliverance to your irresistible arms, have enjoyed in their
captivity the thought that their liberty and life were attached
to the triumphs of the republic and to your personal glory.
To-day they enjoy the homage they would love to render to their
liberator. It would, indeed, have been gratifying to us,
Citizen General, to have offered in person the expression of
these sentiments, and to have looked upon the theatre of so
many victories, the army that won them, and the hero, who has
placed our resurrection among the number of his miracles. But
you know the journey to Hamburg has not been left to our
choice. It is from the place where we have said good by to our
jailers that we address our thanks to their conquerors. In the
solitary retreat in the Danish territory of Holstein, where we
will go to try and re-establish the health you have saved, we
will join to our vows or patriotism for the republic the most
lively interest in the illustrious general, to whom we are not
only attached for the services he has rendered our country and
in the cause of liberty, but for the particular obligations
that we delight to owe him, and that the deepest gratitude has
for ever engraven in our hearts. Salutation and respect.
"Lafayette,
Latour Maubourg,
Bureaux de Pusy."

{793}

Among all the marks of sympathy showered upon the escaped victims of Austrian tyranny, none touched M. de La Fayette more deeply than one from Madame de Staël--full of respect and emotion. Mathieu de Montmorency added to it a few lines in which these words strike us: "The constant occupation of your misfortunes and your courage has outlived in me, and ever will, my alienation from all political activity; but I believe I should renew all my ancient enthusiasm to welcome one so constant in the cause of liberty."

Although the health of Madame de La Fayette was destroyed, she preserved her wonderful activity and force of character. It was she, the only one of her family, whose name was not on the list of the banished, who was able the first to enter France, and there regulate her affairs and the return of all her relations. It was she again who, after the 18th Brumaire, understood that General La Fayette should return immediately without waiting for any authority that might possibly have been refused him. Sure of the marvellous tact with which she judged her surroundings, he followed her advice without any other information. The news of his arrival in Paris was not pleasing to the first consul; he wanted the general to return to Holland and solicit his entrance, like every one else. Madame de La Fayette called upon him, was graciously received, exposed the peculiar position of her husband, and the favorable effect that his return could not fail to produce on all honest and patriotic men, and proved herself noble, skilful, and prudent. "I am delighted, madame," said the first consul to her, "to have made your acquaintance; you have great good sense, but you understand nothing of business." However, it was agreed to that M. de La Fayette might remain openly in Paris without asking permission. Madame de Lasteyrie, in her recital, in which the most noble sentiments are expressed so simply and happily, has given us a page that portrays the whole soul of her heroic mother.

"Retirement would still have been preferable to my father under
the consular magistracy of Bonaparte; under the despotism of
Napoleon, it was, through honor, enforced upon him. In either
case, it fulfilled the wishes of my mother. After so much
suffering and exhaustion, a retired life--perfect quietude
would not have been necessary for her--in which in peace she
could consecrate the affections of her soul to those dearest to
her, was the only earthly happiness she sought. She felt too
deeply, too passionately, I may say, the emotions of family
life to desire others. Neither the grandeur of her former
state, nor the _éclat_ even of her misfortunes, had
excited in her that pride of imagination which cannot bear a
simple existence. Her devotion rose above every trial, but the
sentiments and easy duties of an obscure destiny sufficed for
her heart. Love filled it entirely."

What can we add to this picture? Nothing, only to ask the perusal of the admirable letter of M. de La Fayette, which ends the volume. He there relates the long agony, the tender and charming delirium of the heavenly creature whose affections he possessed. To have seen him a practical Christian would have been the realization of her most cherished wish. "If I am going to another home, you must feel," she said to him once, "that I shall be occupied there with you. The sacrifice of my life would be very little, however much it may cost me to part with you, if it could assure your eternal happiness."

Another time, she said to him: "You are not a Christian?" As he did not reply, she said: "Ah! I know what you are, a fatalist." "You believe me proud," answered the general, "are you not a little so yourself?" "Oh! yes!" she cried, "with all my heart. I feel that I would give my life for that sect." {794} Another time, in this half delirium which led astray her ideas, but never her heart, she said: "This life is short, troubled; let us be reunited in God, and set out together for eternity." Her God and her husband were her thoughts to the last moment. She died on Christmas night, the 25th of December, 1807, pressing the cherished hand and saying, "I am yours for ever."

Those who wish to finish this picture of conjugal love, must do as we have done, seek in the memoirs of an illustrious contemporary the scene that completes it. In the _Memoires de M. Guizot_, in the year 1834, we read:

"Some months before M. de Talleyrand had retired from public
affairs, another celebrated man, very different in character,
and celebrated in other ways, had disappeared from all worldly
scenes. No life had been more exclusively, more passionately
political than that of M. de La Fayette; no man had more
constantly placed his political sentiments and ideas above all
other preoccupations and all other interests, and yet in his
death he was completely estranged from them. Having been ill
for three weeks, he approached his last hour; his children and
family alone surrounded his bed. He spoke no more, and they
supposed he could not see. His son George noticed that, with an
uncertain hand, he sought something on his breast; he came to
the assistance of his father and laid in his hand the medallion
that M. de La Fayette always wore suspended from his neck. He
pressed it to his lips, and expired."

This medallion contained the likeness and hair of Madame de La Fayette, his wife whom he had lost twenty-seven years before. Thus, already separated from the entire world, alone with the thought and image of the devoted companion of his life, he died. When his obsequies were spoken of, it was a recognized fact in the family, that M. de La Fayette wished to be buried in the little cemetery adjoining the convent of Picpus, by the side of Madame de La Fayette, in the midst of the victims of the revolution, for the most part, royalists, and of the aristocracy, whose relations had founded this pious establishment. This wish of the veteran of 1789 was scrupulously respected and carried out. An immense crowd, troops, national guards, people of all kinds accompanied the funeral procession through the avenues and streets of Paris. Arrived at the gate of the convent, the crowd was stopped; the interior enclosure could not admit more than two or three hundred persons; the family, the near relations, the principal authorities entered alone, walked silently through the convent into the modest garden, then penetrated the cemetery. There no political manifestation took place; no discourse was pronounced; religion and the intimate memories of the soul alone were present; politics had no place near the death-bed or the tomb of the man whose life it had filled and governed.

Léon Arbaud.

-------------

{795}

Translated From The Revue Du Monde Catholique.

Flaminia.

By Alexandre De Bar.

"So you really believe that the soul lives for ever?" said the Baron Frederic.

"Certainly I do," answered the Count Shrann.

"That is very strange," replied the first speaker, emptying at a single draught a tankard of beer whose size a German could alone look at without trembling.

"And you believe that those whom we have loved in this world we shall again love in the next, and they will remember us even as we shall remember them?"