FRANK, and
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 THE STORY OF TWO REVOLUTIONS 
 
 BY 
 FRANK AND CORTELLE HUTCHINS 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1921
 
 Copyright, 1921, by 
 THE CENTURY Co. 
 
 Printed in U. S. A.
 
 TO A LOVED LITTLE OLD LADY 
 
 CAROLINE FULLER JONES 
 OUR MOTHER AND "MOTHER" 
 
 THIS BOOK IS 
 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

 
 FOREWORD 
 
 THIS book has been written to be inter- 
 esting: if it proves to be so, its lesser 
 purpose will have succeeded. It has been 
 written to be historically accurate: if it 
 proves not to be so, its greater purpose 
 will have failed. 
 
 THE AUTHORS
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAG* 
 
 I AN OLD ENVOY FROM A YOUNG NATION . . 3 
 
 II FRENCH NOBLE AND ENGLISH KING .... 18 
 
 III LAFAYETTE GOES TO AMERICA 28 
 
 IV THE WOUNDED BOY FROM FRANCE .... 41 
 V THE SWORD MEDALLION, "GLOUCESTER" . . 52 
 
 VI THE BIRTH OF AMERICAN DIPLOMACY ... 59 
 
 VII THE DAYS OF VALLEY FORGE 69 
 
 VIII THE SWORD MEDALLION, "BARREN HILL" . . 78 
 
 IX THE SWORD MEDALLION, "MONMOUTH" . . 86 
 
 X THE SWORD MEDALLION, "RHODE ISLAND" . 92 
 
 XI A FRENCH-AMERICAN OFFICER ON FURLOUGH 99 
 
 XII AMERICA'S PART OF SWORD OF LIBERTY . . 108 
 
 XIII AMERICA'S FRIEND AT COURT 115 
 
 XIV DAYS OF WAITING 127 
 
 XV MORE HELP FROM FRANCE 136 
 
 XVI FRANCE AND AMERICA TALK IT OVER . . . 148 
 
 XVII A NIGHT OF TREASON 156 
 
 XVIII SAVING AMERICA'S GIBRALTAR 165 
 
 XIX FIGHTING IN THE CAROUNAS 176 
 
 XX RETREATING TO VICTORY 189 
 
 XXI THE FINAL VENTURE 203
 
 x CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 XXII YORKTOWN 214 
 
 XXIII PEACE BETWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA . . 224 
 
 XXIV A CRUMBLING THRONE 233 
 
 XXV THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 245 
 
 XXVI THE END OF THE FEUDAL SYSTEM .... 258 
 
 XXVII THE MOB AND THE KING 266 
 
 XXVIII FRANCE'S PART OF SWORD OF LIBERTY . . . 277 
 
 XXIX STORMING THE TUILERIES ...... 291 
 
 XXX THE REIGN OF TERROR 305 
 
 XXXI END OF THE REVOLUTION 319 
 
 XXXII SWORD OF LIBERTY 332
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Marquis De La Fayette Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PACE 
 
 Benjamin Franklin 20 
 
 Old State House, Philadelphia 38 
 
 George Washington 56 
 
 The British Surrendering their Arms to General Wash- 
 ington after their Surrender at Yorktown, Virginia . 220 
 
 Siege of the Bastille 256 
 
 The Storming of the Tuileries 300 
 
 The Temple 324
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY
 
 Somewhere in France there is a strange and 
 magnificent sword. 
 
 Once,, care fully guarded, it was brought to 
 this country and exhibited at the World's Co- 
 lumbian Exposition. The engraved gold hilt 
 and the finely etched blade tell, most oddly 
 blended, J the stories of the two great struggles 
 of the modern world for freedom. 
 
 Sword of the American Revolution Sword 
 of the French Revolution SWORD OF 
 LIBERTY!
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AN OLD ENVOY FROM A YOUNG NATION 
 
 IT was a late-October day in the year 1776. An 
 old man and two boys were driving quietly, per- 
 haps almost stealthily, out of a town that lay along 
 a wide brown river. An odd-looking town it was, 
 and in a land that the world did not know much 
 about, a land that was just struggling out of its 
 colonial swaddling-clothes, and trying hard to be a 
 nation, the United States of America. 
 
 Leaving the town Philadelphia, it was called 
 the travelers turned into the King's Highway, lead- 
 ing down along the Delaware River. The old man 
 was large and a little round-shouldered. He had 
 a placid, rather grandmotherly face, but the pro- 
 jecting chin and something in the quiet, steady eyes 
 gave hint enough of virile force. He was plainly 
 dressed in dark wide-skirted coat and knee-breeches. 
 A fur cap came low over his thin gray hair, seem- 
 ing almost to rest upon his big round spectacles. 
 Anybody in Philadelphia, where he lived, and many 
 folks far beyond, could have pointed out this quaint 
 
 3
 
 4 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 figure as one of the most prominent men of the 
 country, Benjamin Franklin. 
 
 The two boys were grandsons of Franklin. They 
 were almost miniatures of him in point of dress, 
 and, with their prominent little chins, looked some- 
 what like him. One was Benjamin Bache, a child of 
 seven. The other was William Temple Franklin, 
 about fifteen years old. This lad, usually called 
 Temple, was to have a most unusual part, for a boy, 
 in the stirring events toward which the three were 
 now journeying. If there was anything of stealth 
 about these travelers, it was not without reason. 
 Peaceful as everything may have seemed all about 
 them as they jogged along the old post-road, the 
 times were troublous enough, and they were start- 
 ing upon a perilous undertaking. 
 
 For over a year the American people had been 
 engaged in conflict with Great Britain, at first to 
 secure their rights as Englishmen, but since the 
 memorable Fourth of July of this year to secure 
 their independence. The war, which had started 
 out with such spirit and fervor at Concord and 
 Lexington and Bunker Hill, had settled down to a 
 grim and not very hopeful struggle. It was evi- 
 dent that help must be had or the cause would be 
 lost. Indeed, for some time the colonies had had 
 an agent, Silas Deane, in France doing what he 
 could to get sympathy and support there. Lately 
 the Continental Congress had determined to have a
 
 AN OLD ENVOY 5 
 
 body of three commissioners in that country, and 
 had appointed as such Benjamin Franklin, then in 
 Philadelphia, Silas Deane, already in Paris, and 
 Arthur Lee, at the time in London. 
 
 So now Dr. Franklin and his grandsons were on 
 their way to a little settlement about twenty miles 
 down the Delaware, called Marcus Hook, where a 
 swift war vessel of the colonies was waiting to 
 carry them to France. And danger lurked in every 
 league of the way. Franklin was naturally the 
 head and front of the new commission, because of 
 his great reputation, and because he was especially 
 well and favorably known in France from two visits 
 he had made there. Glad would the British have 
 been to capture this important envoy and to thwart 
 his mission to the French court. Franklin well knew 
 that his capture would mean at least long imprison- 
 ment, more likely death. 
 
 But, putting out of mind all anxious thoughts, 
 as the philosophic old Doctor had a way of doing, 
 there was much to interest man and boys along 
 the King's Highway. The warm reds of Phila- 
 delphia's homes and the spire of Christ's Church 
 faded in the background, as the mile-stones along 
 the way bobbed up and spoke and fell behind. A 
 bend and a swing of the road over closer to the 
 river, and then the travelers were driving between 
 the little hipped-roofed homes of Old Chester, 
 where the sign of that famous inn "The Pennsyl-
 
 6 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 vania Arms" swung in the wind just across the 
 street from the steepled court-house. Here the 
 Franklin party ended their travel for that day, and 
 "nighted."- 
 
 Next morning they were on their way again, the 
 road now running much closer to the Delaware. 
 They felt the freshening wind and caught the glint 
 of tacking sails. A sharp turn toward the river, 
 and they entered the little village of Marcus Hook. 
 The place had a double interest for the boys. It 
 was not only the port from which they were to 
 sail, but it was also a famous old-time resort of 
 pirates. Folks still living there that day had 
 seen the doughty Blackbeard and his crew swag- 
 gering in the streets and inns. The pirates had 
 made one street so much a scene of their drunken 
 brawls that it had been called Discord Lane. Likely 
 as not it was along Discord Lane that the Franklins 
 now drove into the village, their eyes sweeping 
 the shipping on the wide river for a glimpse of the 
 war vessel that was to carry them to France. There 
 she lay out beyond the long piers of Marcus Hook, 
 the Reprisal, one of the swiftest vessels of what 
 Congress now called the United States Navy. 
 
 The Franklins lost no time in getting aboard, 
 though the old Doctor had no longer the athletic 
 nimbleness of his earlier years, and his was a 
 rather corpulent body to carry over the ship's side. 
 Now this important envoy was in as safe hands
 
 AN OLD ENVOY 7 
 
 as possible; for the commander of the Reprisal, 
 Captain Lambert Wickes, was one of the best of- 
 ficers in the navy. The captain, and the officers 
 under him too, were rather brilliant figures as they 
 stood there on the quarter-deck of the little "rebel" 
 war-ship. At first our naval officers wore almost 
 anything they happened to pick up. That would not 
 do, and now for some time the order of Congress 
 had been out prescribing regulation American uni- 
 forms. So behold our captain resplendent in blue 
 coat with red lapels and yellow buttons, blue 
 breeches, and a red waistcoat trimmed with lace. 
 The subordinate officers added half a dozen more 
 shades to the color scheme. 
 
 It was on the morning of October 27 that the 
 Reprisal got under way. Piercing notes of the 
 boatswain's silver pipe, topmen running aloft, deck- 
 men at ropes and capstan, haul and strain of hem- 
 pen cable, flap and swell of spreading sail ; and then 
 the swing and the list of the little ship as she an- 
 swered to the pulse of the wind and the call of the 
 sea. Now the scientific Franklin, who had always 
 a leaning toward a seafaring life, gave a sharp 
 eye to the sort of vessel he was on. She was a 
 sloop of war, not much of a fighting-ship, car- 
 rying only sixteen six-pound guns; but the boys 
 came across plenty of muskets, sabers, and boarding- 
 pikes. 
 
 The Reprisal made a good run of the Delaware,
 
 8 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 tacking between pleasant wooded shores that showed 
 in those days but little mark of man's reshaping. 
 At the end of the third day she was approaching the 
 opening between the capes, the gateway to the ocean. 
 The critical moment had come. Just outside the bay 
 was a favorite cruising-ground of the British war- 
 ships. To run the gantlet of those menacing craft 
 would be the most hazardous part of the whole voy- 
 age. It was in the darkness of the night of Oc- 
 tober 29 that the little ship slipped out between the 
 capes. There were no lights on her, nor a sound 
 aboard, save the guarded voice of the leadsman, 
 the muffled word of command, the creaking strain 
 of spar and cordage. But taut was every sail she 
 could carry, and tense every soul on board. Luck 
 still held with the Reprisal. Out of the gloom came 
 no challenging voice, no warning shot across her 
 bows. On in ghostly silence she ran through the 
 night; and by the time daybreak robbed her of the 
 friendly darkness, she was past the worst of the 
 cruiser-infested waters. Still, to the end, menace 
 would lie in every sighted sail. 
 
 The November gales soon struck the voyagers, 
 and they had much tempestuous weather. Franklin 
 escaped seasickness, because he never was subject 
 to that, but he was far from well during most of 
 the voyage. But no illness could thwart his pas- 
 sion for scientific pursuits. Just now the "gulph" 
 stream and other ocean currents held his interest,
 
 AN OLD ENVOY 9 
 
 and every day the temperature of the sea and of the 
 air had to be religiously taken and recorded. 
 
 It was well that other folks aboard the Reprisal 
 were not so absorbed in scientific pursuits. Some- 
 body had to look out for English cruisers. Many 
 times the ceaseless eye-sweep of the ocean detected 
 such craft; and more than once the issue of their 
 chase was doubtful. Then came the preparation 
 for engagement. And there was thrill in that 
 moment for an old man as well as for two boys. 
 The roll of drums sounding over the sloop, beating 
 the crew to quarters; the quick manning of the 
 guns; the officers' keen inspection along the lines, 
 now a word of command, now a sharp glance at 
 primer and breeching. Then the stern, silent wait- 
 ing. And what must have been the white-haired 
 Franklin's thoughts in that ominous waiting! On- 
 coming, under billowing canvas, and swiftly cleav- 
 ing the sea, a formidable enemy cruiser; beneath 
 him a poorly armed sloop; and clearly imaged to 
 the steady old eyes, an English scaffold and a halter ! 
 But the plucky little Reprisal would not permit that. 
 Sooner or later she would manoeuver to get the wind 
 to her liking, and then gradually her pursuer would 
 fade and lessen and sink over the rim of the ocean. 
 
 One morning toward the end of the voyage, Cap- 
 tain Wickes himself determined to try to take a 
 prize. He was successful. About noon a British 
 brig struck her colors and surrendered. That was
 
 io SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 a bigger event than it appears. The capture of that 
 brig was very much more than mere prize-taking. 
 It was America's first blow struck on the other side 
 of the ocean. It was carrying the war across the 
 Atlantic ! 
 
 In all this commotion on the Reprisal, the philoso- 
 phic Franklin never forgot his thermometer. Noon- 
 day was the time for taking the temperature of the 
 sea, and no mere prize-taking happening at the same 
 time was to interfere with it. Just as usual the ther- 
 mometer went over the ship's side, and calmly the 
 record was entered that at noon on November 27, 
 1776, the temperature of the sea was fifty-eight 
 degrees Fahrenheit. 
 
 But the Reprisal was not done with her prize- 
 taking. Along in the afternoon of the same day 
 she overhauled another British brig, and captured 
 her with a valuable cargo of flaxseed and brandy. 
 So evening found the little American war-ship again 
 on her way, proudly convoying two prizes. She 
 soon sighted the French coast, and came to anchor 
 on November 29 in Quiberon Bay. Contrary winds 
 preventing the Reprisal from making the port of 
 Nantes, Captain Wickes procured a fishing-boat 
 on December 3 to put the Franklins ashore at a 
 little village called Auray. Sailing through an open- 
 ing in the coast-line and following the picturesque 
 windings of a stream for about three miles, they 
 came to the village at which they were to land.
 
 AN OLD ENVOY II 
 
 Auray lay close to the river, broken, irregular 
 rocks along the water-front, and a lofty hill frown- 
 ing behind. 
 
 The Breton craft was brought to shore, and then 
 was presented a strange spectacle, Benjamin Frank- 
 lin, American envoy to the King of France, landing 
 from a dirty fishing-boat, at a poor little village, 
 unheralded and unknown, in the cold and dark of 
 a winter night. 
 
 There was no post-chaise to be had at Auray, 
 and it was necessary to send about ten miles down 
 the coast to Vannes for a carriage. It was a miser- 
 able conveyance that arrived, but at last the long 
 journey to the French capital was begun. The 
 route was to be by way of Nantes, where the bag- 
 gage would be left from the ship. As the weakened 
 Franklin traveled slowly, often resting at inns along 
 the way, it was not until December 7 that his car- 
 riage drove into Nantes, a bustling city for those 
 days, and one attractively picturesque. Spread out 
 over islands lying between the six arms of the river 
 Loire, the town was tied together by stone bridges, 
 beneath which sailed up and down the little Breton 
 boats. 
 
 Into this scene, still driving quietly on, still un- 
 announced and with none to welcome, came the most 
 famous man of America, one of the most widely 
 and favorably known men of the world. But here 
 was to come the awakening. Now France was to
 
 12 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 learn that the great Franklin was upon her soil. 
 Now was to begin an ovation that was to last 
 through all the years of his stay. The old Doctor 
 had acquaintances in Nantes, men he had known 
 in previous visits to France. Soon he was in the 
 hands of his friends, and an elaborate entertain- 
 ment was prepared for him. The news of his ar- 
 rival was caught up from mouth to mouth until 
 the whole city was in a ferment. 
 
 Here we have a peculiar situation. How did the 
 mere coming of one old man, even so prominent a 
 man as Franklin, produce such a sensation ? Largely 
 as the answer lies in the old man himself, it lies 
 more largely in the nation he had come to visit. 
 
 It was a strange France, that France of 1776. 
 On the surface it was a stable and magnificent mon- 
 archy; beneath, it was honeycombed and under- 
 mined. But nobody saw beneath, and nobody saw 
 what was coming. France was, herself, upon the 
 eve of revolution, and did not know it. For ages 
 there had been building upon a crushed people a 
 splendid autocracy, the most splendid in Europe. 
 Never again will the world look upon anything so 
 brilliant as that court of Versailles! 
 
 But now, down below, the patient burdened folk 
 of France were straightening their bowed backs, 
 and, all unknown to themselves, were preparing to 
 step from under. Strangely, among the higher 
 classes too, the age-long order was breaking. From
 
 AN OLD ENVOY 13 
 
 somewhere vague ideas of a freer life were creep- 
 ing in. Unheard of words "liberty," "equality," 
 were upon every tongue. Nobody knew just what 
 they meant, but that mattered little. Their sound 
 was alluring. So alluring, indeed, that the very 
 aristocrats, the scions of nobility, could not resist 
 them. 
 
 "Liberty! Liberty!" cried the common people, 
 not knowing that soon in that name they were to 
 commit the foulest crimes. "Liberty! Liberty!" re- 
 sponded the nobility, not knowing that soon in that 
 name they were to be dragged to the guillotine. 
 Even the throne was touched by the infection. At 
 last there reigned a king who would, if he could, 
 have done something for his people. But the hour 
 was too late, and the hand was too weak. All that 
 young Louis XVI could do was to show sympathy 
 with the spirit of the people, and to echo faintly, 
 "Liberty!" And he too knew not what he voiced, 
 iand that in that name he and his young queen, 
 Marie Antoinette, should one day perish. 
 
 Now to such a nation, vaguely wakening to a 
 vision of freedom, suddenly came Benjamin Frank- 
 lin, the recognized incarnation of freedom, the rep- 
 resentative of a brave young land across the sea that 
 even then was waging a desperate struggle for 
 liberty. Was it surprising that the great heart of 
 France went out to him? 
 
 After a short rest at Nantes, the Franklins went
 
 14 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 on their way to Paris. For days they journeyed 
 on past quaint villages, ancient Roman towers, 
 Gothic cathedrals, and the stately country-seats of 
 French nobility. The last day of this long drive 
 was Friday, December 20. The improved condi- 
 tion of the country, the more perfectly kept high- 
 way, the increase of travel, all indicated to Franklin 
 that they were approaching the royal suburb of 
 Paris, Versailles. Some time before mid-afternoon 
 they emerged from a woodland, and there ahead, 
 upon a wide plateau, loomed the great white palace 
 of the French king. It flashed upon the wondering 
 sight of the boys like an enchanted castle. But 
 for Franklin it had sterner significance. Within 
 those marble walls, gleaming in the western sun, 
 lay the fate of American independence. 
 
 Approaching from the west, the travelers saw 
 little of the town of Versailles, as that lay upon 
 the other side of the palace. Upon this side were 
 the royal parks and gardens, which, even if open 
 to criticism from an artistic standpoint, were the 
 most beautiful thing of the kind in the world. When 
 the Franklins had passed the terrace, where the 
 colossal "Hundred Steps" flanked the orangery, and 
 where lords and ladies sauntered in the sunshine, 
 they drove on past the southern wing of the palace 
 and found themselves in the town of Versailles. A 
 strange town, its every feature dwarfed by the 
 great palace that sat upon its eminence as upon a
 
 AN OLD ENVOY 15 
 
 throne. But a town of brilliant life, always staged 
 for pomp and pleasure. 
 
 It was all a familiar story to Franklin, who even 
 had been presented at the French court. But the 
 travel-worn old man needed rest, and he determined 
 to stop at Versailles until the next day. His choice 
 of an inn gave the boys a peep at the most ani- 
 mated part of the town. They turned into a vast, 
 bustling plaza, called the Place d'Armes. From it 
 three roads branched fan-wise, the central one the 
 main highway to Paris. Here in those days went 
 endless conflicting streams of vehicles. Long 
 wicker stages, each with several horses; high En- 
 glish gigs of the new fashion; crude carts of com- 
 mon folks; little glass-enclosed carriages known as 
 caliches, with court beauties in their velvet depths; 
 and, cutting recklessly through all, the gilded chariots 
 of the princes, drawn by six horses at full gallop. 
 
 Safely through this moving maze of the Place 
 d'Armes we see the Franklins enter the Rue Dau- 
 phin, drive down it a little way to a pretty park, 
 and there draw up at Number Eight, the inn called 
 La Belle Image. That night as the old man looked 
 from his windows out over Versailles alight, it was 
 with no divination of the future to tell him to look 
 to the westward. And yet in that direction, within 
 a square or two, stood the Hotel de Noailles, the 
 court home of a French nobleman who was to do
 
 16 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 as much as Franklin himself for American inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 The Hotel de Noailles was one of the mansions of 
 a most ancient and noble family of France. In 
 keeping with the custom of the times, it was a 
 sort of patriarchal home, richly conducted upon a 
 vast scale, and housing at once members of two or 
 three generations. When the fourteen-year-old 
 daughter of the house, Adrienne, had married a 
 tall young nobleman with hazel eyes, red hair, and 
 great wealth, scarcely older than herself, the boy- 
 and-girl couple made their Versailles home in this 
 family mansion overlooking the palace gardens. The 
 young husband was the Marquis de Lafayette, al- 
 ready filled with that enthusiasm for liberty that 
 was to carry him across the sea to fight for America. 
 
 Some months earlier, as an officer in the French 
 Army, Lafayette had been stationed in the old town 
 of Metz. There he had attended a dinner given 
 in honor of the English Duke of Gloucester, then 
 traveling in France. Listening to the duke's story 
 of the American war, the boy noble had given his 
 heart to the cause of the struggling colonists. Be- 
 fore he left the table he was planning to go to Amer- 
 ica to help them. But there was a difficulty. He 
 knew that if his father-in-law, the powerful Due 
 d'Ayen, should suspect his design, he would op- 
 pose it, and would even secure King Louis's inter- 
 dict
 
 AN OLD ENVOY 17 
 
 So Lafayette had determined to keep his project 
 secret from all but those who had to know, secret 
 from his king, and even from his family. His first 
 step had been to go to Paris to consult with the 
 agent of the United States, Silas Deane. And, even 
 through an interpreter, he had impressed Deane so 
 favorably that he had obtained a commission as 
 major-general in the American Army. And now, 
 from that time to this night of Franklin's coming 
 to Versailles, the young noble had vainly sought 
 to get to America. 
 
 The next day Silas Deane arrived at Versailles 
 to meet Doctor Franklin. He was about fifty years 
 old, and of rather distinguished appearance. Though 
 a man of ability, he was unable to handle the com- 
 plicated situation in France, and he was overjoyed 
 at sight of the competent old Doctor. 
 
 Now the little party of Americans set out on 
 their twelve-mile drive to the capital city. The road 
 was excellent, broad, well paved, and lined on each 
 side with beautiful trees. It soon came to the river 
 Seine, followed for a while the windings of the 
 stream, then, passing through the city gate, entered 
 Paris. Franklin's long journey was over.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 FRENCH NOBLE AND ENGLISH KING 
 
 OUITE different from the Paris of to-day was 
 the city that the American envoys entered that 
 Saturday, December 21, 1776. Though even then 
 a place of nearly a million inhabitants, with many 
 fine buildings and some that were palaces, it had 
 not on the whole an attractive appearance. Among 
 its worst features were the narrow, dirty streets, 
 with open gutters in the middle, and without side- 
 walks. The houses were high and narrow, of hewn 
 stone. Most of them were weather-stained and 
 dilapidated, but the newer ones white and beautiful. 
 The streets were crowded with tangled traffic; and 
 here, there, and everywhere went swarms of pedes- 
 trians. Had the envoys run over some of them, 
 little notice would have been taken; street accidents 
 were an accepted feature of Paris life. A city of 
 hubbub : ceaseless screaming of water-carriers, ven- 
 ders of vegetables, milk, fruit, and what not; fren- 
 zied shouts of drivers; clangor of church and 
 convent bells that were never still. 
 
 Deane had secured lodgings for Franklin and his 
 18
 
 FRENCH NOBLE AND ENGLISH KING 19 
 
 grandsons at the hotel where he himself lived. 
 This carried them to the Latin Quarter, where they 
 drew up almost across the Seine from the Tuileries, 
 at the Hotel de Hambourg. Next day a rather tall, 
 good-looking blue-eyed man made his appearance 
 in the French capital, Mr. Arthur Lee, the third 
 American envoy, just arrived from London. Here 
 was a singular character. Probably both able and 
 patriotic, he was yet narrow and malignant, and 
 bound to be a thorn in Franklin's side for many a 
 day to come. 
 
 As it became known that the great Franklin was 
 in Paris, the city went wild with enthusiasm. His 
 old friends flew to greet him; enthusiasts for the 
 rights of man rallied about the famous signer of 
 the Declaration of Independence; aristocrats and 
 nobles rose to do him honor, and, more than all, 
 the downtrodden common people, looking upon this 
 white-haired American patriot as the breaker of 
 shackles, thronged about his hotel and filled the 
 streets with applause. 
 
 Now that the United States envoys were all to- 
 gether, they promptly took up the situation in 
 France. Louis XVI had liberal ideas as to human 
 rights, and shared in the sympathy his country felt 
 for the cause of liberty in America. Besides, he 
 and his ministers were not blind to the fact that 
 the colonists were fighting the hereditary enemies 
 of the French. Assistance extended to them would
 
 20 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 be a blow against a hated nation. But at the same 
 time France was not prepared to risk any steps that 
 might lead to war with Great Britain. Under these 
 conflicting considerations the French Government 
 had adopted a tentative policy of aiding the Ameri- 
 cans in such ways and at such times as it could, 
 secretly. According to this policy the Minister for 
 Foreign Affairs, the Comte de Vergennes, was now 
 acting; and it was requiring all his consummate 
 finesse to maintain an appearance of French neu- 
 trality. The assistance thus being given to the 
 Americans was considerable, but not enough. The 
 envoys knew that every effort must be made to get 
 more help, and indeed to secure the open alliance 
 of France with America. 
 
 On the day after Lee's arrival, Franklin drew up 
 their first official communication to the French Gov- 
 ernment, including a request for an audience. The 
 conveyance of the papers was entrusted to Temple, 
 who now became secretary to his grandfather. And 
 the boy's first mission turned out well. He was to 
 go to M. Conrad Alexander Gerard, secretary to the 
 Comte de Vergennes. Gerard was out of town. 
 But the lad had no idea of allowing the business 
 of the United States of America to be delayed 
 by that. Buoyed up by a bursting sense of impor- 
 tance and brand-new Parisian clothes and wig, 
 he proceeded to the great Vergennes himself. We 
 can see the slender young figure moving away a
 
 fl 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 
 
 From a portrait by iHiplessis
 
 FRENCH NOBLE AND ENGLISH KING 21 
 
 little perplexedly from the Foreign Office, along 
 the Rue de la Surintendance, and at length stand- 
 ing before the imposing gates of the royal palace. 
 There he must needs negotiate his way past the 
 guards, across to the great south wing, and into 
 the presence of the august minister of His Majesty, 
 Louis XVI. 
 
 Not a presence to be lightly entered, that of the 
 veteran French statesman, the Comte de Vergennes, 
 a dignified, cold, calculating man with a manner 
 gravely, chillingly polite. But it was in a very 
 friendly way, likely with some amusement, that he 
 received the youthful American diplomat. As this 
 minister was unfamiliar with English, he appre- 
 ciated Temple's ability to speak French. The an- 
 swer that the boy brought to Paris was that Ver- 
 gennes would receive the American envoys upon 
 December 28. 
 
 The Americans were received with great respect, 
 but the meeting was a disappointment. Even the 
 astute Franklin could not alter French policy. Still, 
 shortly after the interview, came, in the old secret 
 way, two million francs, without interest, to be 
 repaid when the United States should be settled in 
 peace and prosperity. 
 
 Scant and depressing enough was the news these 
 days from over the seas. Through English reports 
 the envoys learned that the colonists had met de- 
 feats shortly after Franklin sailed from Marcus
 
 22 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Hook, and Washington had been forced to retreat 
 straight toward the little capital, Philadelphia. The 
 English gazettes were jubilant, exasperating. It 
 seemed that the cause of liberty was failing. As a 
 matter of fact there was another side to the story. 
 But France and Franklin did not know then how 
 Washington had turned, carried his army through 
 floating ice across the Delaware, and struck back 
 successfully at Trenton and at Princeton. France 
 and Franklin knew only of defeat and retreat. But 
 the brave smile of Franklin never failed. "a ira," 
 he would say; or, as we should put it, "It will be 
 all right in the end." And "a ira" went the round 
 of Paris. And America's friends took heart again. 
 
 In their own troubles, the envoys did not forget 
 Lafayette, and the efforts he was making to go to 
 the aid of the colonists. After the unfavorable 
 news from America they advised him to give up 
 his chivalrous project. But Lafayette had no idea 
 of abandoning the cause of liberty because its state 
 was desperate. "Until now," he replied, "you have 
 seen only my ardor in your cause, and that may 
 not prove wholly useless. I shall purchase a ship. 
 It is especially in the hour of danger that I wish 
 to share your fortune." At once the marquis set 
 out upon his new plan, and for some time the Ameri- 
 cans knew little of his movements. 
 
 One of the first persons of importance that Frank- 
 lin met after arriving in Paris was a large-faced
 
 FRENCH NOBLE AND ENGLISH KING 23 
 
 Frenchman, with a wide good-natured mouth, and 
 an evident immediate liking for the Doctor. This 
 was M. Donatien le Ray de Chaumont, a man of 
 wealth and of marked devotion to the American 
 cause. He had recently purchased a handsome 
 home, the Hotel de Valentinois, in a suburb of Paris 
 called Passy. There was a large and independent 
 portion of it, furnished but unoccupied, and this 
 he now offered to Franklin. The matter of rent 
 was waived. Time enough to talk of that when 
 American freedom was won. 
 
 M. de Chaumont's offer was accepted. The 
 Franklins moved to their suburban home early in 
 1777. A half-hour's drive out along the road to 
 Versailles brought them to Passy, a village crown- 
 ing a wooded hill beside the Seine. It was one of 
 the most beautiful and socially desirable of the Paris 
 suburbs. A remarkable panorama greeted their 
 eyes from that village height: Paris, the winding 
 Seine, a country-side dotted with noblemen's villas, 
 and scores of walled towns. There were many im- 
 posing homes in Passy, among them one of the 
 king's chateaux, La Muette. Indeed, next to this 
 royal chateau stood Franklin's new home, the Hotel 
 de Valentinois. The way to this was now along a 
 winding road, beneath a stone bridge, and through a 
 gateway into the walled enclosure. Castellated and 
 vine-embowered, with its great stone balustrades 
 and Tuscan columns, its settings of terraces and
 
 24 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 gardens, it must have seemed to Franklin an in- 
 congruous home for an envoy of a little scarce- 
 fledged and already bankrupt republic. 
 
 So imbued are most of us with an idea of demo- 
 cratic simplicity in Franklin, that we naturally pic- 
 ture the establishment that he now set up as one 
 of Spartan modesty. Not so. The fact is that 
 there was no great simplicity about the Doctor in 
 his later days. He was a man of the world, and 
 with very different ideas from those of his Poor 
 Richard. Many American travelers in France pro- 
 nounced his style of living extravagant; his ele- 
 gant French friends regarded it as charmingly 
 modest. He had his maitre d'hotel with a consid- 
 erable corps of servants, his carriages and horses, 
 and maintained a rather luxurious table. His 
 servants were not in livery, but were kept neatly 
 and expensively dressed. 
 
 The envoys now held their conferences at this 
 new home of their chief ; and as Congress failed to 
 provide an assistant, Temple became virtually the 
 secretary of the embassy. This brought him closely 
 in touch with the men and events of those stirring 
 times. Probably no other boy of his age ever had 
 such intimate knowledge of pending international 
 affairs. To-day it is with an odd sense of the in- 
 congruous that one reads the records of momentous 
 and secret state papers, written in a boyish hand,
 
 FRENCH NOBLE AND ENGLISH KING 25 
 
 and closing with the entry, "True Copy. Examined. 
 W. T. Franklin." 
 
 While the American envoys were getting their 
 affairs under way at Passy, the indefatigable Lafay- 
 ette was secretly trying to purchase a ship. Through 
 a trusted agent, he secured at Bordeaux a vessel 
 called La Victoire. But it could not be delivered 
 until the middle of March. In the meantime 
 the new owner went to London upon a visit to 
 his uncle, the Marquis de Noailles, then Ambas- 
 sador from France to England. 
 
 Lafayette had never been in London. He was 
 impressed by the marked difference in appearance 
 between that city and Paris. In Paris were far 
 finer palaces and gardens than he found here in 
 London; the houses there, too, even when dingy, 
 were more cheerful than the dark brick ones about 
 him in the English capital. But here, instead of 
 driving through narrow dirty streets, he was travers- 
 ing clean spacious thoroughfares ; and, oddest of all, 
 here were walk-ways at the side for pedestrians. 
 
 As a nobleman of France, and introduced by the 
 French ambassador, Lafayette was handsomely re- 
 ceived in English court circles. The young marquis 
 gaily attended dinners, balls, routs, and the opera- 
 He met England's most noted statesmen, courtiers, 
 men of letters, ladies of rank, wits, belles, and beaux. 
 
 With the secret plans he had in his head, it was 
 an odd experience when he was presented by his
 
 26 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 uncle to the King of England the king he was 
 going to fight. He found the ceremony of pres- 
 entation at the English court different from that 
 of the court of France. He was used to seeing his 
 half-dressed sovereign giving audience in the royal 
 bedchamber, scarcely speaking to most of those pre- 
 sented, and principally occupied with the process 
 of being robed by a retinue of nobles. And such, 
 a little earlier, had been the practice in England. 
 But the custom of George III was to go over to St. 
 James's Palace from Buckingham House, in his 
 royal sedan-chair, and to hold a levee in which he 
 walked about the room and spoke to all present. So 
 this was the monarch who was trying to crush those 
 struggling colonies in America! A well-appearing 
 royal personage in the main ; a figure of good height, 
 not much too stout as yet, and of dignified bearing. 
 However, the whole kingly effect was rather spoiled 
 by white eyebrows, and certain indications of too 
 close association with Bacchus. 
 
 Lafayette's fine sense of honor alone saved him 
 from making mistakes in London. He was a guest 
 of England; and he was at the same time secretly 
 an officer in the army of her enemy. Many times 
 his English acquaintances puzzled over his refusal 
 to see interesting things and places, things and 
 places that Lafayette felt might afford him military 
 information to which he was not entitled. He espe-
 
 FRENCH NOBLE AND ENGLISH KING 27 
 
 cially refused to visit the seaports where expeditions 
 were fitting out against the colonies. 
 
 While the marquis concealed his intentions, he 
 openly avowed his sentiments, and often defended 
 the Americans in this capital of their enemies. At 
 length it was time for his ship to be ready. With 
 a suddenness that almost excited the suspicions of 
 his uncle he cut his visit short and returned to 
 France.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 LAFAYETTE GOES TO AMERICA 
 
 IT was on March 12, 1777, that Lafayette ar- 
 rived in Paris. He went to the house of an of- 
 ficer, Johann Kalb, who was to accompany him to 
 America. There he remained concealed for several 
 days, making final preparations for his voyage. The 
 young noble felt that he could not go to take leave 
 of his young wife and their baby girl, Henriette, 
 for the Due d'Ayen would at once secure the king's 
 order for his arrest. So, heavy-hearted, he left a 
 letter to be delivered later, and then secretly set out 
 upon his great adventure. It was on the evening of 
 March 16 that he and Kalb took post to go to the 
 waiting ship, and three days later they drove into 
 Bordeaux. Through the narrow, crooked streets 
 in the old part of town the two found their way to 
 the waterfront, and to the vessel that the marquis 
 had bought. 
 
 There she lay, such as she was, an awkward, 
 heavy craft, armed with two old cannon and a few 
 muskets. But what a wonderful ship she was to the 
 boy adventurer ! His own ship, to bear him across 
 the sea to fight for liberty ! 
 
 28
 
 LAFAYETTE GOES TO AMERICA 29 
 
 However, the marquis was not at the end of his 
 troubles. Evidently his parting letter had been de- 
 livered too soon ; for now he learned that the king's 
 interdict had issued to prevent his sailing. Couriers 
 to stop him were even now on the way. And La 
 Victoire not ready for sea, and without her papers ! 
 Lafayette plunged into the work of fitting his ship, 
 hoping to escape before the royal order could be 
 served. At last, except for her papers, La Victoire 
 was ready, several young officers who were to go 
 with the marquis were aboard, and the wind prom- 
 ised fair. It was resolved to sail at once, and to 
 put in at the nearest Spanish port for the ship's 
 papers. 
 
 So, on March 26, La Victoire weighed anchor and 
 stood down the river toward the sea. It was a 
 fit morning for a start upon so glorious an adven- 
 ture, a morning of glorious weather. Along the 
 river banks were beautiful country-seats, ancient 
 convents, and picturesque villages, la belle France 
 looking her best at the hour of parting. Reaching 
 the open sea, the voyagers turned southward and 
 wearily beat their course against the strong shore 
 current down the sand-waste coast of France. On 
 March 28 they ran into the first Spanish port, the 
 beautiful little landlocked harbor, Los Pasages. 
 
 But the little harbor did not long look beautiful 
 to Lafayette. He found at Los Pasages what he 
 had escaped at Bordeaux, two officers of his king
 
 30 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 with a lettre de cachet commanding him to return 
 to France, and to await further orders at Marseilles. 
 Though now beyond the jurisdiction of France, 
 such a command from his king could not well be 
 defied. He left La Victoire in charge of his com- 
 panions, and dejectedly started back with the officers, 
 though still hoping for a way of escape. 
 
 Just after crossing the boundary line into France, 
 they passed through a village. The perturbed 
 Lafayette scarcely noticed this quaint little bathing- 
 place, St. Jean de Luz. But St. Jean de Luz noticed 
 him, or at least the daughter of the post-house 
 keeper did. And soon to this girl he was to owe his 
 getting to America. 
 
 Traveling on up the coast of France, Lafayette 
 came again to Bordeaux, from which, with high 
 hopes, he had so recently sailed. There he wrote 
 many letters to ministers, family, and friends, try- 
 ing to vindicate himself and get permission to sail. 
 He soon saw that his efforts were useless, and re- 
 solved again upon flight. He planned the attempt 
 with a young friend, the Vicomte de Mauroy, who 
 now joined him at Bordeaux, and who also wished 
 to go to America. Leaving the commandant at 
 Bordeaux to suppose that he was going to Marseilles, 
 in compliance with the king's order, Lafayette with 
 his friend set out from the town in a post-chaise. 
 Outside the town they changed their course, and
 
 LAFAYETTE GOES TO AMERICA 31 
 
 took the road leading back toward the little Span- 
 ish port and La Victoire. 
 
 That was not all. In a little while, any govern- 
 ment officers overtaking that post-chaise would have 
 found but a single individual riding in it, the Vi- 
 comte de Mauroy, who was not the gentleman they 
 might be looking for. As was the custom, the vi- 
 comte had a postboy on horseback far ahead to secure 
 inn accommodations and fresh horses for the car- 
 riage. He was a rather long and not very graceful 
 postboy, and his complexion and hair may have 
 looked somewhat artificial; but the desperate hope 
 was, anyway, that no one would recognize him as 
 the Marquis de Lafayette. 
 
 On went postboy and post-chaise in their flight 
 toward the Spanish border. Now they were almost 
 there, the postboy galloping into the last of the 
 French villages, St. Jean de Luz. An hour more 
 and he would be aboard La Victoire! Then the 
 thing happened. The postboy saw the girl of St. 
 Jean de Luz; and the girl of St. Jean de Luz saw 
 him. And there was recognition in her eyes ! And 
 she the daughter of the keeper of the post! 
 
 In that tense moment, in that quick eye-play be- 
 tween the girl and the fugitive lay the to-be or the 
 not-to-be of Lafayette's career in America. A sig- 
 nal from him, and his danger passed. The girl un- 
 derstood, and adroitly turned the matter aside. Out 
 of the inn yard, and off upon his way again, gal-
 
 32 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 loped the postboy nobleman. Officers came dashing 
 into the village close upon his trail. Again the 
 Marquis de Lafayette and the United States of 
 America were to owe much to the girl of St. Jean 
 de Luz. Quick and resourceful, she misled the 
 officers; the last precious moments of their pursuit 
 were wasted; and Lafayette went joyfully over the 
 border. 
 
 On Sunday, April 20, 1777, La Viet owe sailed 
 out of the little Spanish harbor of Los Pasages, 
 bound for the port of Charleston, capital of the 
 colony (now bravely calling itself the state) of 
 South Carolina, in the land of America. Quite 
 promptly both seasickness and homesickness assailed 
 Lafayette. In his suffering he wrote to his girl 
 wife: 
 
 I am writing to you from a great distance, my dearest 
 love. . . . How many fears and anxieties enhance the 
 keen anguish I feel at being separated from all that I 
 love most fondly in the world ! How have you borne my 
 second departure? have you loved me less? have you 
 pardoned me? ... I hope that for my sake you will 
 become a good American, for that feeling is worthy of 
 every noble heart. 
 
 Baffling winds, and heavy, plodding ship. The 
 voyage seemed stretching out endlessly. Lafayette 
 took up the study of the language he should soon 
 have to use. A sick, lonely boy at sea, wrestling 
 with that lawless monster, English speech. x At 
 last the lookout sighted land. America! Yes, but 
 where in America? No one could tell. Con-
 
 LAFAYETTE GOES TO AMERICA 33 
 
 fused, they ran for several days along a low-lying 
 coast, offering no harbor. The sea rolled in upon 
 a continuous hard sandy beach, for the most part 
 white as snow, behind it a green wall of palmetto 
 and pine. At length, upon Friday, June 13, they 
 came to an opening in the coast, apparently an 
 inlet, but not even the captain had any knowledge 
 of it. Here they cast anchor. 
 
 Lafayette and some of the officers set out in the 
 ship's yawl to find a landing. They entered the inlet 
 about the middle of the afternoon, and rowed up 
 a little waterway for hours through an apparently 
 uninhabited country. Long after nightfall they 
 came upon a few negroes tonging for oysters. The 
 negroes guided them to a little landing, and they 
 made their way toward a light shining from a 
 distant house. As they approached, dogs barked 
 and a voice called out in the darkness. They re- 
 sponded in their best English, and soon found them- 
 selves the welcome guests of an American officer, 
 Major Benjamin Huger. It proved that La Victoire 
 had come to anchor off Winyah Bay, some fifty 
 miles up the Carolina coast from her intended des- 
 tination, Charleston. Sending a pilot to take her 
 to that port, the marquis with his companions re- 
 mained at Major Huger's. 
 
 How Lafayette, wherever he went, touched other 
 lives with the romance of his own ! That night the
 
 34 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 eyes of young Francis Huger, the little son of the 
 house, were wide and bright with the sense of ad- 
 venture. The mysterious ship from across the sea, 
 waiting in the night down the bay; the elegant 
 French nobleman landing in the swamps and the 
 darkness to fight for America! But wider and 
 brighter would those young eyes have been if the 
 boy could have known that one day, in a far land, 
 he was to cross paths with this nobleman again, and 
 was to risk his own life for him. Now, Lafayette, 
 himself but a boy, was enjoying the success of his 
 own adventure. The long struggle to reach America 
 was over. He was safe in the land where he was 
 to draw his sword for liberty. 
 
 He awakened next morning keenly alive to his 
 new and strange surroundings : the unaccustomed 
 room of a Southern plantation house, the bed oddly 
 covered with mosquito netting, the turbaned black 
 servants who came to wait upon him. He rose and 
 looked from his window. It was a beautiful morn- 
 ing, and he looked out upon a strange and beautiful 
 scene. It was a scene of luxuriant verdure, little 
 of which was familiar to him. And the strange 
 freshness of it all, and the ardor of his young soul 
 for liberty in this new land, filled him with inde- 
 scribable emotions. 
 
 Lafayette and his companions tarried at Major 
 Huger's two or three days, and then went to Charles- 
 ton. This was a small city numbering about fifteen
 
 LAFAYETTE GOES TO AMERICA 35 
 
 thousand people. But it was the Paris of America. 
 The governing 1 class of the province lived there; 
 it was the resort of the aristocracy of planters, and 
 the center of slave-holding wealth and pride and 
 power. As a result, it was a city of handsome build- 
 ings, notable refinement of life, and was much 
 given to pleasure and display. As soon as the ar- 
 rival of the travel-worn Frenchmen came to be 
 known in the town, they were given the most hos- 
 pitable reception. Lafayette thought Charleston one 
 of the handsomest and most agreeable cities he had 
 ever seen. But he was not so much taken up with 
 the city as to overlook the beauty of its daughters, 
 and his French gallantry struggled bravely with an 
 unknown tongue. 
 
 One noonday La Victoire came tacking into the 
 harbor. Lafayette supposed that the sale of her 
 cargo would give him and his companions abundant 
 funds. But to his dismay he found that, in haste 
 to escape from France, he had unwittingly signed 
 an agreement which precluded his realizing any- 
 thing at present upon either cargo or ship. It was 
 an embarrassing beginning in the new land, for he 
 had to borrow money for the trip to Philadelphia, 
 where he and his fellow-officers would obtain their 
 army positions. 
 
 On June 25 the French company bade farewell 
 to the metropolis of the South. The little procession 
 made an odd appearance as it got under way. At
 
 36 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 the head rode one of the marquis's people in a 
 huzzar's uniform. Next came an open carriage 
 containing Lafayette and Kalb, one of Lafayette's 
 servants riding alongside as his squire. Other car- 
 riages followed with officers or luggage; and (after 
 the manner of the new land) the rear was brought 
 up by a negro on horseback. The rather imposing 
 character of this cavalcade did not last long. The 
 rough roads wrecked the carriages, some of the 
 horses went lame, some of the party fell ill, and 
 some went afoot. But the travelers pressed on, sup- 
 ported by agreeable memories of their reception at 
 Charleston, and by pleasant anticipations of a like 
 greeting at Philadelphia, if they could hold out to 
 get there. 
 
 On July 27, after some eight hundred miles of 
 this weary travel, the little company entered Phila- 
 delphia. The Quaker City of that day contained 
 thirty thousand inhabitants; and, as far as it went, 
 was the same precise checker-board city that it is 
 to-day. It was well paved; had wide, clean side- 
 walks ; was fairly lighted at night ; and was in many 
 ways ahead of the times. All this was largely due 
 to that prominent citizen Benjamin Franklin, 
 through whose genius Philadelphians also had 
 lightning-rods, Franklin stoves, and Poor Richard 
 almanacs. And here in the capital of the American 
 republic, the French officers learned more fully 
 about the conflict they had come to enter.
 
 LAFAYETTE GOES TO AMERICA 37 
 
 For two years the war had gone on without any- 
 thing approaching decisive results. In the present 
 campaign, besides smaller forces at various points, 
 each side had two main armies in the field. At New 
 York was a British army under General Howe, and 
 opposing it from points near by was an American 
 army under General Washington ; while in the coun- 
 try of the upper Hudson was a British army under 
 General Burgoyne, and, opposing it, an American 
 army under General Schuyler at first, and later 
 under General Gates. 
 
 The logical plan of the campaign clearly was for 
 the English to seek and for the Americans to oppose 
 a union of the two British armies. Such a union, 
 once accomplished, would mean English control of 
 New York State, and would cut the string of embryo 
 states in two. In the attempt to prevent this the 
 American commander-in-chief had to face a serious 
 problem. 
 
 After sending to Schuyler some of his own best 
 troops, Washington felt confident that that general 
 would be able to keep Burgoyne from making much 
 progress southward toward a junction with the 
 forces of Howe; but a more difficult undertaking 
 would fall to himself in preventing Howe from 
 going to Burgoyne. 
 
 Promptly the struggle between Schuyler and Bur- 
 goyne began in the wilds of the upper Hudson ; but 
 to Washington's amazement, as he held himself in
 
 38 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 readiness to dispute a northward march of Howe, 
 that general made no move. At length, four days 
 before the company of French officers arrived in 
 Philadelphia, an inexplicable thing had happened. 
 With all strategic conditions requiring his immediate 
 advance up the Hudson, .Howe had suddenly em- 
 barked his army, and disappeared upon the ocean. 
 Now all was excitement as to the purpose and the 
 probable landing-place of the British ; and Washing- 
 ton, in his encampment near New York, was anx- 
 iously awaiting information. 
 
 The French officers were highly interested in this 
 state of military affairs, and they lost no time in 
 trying to enter the drama. Their way to the Con- 
 gress led to a little-developed portion of Chestnut 
 Street where there was an ill-kept park, a walled 
 park in those days, and a great gateway gave en- 
 trance. There stood the Pennsylvania State House, 
 where the Declaration of Independence had been 
 adopted and where Congress now sat. It was al- 
 ready beginning to be called Independence Hall. 
 It appeared then virtually as it does to-day, a noble, 
 beautiful building, well worthy the honor that came 
 to it. 
 
 Lafayette, afire with enthusiasm, his heart beating 
 high, approached this birthplace of American lib- 
 erty. But it was there he was to meet the disappoint- 
 ment of his life. The little party reached the door 
 of Independence Hall, and that was as far as they
 
 LAFAYETTE GOES TO AMERICA 39 
 
 got. They were met by one or two members of 
 Congress, and so coolly as to leave them stupified. 
 They were given to understand that Mr. Deane 
 had exceeded his authority in commissioning them, 
 and that they were not needed, and were not wanted. 
 
 Amazed, and scarcely comprehending such treat- 
 ment, they turned away. Unnecessarily brusque as 
 their dismissal was, it was not wholly without rea- 
 son. Numerous foreigners had already succeeded 
 in getting commissions in the American Army, and 
 most of them had proved worthless adventurers. 
 It was, all unknowingly, upon the heels of such a 
 rabble that Lafayette and his companions knocked 
 at the door of Congress. To most of the French 
 company that chill reception seemed final. Not so 
 to Lafayette. He prepared an address to Congress, 
 all of which would likely have been in vain but 
 for one most surprising and felicitous passage. He 
 declared that, after all the sacrifice he had made, 
 he had a right to ask Congress to allow him to serve 
 in the American army without pay, and at first 
 as a volunteer. Such terms, so different from the 
 bumptious demands of other foreign officers, and 
 showing such disinterested zeal for the cause, were 
 at once accepted. The young French officer was 
 commissioned by Congress as a major-general in 
 the American army on July 31, 1777, but was not 
 promised an immediate command. 
 
 Nor did destiny give any promise that day of
 
 40 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 what it had in store as a result of that most fortu- 
 nate commission. Fate kept to herself the fact 
 that this coolly received French boy was to become 
 the idol of the American people ; that soon this Con- 
 gress was to be proud to present to him a magnifi- 
 cent sword; and finally that, in a strange way, the 
 blade of that sword was to disappear, but the golden 
 hilt was to become part of the Sword of Liberty.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE WOUNDED BOY FROM FRANCE 
 
 ABOUT the end of July, 1777, it was reported 
 that the British fleet had been seen off Dela- 
 ware Bay. Philadelphia was in danger. General 
 Washington marched his army southward almost to 
 the town, and himself went on and spent some 
 days in the little capital. Now came that first meet- 
 ing between the young French knight of liberty and 
 the American hero of all his dreams. A dinner party 
 was given to the commander-in-chief, at which La- 
 fayette was a guest. There his eager young eyes 
 quickly singled out, from the throng of officers and 
 dignitaries, the great leader. 
 
 That night the young marquis was beholding 
 Washington in his prime. The American com- 
 mander was then about forty-five years of age, and 
 in the unusually vigorous health that was providen- 
 tially granted him in those trying days. Towering 
 above the men about him he stood there, well over 
 six feet tall, admirably proportioned, as straight 
 as an Indian, and muscled to magnificent power. 
 His head, though not large, was well shaped, and 
 finely poised. His countenance was remarkable,
 
 42 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 agreeable, even benignant, and yet of commanding 1 
 force. Beneath a strong forehead, penetrating blue- 
 gray eyes looked out, wide apart; the nose, strong 
 and straight, was a little too heavy, though that 
 was scarcely noticed in the general strength of the 
 face ; a large, firm mouth took added firmness from 
 a rather projecting lower jaw. The hair was brown, 
 though of course well-powdered now, and was gath- 
 ered back into a cue. But striking face and striking 
 figure were not all. Everything about General 
 Washington would serve to hold Lafayette's gaze. 
 The calm, impressive dignity; the unlooked-for 
 gracefulness in a man of such size; and above all, 
 the simple natural air of authority. 
 
 At length came the meeting between the young 
 French courtier and the big, aristocratic Virginian. 
 Now the marquis, on closer view, would notice a 
 physical blemish hi his idol. Smallpox had scarred 
 the noble countenance, though little would the boy 
 think of that in so imposing a presence. That pres- 
 ence, that natural stateliness of Washington, im- 
 pressed all the notable Europeans who visited the 
 United States during the war. 
 
 Of course the conversation that night between 
 Washington and Lafayette had its difficulties, for 
 the former could not speak French, and the latter 
 was making his first essays at English. But the 
 young Frenchman managed 'to commend himself, 
 and was invited to make the quarters of the com-
 
 THE WOUNDED BOY FROM FRANCE 43 
 
 mander-in-chief his home, and to consider himself 
 at all times one of the General's military family. 
 Thus began a friendship that ripened rapidly, and 
 that was destined to unite these two men in unusual 
 intimacy. 
 
 Conflicting reports about the British fleet held 
 Washington's army near Philadelphia ; and about the 
 middle of August Lafayette joined it, and began his 
 long and faithful service in the American cause. 
 As he rode into camp he found the commander-in- 
 chief just about to review the troops. The marquis 
 was added to the reviewing party, and thereupon 
 had a sudden and surprising revelation of the des- 
 perate condition of the patriots. Before him passed 
 the principal army of the Americans, the main hope 
 of the new nation, and it was a sorry sight. Per- 
 haps eleven thousand men, poorly armed, worse clad, 
 and in unsoldierly array. 
 
 Soon news arrived that Howe's fleet was coming 
 up Chesapeake Bay. That meant an attack upon 
 Philadelphia. Immediately Washington marched 
 his army below the city to protect it. He took up 
 his position on the north bank of a shallow, lazy 
 little river called the Brandywine. His center cov- 
 ered the main crossing-place, Chadd's Ford, while 
 his wings guarded other fords up and down the 
 stream. He established headquarters near the cen- 
 ter, a little back from the river, and Lafayette's 
 post was with him.
 
 44 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 On September n the British, marching up from 
 the head of the Chesapeake, eighteen thousand 
 strong, reached the Brandywine, and engaged the 
 American center at Chadd's Ford. It was a spirited 
 attack, and, owing to the wooded nature of the 
 country, Washington could not know whether it 
 was in full force or not. But it was not. A large 
 part of Howe's army was then making a long 
 detour that would carry it across the Brandywine 
 above the guarded fords. Through a confusion 
 of despatches, Washington did not learn this at 
 first. Suddenly a countryman rode up and insisted 
 upon seeing the commander-in-chief. He declared 
 that British forces had crossed the river at higher 
 fords, and were coming down on that side so rapidly 
 that the Americans soon would be surrounded. 
 "My life for it!" he cried. "Put me under guard, 
 General, until you find it's true!" At the same 
 moment came despatches confirming the man's 
 story. 
 
 Instantly Washington sent troops to support the 
 endangered right wing; and with them went a boy 
 officer with the best fighting-blood of France in his 
 veins. The marquis found the Americans broken 
 by the unexpected attack of the British, who had 
 crossed the stream above them. Recklessly imperil- 
 ing his life in trying to rally the panic-stricken 
 soldiers, he became one of the heroes of the day. 
 He was soon wounded, a musket ball passing
 
 THE WOUNDED BOY FROM FRANCE 45 
 
 through his left leg. But he held the field, and 
 helped to prevent a general rout. However, the 
 American center also now gave way, and the whole 
 army fell back toward Philadelphia. In the retreat, 
 Lafayette, with his leg temporarily bandaged, was 
 carried along by the resistless mass toward Chester. 
 Night fell. Lafayette attempted to make a stand 
 again. At a bridge on the outskirts of Chester, he 
 threw out guards and succeeded in stopping the 
 torrent of fugitives. 
 
 That night General Washington was almost 
 fatherly in his solicitude as he directed the surgeon 
 to care for the young French officer. And at mid- 
 night, as Lafayette lay in pain but in happiness too, 
 his commander-in-chief was despatching to Con- 
 gress the report of the battle, and making special 
 mention of the injury to the Marquis de Lafayette. 
 Indeed, it would have been hard to teli which of the 
 two, the boy or his great leader, was the prouder 
 of that wound. A wound that, long afterward, the 
 unemotional Washington characterized as "the 
 tribute that Lafayette paid to gallantry at the 
 Brandy wine." 
 
 Though the disorderly flight of American troops 
 had been stayed at Chester, yet the retreat itself 
 would have to' continue. And so, some time after 
 Lafayette's wound was dressed, he was borne out 
 through the dark, disturbed streets of the little 
 village, and placed in a boat, to be carried up the
 
 46 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Delaware. About daylight, to one of the many 
 rude piers that then jutted from the low water-front 
 of Philadelphia, came the little ambulance boat. 
 The marquis was tenderly lifted and carried into 
 the city. And it was into a scene of excitement 
 and confusion. Speeding couriers had brought 
 hither the news of Washington's defeat at the 
 Brandywine, and Philadelphia seemed doomed to 
 capture. Royalists were rejoicing; while patriots 
 were filled with consternation, and were hurriedly 
 preparing for flight. Congress itself was on the 
 eve of departure. 
 
 In the midst of the commotion Lafayette was 
 carried to the Indian Queen Inn, which stood at 
 the corner of Fourth and Market streets. Here he 
 was attended by admiring citizens. But the thoughts 
 of the young marquis turned to his wife, and from 
 the old inn went a characteristically engaging letter 
 to her. It was an almost amusing mixture of tender 
 care not to alarm her, and of boyish pride in his 
 wound. It was full of brave brightness as he lay 
 there worn and wounded in a far land, amid the 
 clamor of the frightened, distracted city. Many 
 members of Congress came hurriedly to see him, 
 some booted and spurred and ready for flight. But 
 they provided for his safety also. Soon, in a boat 
 got ready upon their orders, and with his attendants 
 and baggage, he was taken on up the river to Bristol. 
 
 There he found several members of the fleeing
 
 THE WOUNDED BOY FROM FRANCE 47 
 
 Congress on their way to reassemble beyond the 
 Schuylkill. Among these was one of the most promi- 
 nent of the patriots, Henry Laurens. He took the 
 wounded marquis into his carriage to convey him 
 to a little settlement in the Pennsylvania foot-hills, 
 called Bethlehem, where the Americans had a mili- 
 tary hospital. For the long drive, these chance fel- 
 low-travelers were not ill met. Laurens was a native 
 of the state upon whose hospitable shores the mar- 
 quis had lately landed, and (like Lafayette's first 
 host, Major Huger) was of French Huguenot 
 descent. But rough, jolting roads and a wounded 
 leg were a less happy combination, and the marquis 
 watched eagerly for the first glimpse of Bethlehem. 
 
 That glimpse came with striking abruptness. Out 
 from the primeval wilderness of new America, the 
 travelers came suddenly upon a walled town of old 
 Europe. At least it looked that way. An opening 
 in the wooded hills disclosed a settlement of long 
 stone houses in rows, with many connecting stone 
 walls. A peculiar-looking place belonging to a 
 peculiar people, the Moravians. 
 
 The war had brought a rude awakening to these 
 gentle, isolated folk in their little village of Beth- 
 lehem. Theirs was the gospel of non-resistance; 
 and, refusing to join in the struggle against the 
 King of England, they were often condemned as 
 royalists by the patriots, and sometimes persecuted. 
 Just now some of their buildings were being used
 
 48 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 as a hospital for the American army. However, 
 that was not persecution ; for the care of the suffer- 
 ing appealed to the Moravians, and their hearts as 
 well as their doors opened to the afflicted. 
 
 Into this once so peaceful but now disquieted vil- 
 lage, came the carriage bearing the wounded Lafay- 
 ette, on September 21, as the Sunday sun was 
 setting. The little settlement was crowded. Here 
 were soldiers on guard, and refugees from Phila- 
 delphia, and wagon-trains of wounded from the 
 Brandywine. Through a scene of confusion the 
 Laurens carriage brought Lafayette to the broad, 
 many-windowed front of the old Sun Inn. The inn 
 was already filled, among its guests being several 
 members of Congress and some officers of the 
 army. But the marquis was carried up the steps 
 to the white portico; and mine host Jost Jensen, 
 good-natured giant, crowded somebody a little more 
 that the wounded officer might have a place for the 
 night. 
 
 Next day Lafayette was moved from the crowded 
 inn to the Boeckel home near by. There he was to 
 remain until well again. He was attentively nursed 
 by Mrs. Boeckel, in her little white cap tied with 
 a blue ribbon, and the pretty daughter of the house, 
 Liesel, in her little white cap tied with a pink ribbon. 
 For in Bethlehem, be it known, matrimony wrought 
 this change in the color scheme. 
 
 Lafayette suffered a good deal from his wound,
 
 THE WOUNDED BOY FROM FRANCE 49 
 
 but he had the best of surgical aid. Washington 
 sent to him his surgeon-in-chief with admonitions 
 to care for the boy as though he were the general's 
 own son. The patient's main trouble was worry 
 over his enforced inaction. And that would wear 
 upon him the more as he learned how his "dear 
 general," still forced backward by Howe, was com- 
 pelled to let Philadelphia fall into the hands of the 
 enemy. 
 
 Day after day, looking out upon the quaint vil- 
 lage street, this ardent, imprisoned lover of liberty 
 would see everywhere the signs of liberty's defeat. 
 Now, dismally heavier the stream of refugees rolled 
 in from the fallen city. Wagon-trains of public 
 stores and of army supplies were trailing by. And 
 one day came a wagon bearing a monstrous bell. 
 Already sacred, it was the great bell that had rung 
 out to the people the signing of the Declaration of 
 Independence. Unhung, silenced, fleeing with the 
 rest, was this very emblem of American freedom. 
 As though humiliation were not yet great enough, 
 the wagon broke down in the village street, and 
 in dirt and debris lay the Voice of Liberty! 
 
 But the young marquis held to his faith and his 
 courage. He knew that Washington, even in battle- 
 defeat, was strategically winning. Having sold 
 Philadelphia as dearly as he could, he would now 
 endeavor to make it for Howe not a prize but a 
 prison, a prison in which the English army would
 
 50 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 be held when it ought to be on its way to the aid 
 of Burgoyne. By the middle of October Lafayette 
 could endure inaction no longer. Though he was 
 unable to bear a boot upon his injured leg, he bade 
 good-by to the gentle Moravians and set out for 
 Washington's headquarters. 
 
 By this time, the main army still threatening 
 Howe, and acting to cut off his supplies at Phila- 
 delphia was occupying a position about twenty 
 miles north of the city. Lafayette arrived in a 
 camp that was all jubilant uproar. Out of the North 
 a speeding courier had just brought glorious news 
 to headquarters : Gates was victorious ; Burgoyne 
 and his whole army were prisoners of war! How 
 joyously the young marquis plunged into the camp 
 celebration! Not even he could detect the shadow 
 that lay across it all for his great leader. 
 
 No one could have excelled General Washington 
 that day in true and thankful appreciation of this 
 great victory of the American arms ; but personally 
 it was an evil day for him, and he knew it. Fate 
 had not been kind to the commander-in-chief of the 
 American army. Though no other man could have 
 filled his place, though his was the master mind 
 that guided the Revolution and brought victories 
 to other generals, yet personal victory seldom came 
 to him. It seemed as though a perverse destiny 
 deprived him of successes splendidly earned, and 
 just within his grasp.
 
 THE WOUNDED BOY FROM FRANCE 51 
 
 Now another campaign was closing, another 
 campaign of technical even if not real defeat for the 
 main American army the army under his imme- 
 diate command. Dissatisfaction with his leadership 
 was springing up; unreasonable and as yet incon- 
 siderable, but manifest and growing. And here, 
 almost upon the heels of another defeat for him, 
 came this spectacular triumph of one of his gen- 
 erals, and that general one who had been named 
 more than once in connection with the position of 
 commander-in-chief. Even as the great Virginian 
 wrote his congratulations to General Gates, even as 
 he ordered salvos of cannon in honor of his victory, 
 he clearly foresaw the cost of that victory to him- 
 self. 
 
 Never was Washington greater than at this 
 moment. Knowing that his own defeats had been 
 inevitable, and partly for want of choice troops of 
 which he had robbed himself to reinforce Gates; 
 knowing that the success was really due not to Gates 
 but to his predecessor, Schuyler, and to subordinate 
 officers, yet the commander-in-chief held his peace, 
 and spoke only in praise and thankfulness. "If the 
 cause is advanced," he patriotically declared, "in- 
 different is it to me in what quarter it happens."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE SWORD MEDALLION, "GLOUCESTER" 
 
 THE evil fruits that had to come of that 
 glorious success in the North quickly ripened. 
 Insidiously was spread the propaganda, Washing- 
 ton and defeat; Gates and victory. A party arose 
 in Congress whose ultimate purpose was a change 
 of leaders ; and Gates, in every way untrue to Wash- 
 ington, joined this cabal, and schemed to become 
 commander-in-chief. Washington paid no heed, 
 and in patience and dignity went on with his duties. 
 Toward the end of November, 1777, news came 
 to the American camp just north of Philadelphia, 
 that a large foraging detachment under Cornwallis 
 had left the city and entered New Jersey. Wash- 
 ington ordered Greene with his division to follow 
 and if practicable to give battle. Lafayette obtained 
 permission to accompany the expedition. He and 
 Greene had come to be warm friends. Greene was 
 much impressed with the "noble enthusiasm" that 
 had led the marquis to leave "a young wife and a 
 fine fortune of fourteen thousand pounds sterling 
 
 52
 
 "GLOUCESTER" 53 
 
 per annum to come and engage in the cause of 
 liberty." 
 
 The American forces proceeded to Mount Holly, 
 New Jersey, where Greene sent Lafayette forward 
 with three hundred men to reconnoiter the enemy's 
 position. A small detachment and ragged; but the 
 boy general was proud of his first command. What 
 delighted him most was that he had a few of the 
 famous Morgan riflemen, those unequaled fighters 
 the like of which Europe had never seen. Clean- 
 limbed, clear-eyed men in buckskin and moccasins 
 with long-barreled, deadly rifles, who could slip 
 through the forest as silently as Indians. 
 
 Lafayette learned that Cornwallis was near 
 Gloucester, a New Jersey town on the Delaware 
 a little below Philadelphia, He found the British 
 encamped beside a creek emptying into the river. 
 He made a personal reconnaissance, stealing out 
 upon a small tongue of land so far that it seemed 
 he must be captured or shot. Absolutely fearless, 
 before him the example of Washington (who made 
 most daring personal observations of the enemy), 
 Lafayette stopped at nothing to make his little 
 expedition a success. It was not a pleasant scene 
 that the keen eyes of the marquis were watching. 
 Sleek, well-fed, well-clothed soldiers loading their 
 boats with forage, while the American forces, even 
 those behind him then, were suffering for the neces- 
 sities of life. The enemy were not so unconscious
 
 54 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 of Lafayette's presence as they seemed. All this 
 while British dragoons were stealing around to in- 
 tercept him. But he discovered them and made a 
 quick retreat to his troops. 
 
 The marquis was not content with observation. 
 He fell back, crossed the creek, and marched his 
 detachment straight toward the British camp. With 
 his little force, he could only skirmish, but he was 
 bent upon as much of a fight as he could make. 
 
 He soon encountered an advance post of Hes- 
 sians, alone outnumbering the Americans, and 
 having cannon. Lafayette attacked and precipitated 
 a miniature battle. It was a short-lived one. The 
 Hessians broke in full retreat. Pressing them hard, 
 the young general threw out pickets at the cross- 
 roads to prevent surprise and sent a little band to 
 threaten the enemy's right flank. Daylight was 
 going now, but so were the Hessians, and Lafayette 
 kept on. Reinforcements arrived for the sleek, 
 scarlet-coated mercenaries, fleeing before the gaunt, 
 ragged Continentals. But that only made so many 
 the more to run. Cornwallis, alarmed, came up 
 at nightfall with his grenadiers; and Lafayette's 
 proud little army, drums beating, drew off and re- 
 joined Greene's division. Although Greene was not 
 strong enough to follow up this spirited reconnais- 
 sance by an attack in force, and the whole detach- 
 ment now returned to headquarters, yet the little
 
 "GLOUCESTER" 55 
 
 affair at Gloucester stood out a bright heartening 
 bit in the gloom of the waning campaign. 
 
 The next day Lafayette sat down to write it all 
 to Washington. His naive views and his quaint 
 lapses in an unaccustomed language, make the letter 
 a most engaging one. Full of pride and pleasure, 
 he laboriously assumed an air of calm unconcern 
 quite becoming a major-general. He deprecated 
 mentioning the matter at all, yet made a long letter 
 of it. Beginning with the attractively confused 
 announcement, "I went down to this place since the 
 day before yesterday," the victorious commander 
 reported, "We got yet this day fourteen prisoners." 
 To swell the dear little casualty list of the enemy, 
 he added a postscript : "I have just now a certain 
 assurance that two British officers, besides those 
 I spoke you of, have died this morning of their 
 wounds in an house." Greene's favorable report to 
 Washington of Lafayette's expedition concluded 
 with the words, "The Marquis is determined to be 
 in the way of danger." 
 
 Such was the skirmish at Gloucester. A small 
 affair. But in time it was to be set forth with 
 all the graver's art in a medallion upon that noble 
 sword to be presented by the Continental Con- 
 gress to the Marquis de Lafayette. However, not 
 really for Gloucester, nor for the later events de- 
 picted with it, but for what those events typified, was 
 that sword to be presented. The cunning of the
 
 56 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 graver's art was more to tell of a boy's wonderful 
 love of freedom; of his sacrifice for the independ- 
 ence of a faraway land; and of the quick, warm 
 affection which that land had come to bear toward 
 this veritable Knight of Liberty. 
 
 Nobody got more satisfaction out of the Glouces- 
 ter affair than did the commander-in-chief. The 
 young Frenchman for whom he felt so warm an 
 affection had now, at Brandywine and at Glouces- 
 ter, given a good account of himself. 
 
 It was time for this ardent, unattached major- 
 general to have his own command. And he got it 
 most promptly. On the very day that Washington 
 received Lafayette's boyish account of his second 
 fight, the pleased commander-in-chief wrote to Con- 
 gress suggesting the propriety of giving him a 
 division. And on the same day that Congress re- 
 ceived Washington's letter, it passed a resolution 
 declaring that it was "highly agreeable to Congress 
 that the Marquis de Lafayette be appointed to the 
 command of a division in the Continental Army." 
 And almost on the day that Washington received 
 the resolution of Congress, an order from headquar- 
 ters was issued in camp that "Major-General 
 Marquis de Lafayette is to take the Command 
 of the Division lately Commanded by General 
 Stephen." And his twentieth birthday just passed! 
 
 The division referred to was one of Virginians, 
 men from Washington's own state ! That made the
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON 
 From a painting by C. W. Peale
 
 "GLOUCESTER" 57 
 
 young commander doubly proud of them, although 
 they were about the most ragged and forlorn of that 
 ragged and forlorn array. 
 
 The campaign of 1777 was over, and the Ameri- 
 can commander-in-chief looked about him for a 
 place that would serve as winter quarters for his 
 army. There were many things to be considered 
 in choosing such a place; and while the selection 
 made by Washington has met with criticism, it was 
 probably the best that could have been made. He 
 knew the country, and he could judge its possibili- 
 ties better than any other man. At such a time 
 how much he owed to his youthful experience as a 
 surveyor! His eye for distance, for contour, for 
 every feature of topography, was trained and ac- 
 curate. 
 
 His choice fell upon a spot on the right bank of 
 the Schuylkill, about twenty miles above Philadel- 
 phia. There, among the foothills of the Blue Ridge, 
 two lofty eminences bank the river, and a small 
 tributary stream, Valley Creek, flows in between. 
 The creek, with a little iron-working plant that 
 stood near, gave name to the place, Valley Forge. 
 
 In the cold of a severe December, the miserable, 
 ragged, half-fed army abandoned the camp near 
 Philadelphia, and started upon its march to the 
 bleak hills chosen for winter quarters. Fortunately, 
 even in the hardships of that march, no man fore- 
 visioned the suffering and the agony that lay ahead,
 
 58 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 that for all time should fill with horror the very 
 words "Valley Forge"! 
 
 Present misery was great enough. Over the 
 old Gulf Road, through snow and ice, they marched 
 along the Schuylkill. And when, at last they 
 reached their destination, behind them stretched a 
 trail written plain over the hills in footprints of 
 blood. 
 
 Turn now from those dark last days of 1777 
 in America, the cause of liberty seemingly ebbing 
 away with the dying year, and cast our eyes across 
 to France, a last despairing look for help from 
 over the sea.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE BIRTH OF AMERICAN DIPLOMACY 
 
 VAIN to look to France in those somber days! 
 At Passy still sat a white-haired old man, a 
 little older, a little whiter, still bravely talking, 
 writing, smiling for America. But he was smiling 
 into darkness. Though he knew nothing of the now 
 desperate condition of the patriot army, nothing of 
 the footprints of blood that led to Valley Forge, yet 
 without that the prospect before his eyes was dark 
 enough. 
 
 For long but little news from America had 
 reached France, and most of that was bad. The 
 worst was the report that Philadelphia, the capital 
 of the infant republic, had fallen. That was a 
 heavier blow to Franklin than to Washington. For 
 in Paris unduly grave significance was given to that 
 unfortunate event. Appreciating this, Franklin, as 
 upon many another occasion, had made his quick 
 wit hide a heavy heart. "No!" he had exclaimed, 
 and doubtless with a smile well hinting American 
 strategy. "Howe has not taken Philadelphia; 
 Philadelphia has taken Howe!" 
 
 59
 
 60 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 But wit could not avail to save the situation. 
 Though the ardent soul of France was still for 
 America, though the carriage bearing a quaint, 
 bespectacled old man and a boy was made way for 
 in the streets of Paris as though it were the coach 
 of a prince of the blood, yet the French people were 
 steadily losing faith in the success of the colonists. 
 America's best friends in the ministry were dis- 
 couraged. And, after all the envoys' hard work, 
 open recognition by France seemed farther off than 
 ever. 
 
 In this situation there came, one day in that 
 December of 1777, the news of the surrender of 
 Burgoyne. The effect upon the despairing envoys 
 was magical. Deane said that the message was 
 like a sovereign cordial to the dying. But there was 
 little time for congratulation among themselves. 
 All France, all Europe must know! Of course the 
 first step was to send a despatch to the French Gov- 
 ernment; and the honor of acting as courier fell 
 to Temple. 
 
 The message that the American boy carried to 
 the French minister that day perhaps determined 
 the fate of the United States. Backed up as it 
 immediately was by strong arguments from Frank- 
 lin, it put an end to the long hesitation of France, 
 and brought her to a determination to recognize 
 the brave young republic and to enter into alliance 
 with her. This conclusion of the French Govern-
 
 BIRTH OF AMERICAN DIPLOMACY 61 
 
 ment was hastened by the universal acclamation 
 with which the news of the American success was 
 received throughout France. Paris went into ec- 
 stasies over it, rejoicing as though the victory had 
 been won by French troops. 
 
 Events moved rapidly now. Within a few days 
 the envoys received a note upon the gilt-edged cor- 
 respondence paper of Louis XVI. It quite frankly 
 suggested that proposals for closer relations between 
 France and America would not fall unpleasantly 
 upon the royal ear. Soon began those first treaty 
 negotiations of the United States with a foreign 
 power; those negotiations in which lay the birth 
 of American diplomacy. It was a most satisfac- 
 tory beginning; and largely because of the two chief 
 characters who had to do with it. Vergennes and 
 Franklin met upon a high plane. They sincerely 
 sought to construct for France and the United 
 States a treaty of commerce and a treaty of alliance, 
 both of which should be just, honorable, and endur- 
 ing. The two men knew each other well, respected 
 each other profoundly, and in them the sore-pressed 
 little American republic and the proudest of Euro- 
 pean monarchies met upon terms of absolute 
 equality. 
 
 It was about the beginning of February, 1778, 
 that the final papers establishing terms of com- 
 mercial intercourse and of alliance between the 
 two nations, were ready. Monsieur Gerard, who
 
 62 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 acted for France, met the envoys in Deane's apart- 
 ments in Paris on the evening of Friday, February 
 6. There the men gathered about a table upon 
 which the precious documents were spread out. 
 Monsieur Gerard signed first, and next, Doctor 
 Franklin. The two men crossed to the fireside and 
 stood talking while Deane and Lee affixed their 
 signatures. Then congratulations and engagements 
 to secrecy were made all around, Gerard politely 
 took his leave, and, subject to ratification, France 
 and the United States were allies. 
 
 The concealment enshrouding the Franco-Ameri- 
 can alliance did not wear well. A few weeks, and 
 the whole matter was an open secret in France, 
 though it would be long before America could hear 
 of it. The French received the news joyfully. And 
 now, with the United States recognized as an inde- 
 pendent nation, and as an ally, it was proper that 
 its representatives should have formal presentation 
 at the French court. This function was set for 
 March 20, 1778. 
 
 Appreciating the importance that European 
 courts attached to the formality of dress at this 
 ceremonial, the American envoys set out to conform 
 to custom. Possibly Deane and Lee succeeded 
 fairly well. In dressing on that eventful day each 
 topped out his court garb with the regulation 
 powdered wig and the regulation sword. 
 
 But the old Doctor, and most fortunately, did
 
 BIRTH OF AMERICAN DIPLOMACY 63 
 
 not mold well into court form. The plain black 
 velvet suit he put on that morning with the snowy 
 ruffles at wrist and bosom, the white silk stockings, 
 and the shoes with silver buckles was all very well 
 in its way, but that way was not the way of the 
 French court; and as to other details of dress, he 
 shaped still less into a court figure. True, a wig, 
 that all-important adjunct, had been duly ordered. 
 Indeed, as the scene comes down to us, there in 
 Franklin's dressing-room stood a famous Parisian 
 perruquier, about to put the wig on the great head 
 of the American. But a moment more, and the 
 perruquier was in a passion, and the wig was on 
 the floor. 
 
 "Is it too small?" placidly inquired the Doctor. 
 
 "Too small!" exclaimed the offended artist. 
 "No! Mon Dieu! It is not the wig which is too 
 small, Monsieur, but your head which is too large !" 
 
 So the great head was left in the simple dignity 
 of its own silver locks. And simplicity, once domi- 
 nant, held sway over the remainder of the Doctor's 
 toilet: when all was complete, under his arm was 
 no formal chapeau; dangling at his side was no 
 formal sword. Perhaps the first instance in the 
 long story of heralds and kings in which an envoy 
 about to approach a sovereign stood virtually in 
 his every-day garb. 
 
 In separate carriages the three commissioners, 
 each with attendants, entered Versailles. They
 
 64 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 drove into the forecourt of the palace through an 
 applauding press of people, and alighted at the 
 south wing where they were received by Vergennes, 
 who conducted them to the king's antechamber. 
 Their progress was accompanied with ovation, the 
 frank tribute of the artificial, sophisticated court to 
 the simple dignity of these republicans. 
 
 A few minutes of waiting, and then the doors of 
 an adjoining room were thrown open. Here was 
 a surprise and a shock for Mr. Arthur Lee. He 
 had got a wrong notion of a court presentation. 
 While he may not have been expecting the king to 
 greet him from the imperial throne, he evidently 
 was expecting to be received with some state and 
 ceremony. And now "a dressing-room"! and 
 some nobles acting as valets to a half -garbed young 
 man with his "undressed hair hanging down on his 
 shoulders" ! Mr. Lee could not quite get over what 
 he took to be an offensive lack of respect for the 
 august envoys from the United States. He did not 
 know that they were being honored in the customary 
 form of presentation at the court of Versailles, and 
 almost as though they were the regularly accredited 
 ambassadors of a first-class power. The "dressing- 
 room" was the magnificent apartment once used as 
 the royal bedchamber, and now for the ceremony 
 of the king's robing and levee. The half-garbed 
 young man with the undressed hair was a rather 
 big fellow, not tall, but stocky, and about twenty-
 
 BIRTH OF AMERICAN DIPLOMACY 65 
 
 five years old. He had a good look, a Roman nose, 
 and the throne of France. 
 
 Vergennes advanced and presented the American 
 envoys. The king received them graciously, ex- 
 pressing his approval of them personally, and his 
 friendship for the United States. 
 
 They were next to be presented to the queen and 
 to the other members of the royal family. Doubt- 
 less they feared more the appraising glances of gaily 
 critical Marie Antoinette and the court beauties 
 about her than they had the short-sighted gaze of 
 Louis XVI. 
 
 They entered a noble room of white and gold, 
 its walls set with great mirrors that reflectingly 
 multiplied the elaborate decorations in marbles, 
 bronzes, and paintings. Just now visions of still 
 more showy figures were being caught and flashed 
 from glass to glass, the elaborately gowned ladies 
 of the court, with the majestic queen among them. 
 
 With all her faults (and they have been cruelly 
 exaggerated), Marie Antoinette was every inch a 
 queen. As she stood there within the vision of the 
 American envoys, she must almost have reconciled 
 those republicans to some aspects of royalty. In 
 physique she was essentially queenly, though at that 
 time she was scarcely more than a girl. Taller than 
 any of her ladies in waiting, she was of fine figure 
 with a naturally regal air. Beauty of countenance 
 she may not have had, an aquiline nose detracting
 
 66 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 somewhat in this respect even while adding to her 
 commanding appearance; but her gray eyes were 
 bright and full of expression, her light hair was 
 very beautiful, and her complexion was of dazzling 
 fairness. 
 
 In point of dress, the young queen and her ladies 
 would more than make up for any lack on the part 
 of the king. Court gowns of eight-yard spread 
 swept the floor, and great head-dresses of flowers 
 and gauze and ribbons towered high above the 
 powdered heads. When the envoys approached, the 
 queen received them graciously. 
 
 The Franco-American alliance quickly ended 
 diplomatic relations between France and England. 
 The English minister left Paris bound for London, 
 and without stopping to pay his respects to the 
 French king, a step fraught with grave significance. 
 Paris laughed. 
 
 France lost not a moment in preparing to go to 
 the aid of her ally. As secretly as possible, for she 
 would still keep knowledge of her movements from 
 Great Britain, she got ready her ships of war. It 
 was a formidable fleet for those days that was soon 
 assembled in the fortified harbor of Toulon on the 
 Mediterranean. The command was given to a dis- 
 tant relative of Lafayette, the Comte d'Estaing. 
 
 On March 31, two men secretly left Paris for 
 Toulon. They were Silas Deane, who had been 
 recalled to America, and Monsieur Gerard, who had
 
 BIRTH OF AMERICAN DIPLOMACY 67 
 
 been appointed Minister from France to the United 
 States. They were to ship with D'Estaing; but, to 
 conceal their intentions and to avoid betraying the 
 plans of the French admiral, they left Paris sur- 
 reptitiously and traveled by different routes to 
 Toulon, where the fleet was now nearly ready to sail. 
 On the same day there arrived at the French 
 seaport Bordeaux a short, stout man of the restless, 
 impetuous type, the noted American statesman 
 John Adams now come to France to take Deane's 
 place. In point of patriotism, integrity, and general 
 intellectual ability, Congress could not have sent a 
 better man; in point of temperament, training, and 
 tactfulness, they could not have sent a worse one. 
 Self -centered and aggressive, he was bound to be a 
 failure as a diplomat at any court, preeminently so 
 at the court of Versailles. But nobody could have 
 made John Adams believe that, and confidently this 
 great but misplaced man set out for Paris, where 
 he arrived on April 8. His coming did not improve 
 matters at the American embassy. An intense, 
 driving worker, a methodical man of red tape and 
 pigeonholes what a diplomatic bedfellow for 
 Benjamin Franklin, who took work lightly, who 
 loved to visit and to dine out, and whose papers 
 were all over the floor ! Strive as the two men both 
 would and did, courteous tolerance was to be their 
 nearest approach to ambassadorial harmony. And 
 as of course Lee remained Lee, the last estate of
 
 68 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 this American commission was worse than the first. 
 
 One day about the middle of that April of 1778, 
 there was bustle and excitement in the harbor of 
 Toulon. The French fleet was getting under way. 
 Majestically the great ships spread their wings, 
 tacked off between the headlands, and passed out 
 to sea. 
 
 At last France was to strike for America. No 
 more mere covert recognition, no more mere secret 
 aid. With the arrival of this armament on the other 
 side of the Atlantic, the last veil of diplomatic 
 temporizing would be torn away. Open alliance 
 between Louis XVI and the American republic 
 would be voiced in the roar of French guns.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE DAYS OF VALLEY FORGE 
 
 TURN backward now, and from France to 
 America. Turn from the warm spring day 
 that witnessed the sailing of the French fleet, back 
 to that bleak December day when we left a little 
 American army seeking winter shelter and ending 
 its bloody trail at the wind-swept hills of Valley 
 Forge. The days on those hills must be lived. 
 
 First came an order for the building of huts, an 
 order received by the half-famished, shivering men 
 as a requirement almost beyond them. However, 
 they went bravely to work. If one needed encour- 
 agement, he had only to look across the hillside 
 to where a plain little tent was straining against 
 the wintry blast. Within that frail shelter lived and 
 toiled the American commander-in-chief, refusing 
 better quarters until his soldiers too could have 
 them. 
 
 In the midst of cold and snow the army worked 
 on. Axes rang in the great forests, and logs were 
 cut and hauled. In regular rows the little huts 
 began to rise. But it was slow, painful work, the 
 
 69
 
 70 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 men's strength lessening as food became more 
 scarce, sickness more common, and the weather 
 more severe. Christmas came cold, and the snow 
 falling. An ideal Christmas for the snug British 
 in Philadelphia, but a bitter mockery for the shel- 
 terless patriots at Valley Forge! 
 
 Slowly the work went on. Horses, as ill fed as 
 their drivers fell in their work of drawing logs from 
 the forest, and lay down in the snow and died. 
 Then men dragged the logs through the drifts, and 
 their feet and legs froze, and the surgeon's knife 
 and saw were the only remedy. The ragged clothes 
 in which the troops reached this winter camp wore 
 out in the heavy work, and, scant supplies coming 
 to replace them, the soldiers were soon half -naked 
 in the snow. Still the huts rose slowly, and pos- 
 sibly the spirits of the army with them. Each hut 
 was fourteen by fifteen feet, the spaces between the 
 logs filled with clay, and the openings for windows 
 covered with oiled paper. Early in the new year 
 most of the soldiers were housed in these rude build- 
 ings, fourteen men in each hut. 
 
 Now there disappeared that frail, wind-blown 
 shelter of the commander-in-chief. Down by the 
 river where Valley Creek emptied in stood a stone 
 building, the house of Isaac Potts, and Washington 
 took this stout little house for his headquarters. 
 Some distance up the creek was another substantial 
 home, owned by John Harvard, and this came to
 
 THE DAYS OF VALLEY FORGE 71 
 
 be the headquarters of Lafayette. Temptation was 
 strong for the marquis to spend the winter in 
 France. Even a baby daughter was there that he 
 had never seen, little Anastasia, born shortly after 
 he left home. But he stayed to share the hardships 
 of Valley Forge. "Everything told me to depart," 
 he wrote to his wife; "honor told me to remain." 
 
 In the gloom of those winter days, Washington 
 and Lafayette drew yet closer in their intimacy. 
 One January day the two friends were sitting to- 
 gether in Washington's headquarters. A package 
 of papers arrived from York, where Congress 
 was then in session. Washington opened and read 
 what was an insult to him as Commander-in-Chief 
 of the American Army. 
 
 The papers in his hand revealed the power of the 
 political cabal opposed to him. Congress had 
 created a new army, the Army of the North ; which 
 was to be independent, not in any way under control 
 of the commander-in-chief . One of his own officers 
 was to be in supreme command of this new army; 
 and that officer, the devoted young friend sitting 
 there beside him. Indeed, that was the crux of the 
 whole affair, the separation of Washington and 
 Lafayette. 
 
 Such separation was important in furthering the 
 purpose of the cabal against Washington. Lafay- 
 ette was a man to be reckoned with in almost any 
 movement affecting the American army. A ro-
 
 72 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 mantic figure in the conflict, he had a warm place in 
 the hearts of the soldiers, and was looked upon 
 almost as the representative of France. The cabal 
 could not win his support ; it must do all possible to 
 deprive Washington of it. 
 
 We can see the quiet Washington, hurt but un- 
 showing, sitting there with his quick-eyed, ardent 
 young friend, before the open fire that winter day. 
 What thoughts were his! His long service and 
 sacrifice; the turning from him because he could 
 not accomplish the impossible; and now, this at- 
 tempt to lure away from him the devoted but 
 ambitious young Frenchman whom he had come to 
 love as a son. How clearly he saw through the 
 whole miserable scheme! Among the papers was 
 one for Lafayette, his commission as commander 
 of the Army of the North. Washington turned and 
 handed it to him without a word. 
 
 At first Lafayette's eager mind caught only the 
 idea of active service, and the honor of command. 
 He was to march into Canada, that fair province 
 of France that she had lost to England; fight the 
 British, and rouse the Canadians to join in the 
 struggle for American liberty. What a glorious 
 undertaking for a son of France, to be the libera- 
 tor of French America! 
 
 But was something wrong? The boy soldier 
 read more carefully. When he realized that this 
 flattering honor to him was an insult to his chief,
 
 THE DAYS OF VALLEY FORGE 73 
 
 Lafayette's heroic vision vanished. He* hotly de- 
 clared that he would not accept the appointment. 
 Washington advised otherwise. The Army of the 
 North had been created. Nothing could help that 
 now. And to whom could Washington more safely 
 trust its command than to Lafayette? Dearer to 
 the marquis than the enticing commission was the 
 simple tribute of confidence: "I would rather they 
 had selected you for this than any other man." 
 Lafayette insisted upon being subordinate to Gen- 
 eral Washington and regarded as one of his officers 
 detached for special service. This condition was 
 acceded to, and he accepted the appointment. 
 
 Albany, New York, was to be the starting-point 
 of his expedition; and up the steep hill of that old 
 Dutch town, one February day, rode Lafayette, 
 buoyant with visions of glorious service for the 
 liberty of America and the honor of France. But 
 the glamor quickly faded. There was no Army of 
 the North, just a few hundred men, ragged, ill-fed, 
 sick, and mutinous. There were no munitions. 
 There was no money. The expedition into Canada 
 was impossible! 
 
 The situation was one we may never quite under- 
 stand. Perhaps the cabal at York had not 
 really intended this expedition to go forward. In 
 any event, it served its main purpose of taking 
 Lafayette from the side of the commander-in-chief. 
 Amazed at the utter cpllapse of the project, chafing
 
 74 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 at his own helplessness, the marquis was left with 
 no further support from Congress. He would have 
 been more content had he known the change that 
 was taking place in that body. The strength of the 
 cabal against Washington was waning in the face 
 of a growing popular faith in him. In the end 
 Congress announced that the expedition into 
 Canada was impracticable, and directed Lafayette 
 to return to the main army. 
 
 It was a most welcome order to the disgusted 
 Commander of the Army of the North. And so, 
 on a day in April, he came riding again into the 
 camp at Valley Forge, making very straight for the 
 little stone house down by the river, where he found 
 Washington and a warm welcome. He found also 
 a new member in the household. The general must 
 have had much satisfaction in presenting the ele- 
 gant, courtly Frenchman to "Lady Washington," as 
 even democratic America called the wife of its 
 commander-in-chief. A very good continental bow 
 (Lafayette could never quite make the best) and 
 then a lasting friendship began between the hostess 
 of headquarters and the "French boy," as she 
 always called him. 
 
 How little she seemed beside her lordly husband ! 
 Very sober in her quiet brown dress, relieved only 
 by the spotless white at her throat. Her brown 
 eyes, too, were sober now, as though catching a 
 shadow from Valley Forge.
 
 THE DAYS OF VALLEY FORGE 75 
 
 Out through the camp the marquis saw 'changes. 
 There was something of springtime awakening; 
 something of heart and hope showing through the 
 gloom, like stirring buds under the dead leaves of 
 the woodland. For the past two or three weeks a 
 sufficiency of food and considerable clothing had 
 been reaching the camp ; and the soldiers, what there 
 were left of them, showed for it. 
 
 But the greatest change of all this returning 
 officer observed at manceuvers. He had left the 
 American army virtually an untrained mob. Al- 
 most unbelievable was the undisciplined nature of 
 that brave soldiery. They knew about as much of 
 the manual of arms as a sheriff's posse. They seem 
 always to have been so busy fighting that they could 
 not stop to learn how to fight. 
 
 France saw all this from across the Atlantic. 
 And while Lafayette was away she (without letting 
 her agency be known in the matter) secured the 
 appointment by Congress of a certain Baron von 
 Steuben as Inspector-General of the American 
 army. Von Steuben was perhaps no great military 
 genius, but he was a remarkable man, and with 
 consummate knowledge of military organization, 
 acquired under Frederick the Great. Now for some 
 weeks this efficient drill-master had been training 
 the raw Americans. Well, Lafayette would scarcely 
 know his own division. To his eye, as to Von 
 Steuben's, accustomed to the accuracy of European
 
 76 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 manceuvers, there was yet room for criticism; but 
 as compared with the untrained army he had so 
 lately left, these were crack troops. 
 
 The month of May came in, bringing great joy 
 to Valley Forge. Word reached the camp on Sat- 
 urday, May 2, that treaties creating an alliance had 
 been signed by France and the United States. That 
 glorious news was received with such rejoicing as 
 almost to banish the memory of a winter of misery. 
 
 Washington set Wednesday, May 6, as a time of 
 celebration. And they made a full day of it. There 
 was much parading, every man in his tattered best, 
 bands playing, officers leading proudly upon pranc- 
 ing steeds. The deafening fire of musketry ran 
 back and forth across the lines. Cannon flashed 
 and roared. And now and then, at a signal gun, 
 rose the greater joyous voice of the soldiery: 
 "Huzza, for the American States! Long live the 
 King of France!" In this day of celebration 
 Lafayette carried a divided heart. It was a day of 
 personal triumph for him; the cause that he had 
 championed in opposition to his king, that king had 
 now pledged all France to support. But he had 
 just learned of the death of his little Henriette; 
 and with that affliction stabbing he joined in cele- 
 brating the alliance of France and America. 
 
 With the advance of spring, very different grew 
 that life at Valley Forge. The month of May 
 brought brightness and warmth, and there was an
 
 THE DAYS OF VALLEY FORGE 77 
 
 ample supply of food. Men who, such a little while 
 ago, were huddling about their fires, cold, famished, 
 despairing, were now comfortable, well fed, and 
 romping in the sunshine. There were a few more 
 days yet to be spent upon those hills, but the camp 
 life of exposure and suffering was over, that 
 tragic camp life that carried a shiver into history.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE SWORD MEDALLION, "BARREN HILL*' 
 
 IT was in that spring of 1778 that Sir Henry 
 Clinton arrived in Philadelphia to succeed Lord 
 Howe. At once there were indications of some 
 intended movement of importance by the British. 
 From such information as Washington could gain, 
 he surmised that they were about to evacuate the 
 city. Whether this was actually their purpose, and 
 if so whether the evacuation would be for attack 
 or for retreat, there was no way of telling. Wash- 
 ington concluded to send out a considerable detach- 
 ment toward Philadelphia, as a security to his own 
 camp, as a means of obtaining intelligence, and as 
 an advance body ready to fall upon the enemy's rear 
 should their retreat make that practicable. 
 
 He selected for this purpose some of his best 
 troops, about 2500 men, and gave the command to 
 Lafayette. That was a marked and indeed a sur- 
 prising exhibition of Washington's confidence in 
 that young officer. The expedition was more 
 important than many involving vastly larger forces. 
 It also was especially dangerous. That the com- 
 mander-in-chief appreciated all this was shown by 
 
 78
 
 "BARREN HILL" 79 
 
 his instructions to Lafayette, and by the particular 
 admonition, "You will remember that your detach- 
 ment is a very valuable one, and that any accident 
 happening to it would be a very severe blow to this 
 army." 
 
 On the morning of May 18 the expedition left 
 Valley Forge. How proud the tall, slender young 
 Frenchman as he marched his little army off the 
 parade-ground, and rode down the slope with his 
 "old Continentals in their ragged regimentals"! 
 How straight the blue-coated back, how square the 
 shoulders under the gold epaulettes, how full the 
 chest under the purple ribbon of his rank, all with 
 the thought that the quiet eyes of a majestic figure 
 were following him with paternal interest and 
 pride! 
 
 With the flower of the American army, Lafay- 
 ette marched down along the Schuylkill that May 
 morning. Over rocky slopes, through dark valleys, 
 and upon winding forest roads he proceeded about 
 five miles, to a shallow in the river called Swede's 
 Ford. Here he crossed the stream and took the 
 Ridge Road leading toward Philadelphia. March- 
 ing on into the afternoon, he doubtless heard 
 cannonading ahead in the direction of the city, 
 which would excite his interest and perhaps wonder- 
 ment. The British were having in honor of the 
 retiring Lord Howe a demonstration which they 
 called the Mischianza.
 
 80 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Could Lafayette have looked in upon the Quaker 
 town, he would have seen merrymaking almost 
 European in its elegance. The British officers, en- 
 thusiastically aided (How strange it sounds!) by 
 many of the fashionable residents of the city, made 
 that afternoon and night a brilliant, and at times 
 somewhat unbridled, round of gaiety. And all in 
 honor of a British general who had accomplished 
 nothing. 
 
 By the next day Lafayette reached a small eleva- 
 tion called Barren Hill, midway between Valley 
 Forge and Philadelphia. Here he took up a position 
 from which to begin his operations. It was a posi- 
 tion well chosen. His center rested upon a rocky 
 ledge, over which his five little cannon were soon 
 poking their noses defiantly southward toward the 
 city; his right reached to the protection of the 
 river; and his left to that of a wood and several 
 strong stone houses. His pickets were well out in 
 all directions. Behind him were open avenues of 
 retreat for recrossing the Schuylkill; one along 
 the road just traversed, back to Swede's Ford, and 
 others leading to a lower ford, called Matson's Ford. 
 So situated, the Americans were as well off as a 
 detached force could expect to be, thrown forward 
 in the face of the enemy. 
 
 Now Lafayette lost no 'time in getting to work 
 upon one of the main objects of his expedition, the 
 obtaining of information as to the intentions of the
 
 "BARREN HILL" 81 
 
 enemy. He found a young woman who was willing 
 to go into Philadelphia for intelligence, under the 
 pretense of visiting her relatives. Upon the morn- 
 ing of May 20 he was just giving her his final 
 instructions, when a messenger came hurrying with 
 news that put an end to plans of that sort. 
 
 All this time the British had not been idle. Their 
 efficient spy system had quickly advised them in 
 Philadelphia of Lafayette's every movement. And 
 so, close upon the heels of the Mischianza, they 
 had merrily planned another gala event the cap- 
 ture and humiliation of a certain young French 
 nobleman who had paid light respect to the British 
 king, sided boldly with America in English 
 drawing-rooms, danced gaily with the London 
 belles, and then blithely crossed the sea to fight for 
 the "rebels." 
 
 An elaborate plan for surrounding Lafayette was 
 devised and joyfully entered upon. Captured, he 
 should be borne into the city in mock deference, to 
 receive exaggerated courtesy and attention. To 
 complete his humiliation, he should be carried to 
 England to face London again; or, perhaps better, 
 to France, where his reputation as a gallant knight 
 would be snuffed out in laughter. 
 
 So attractive was the idea of catching the French 
 marquis, that both General Howe and General 
 Clinton determined to accompany the expedition. 
 And so gaily confident were they of his humiliation,
 
 82 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 that they arranged for a grand dinner to be given 
 upon their return, and issued invitations to a num- 
 ber of society people to meet the distinguished 
 French nobleman, the Marquis de Lafayette. 
 
 And indeed the prospect of this mock honor to 
 the youthful commander who had ventured out in 
 the face of the British army, seemed very good. A 
 complete surprise had been planned by a select force 
 four or five times as large as Lafayette's, and 
 accompanied by two of the leading generals of 
 England. 
 
 In three columns the British expedition set out 
 from Philadelphia on the night of May 19. Through 
 the darkness they stealthily advanced upon the 
 American detachment. One column proceeded 
 directly toward Barren Hill, and took a stand in 
 front of Lafayette's position. The second column 
 marched to a point on the Schuylkill near his right 
 wing. The third column moved rapidly around his 
 left wing, so as to gain his rear and cut him off 
 from the roads by which he could retreat to the 
 fords, and so back across the river to Valley Forge. 
 
 All went well with the British, surprisingly well. 
 Even the column seeking to pass around Lafayette's 
 left, and so gain the rear of his position, accom- 
 plished its purpose readily and without finding even 
 an American outpost to obstruct the road it was 
 traversing. Yet Lafayette had placed a strong body 
 of militia to guard that very road. For some reason
 
 "BARREN HILL" 83 
 
 that body of militia had seen fit to desert its post 
 and to go to the rear. 
 
 Morning came and the Americans were virtually 
 surrounded. It was then, as Lafayette was starting 
 the girl spy for Philadelphia, that the hurrying 
 messenger broke the news that the redcoats were 
 upon him. Unaccountable as this seemed to him, 
 knowing nothing of his guard's desertion, yet he 
 instantly sent out a party to reconnoiter. Back 
 came word of the approach in more than one 
 direction. The cry arose among the troops that 
 they were surrounded! 
 
 It was a situation to tax an older head than 
 Lafayette's. But no older one could possibly have 
 improved upon his prompt measures. He met the 
 cry of the men with a reassuring calm, and even 
 with a heartening smile. Without a moment's 
 hesitation he wheeled his troops to a changed front, 
 with all the appearance of an intended attack 
 against the British on his left. He was playing for 
 time. For, although the principal roads of retreat 
 to the fords were already cut off by the British, 
 there was a little road running under a ridge along 
 the river by which Matson's Ford might yet be 
 reached, if the enemy could be kept from farther 
 advance. 
 
 And Lafayette's show of attack held them. Soon 
 it was a very thin show; for back of a sparse line 
 in front, he was rapidly sending his troops down
 
 84 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 the little road to Matson's Ford. Further deceiving 
 the British by having small bodies of men show 
 themselves here and there in the woods, to appear 
 like heads of marching columns, he kept the enemy 
 hesitating to attack him until too late. At length, 
 having successfully covered the retreat of the main 
 body, the marquis gathered up his handful of last 
 defenders and withdrew down the little road him- 
 self. Pursuit of course followed, but too late. 
 Safely across the Schuylkill, and in a commanding 
 position on the heights, the Americans challenged 
 further action. The young French nobleman, who 
 was to have been the drawing guest at that dinner 
 in Philadelphia, had declined the invitation. 
 
 The British glared across the river at Lafayette's 
 position, afraid to attack, and then marched 
 back to Philadelphia. Upon Lafayette's safe return 
 to Valley Forge with his detachment, he was re- 
 ceived with acclamations. Washington had early 
 learned of the movement against the Americans, 
 and had suffered much apprehension. Riding in 
 hot speed to a hill summit, he had trained his glass 
 anxiously upon Lafayette's position. Now with 
 relief and pride he welcomed his young general 
 who had saved the flower of the army by a presence 
 of mind and a ready skill that would have done 
 credit to a veteran officer. And once more, in re- 
 porting to Congress, the commander-in-chief took
 
 "BARREN HILL" 85 
 
 occasion to mention with distinction the Marquis 
 de Lafayette. 
 
 And once more the boy general had made copy 
 for the graver's tool. Upon that sword that America 
 was to present to this Knight of France would be 
 represented the incident of Barren Hill. A rath.-: 
 considerable military event in its clever handling 
 of troops, and one that has earned for Lafayette 
 high praise, and yet no great affair. No, again we 
 must look beyond what carved lines show. To 
 catch the spirit of the sword we must see not only 
 the courage and the strategy of Barren Hill, but 
 the noble service of those days that led up to Barren 
 Hill. We must catch the picture of a mere boy 
 standing loyally by the weak and oppressed of an 
 alien land, through winter days so dark that bravest 
 hearts lost hope ; we must see him turning from the 
 lure of home and luxurious ease to share sufferings 
 from which Americans themselves fled in scores, 
 the horrors of Valley Forge.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE SWORD MEDALLION, "MONMOUTH" 
 
 ABOUT the middle of June, 1778, came the 
 movement on the part of the enemy that 
 Washington long had been expecting. The British 
 fleet dropped down the Delaware and sailed, as it 
 proved, for New York; while Clinton with his 
 army abandoned the city, crossed the river to the 
 Jersey shore, and set out upon a long hard march 
 for the same destination. Washington was ready 
 for pursuit. Quickly the American army at Valley 
 Forge was put in motion ; some of it so quickly that 
 half-baked bread was left in the ovens, as the men 
 marched down the slopes and over the improvised 
 bridge across the Schuylkill. 
 
 It was determined that an advance corps of about 
 five thousand men should harass the retreating 
 enemy, the remainder of the army following within 
 supporting distance. Naturally the command of 
 the important advance corps was offered by Wash- 
 ington to the highest officer under him, General Lee. 
 Lee declined it, ostensibly because he did not favor 
 the plan of operations, and the command was then 
 given to Lafayette. 
 
 86
 
 "MONMOUTH" 87 
 
 The young general set out upon the enterprise 
 with great enthusiasm. It was all to his liking. 
 The position given to him at the head of the "flying 
 army" was a flattering one. It meant fighting, and 
 fighting was what he was there for. He pressed 
 eagerly forward, and was almost upon the British, 
 even preparing his attack, when he was suddenly 
 stripped of his dream of glory. The trouble was 
 simply that Lee changed his mind. He concluded 
 that he wished the command of the "flying army" 
 after all. He applied both to Washington and to 
 Lafayette. He represented that he had made a 
 mistake, and that he saw he should be disgraced 
 were he not in command of this important advance 
 army. Appealing to Lafayette, he said, "I place 
 my fortune and my honor in your hands; you are 
 too generous to destroy both the one and the other." 
 
 It was a bitter moment for Lafayette, but one 
 that he met with his characteristic chivalry. Con- 
 fident of success, sword raised to strike, he stayed 
 his arm, and relinquished his authority to Lee. 
 That officer took command on June 27 ; the marquis 
 now under him, and with little chance of distin- 
 guishing himself. That night the British were 
 encamped near a small village called Freehold, in 
 central New Jersey, where was the court-house of 
 Monmouth County. Here they occupied a strong 
 position. Lee with his detachment was within about 
 five miles of them, and Washington with the main
 
 88 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 American army some two or three miles behind 
 him. Lee was now under orders from the com- 
 mander-in-chief to attack the enemy as soon as they 
 should leave their strong position and resume their 
 march. This they did on the morning of June 28, 
 and Lee pressed forward to attack. 
 
 The true story of the ensuing battle, called the 
 battle of Monmouth, will never be told. Although 
 the action has been well threshed over, owing to 
 the court-martial proceedings against Lee for his 
 conduct that day, yet much remains in a confusing 
 fog of contradiction and uncertainty. 
 
 In general, it was this way. It was Sunday, and 
 a day to be remembered for its heat and sultriness. 
 The long red line of the English toiled over 
 the sandy road. Out from a wood came Lee's de- 
 tachment to fall upon the enemy's left flank and 
 rear. Back of him Washington was coming up 
 with the main army. The English did not tamely 
 wait for Lee's onslaught. Quickly countermarching 
 and deploying, they also formed to attack. How- 
 ever, all things were propitious for the success of 
 Lee's forces. And then, before the occurrence of 
 anything more than a slight engagement at one or 
 two points, the Americans were thrown into utter 
 confusion from lack of proper command. Lee, by 
 vague and conflicting orders, soon had his detach- 
 ment broken up into small parties, ordered forward 
 here, and backward there, without any of his
 
 "MONMOUTH" 89 
 
 officers understanding the purpose of the action, if 
 there were any. Soon most of the commands were 
 left unsupported in positions from which they were 
 forced to retire. 
 
 Lafayette, making the most strenuous efforts to 
 strike effectively with his command, was so re- 
 stricted by his orders, and by lack of support, he 
 could accomplish nothing. He vainly protested that 
 a stand should be made; and at length became so 
 suspicious of Lee that he sent in all haste a despatch 
 from the field to Washington. It is said that when 
 he was still forced to fall back, one of his aides was 
 shot by his side, and that the marquis coolly dis- 
 mounted under fire, and stopped to make sure that 
 the man was beyond succor. At length Lee had 
 his whole command in rapid and somewhat dis- 
 orderly retreat. 
 
 It was now that Washington, coming up with 
 the main body of his army, reached the field. He was 
 amazed and indignant upon beholding Lee's broken 
 and fleeing detachment His meeting with that 
 officer was a stormy one. But there was no time 
 to be lost. A scathing reprimand, and then the com- 
 mander-in-chief turned quickly to the work of 
 saving the day. He seized upon an advantageous 
 position, checked the retreat, and reformed enough 
 of Lee's force to hold the ground until he could 
 bring the main army into action. This he did to
 
 90 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 excellent advantage, confidently placing part of the 
 troops under Lafayette. 
 
 Time after time, the pursuing English now threw 
 themselves against the American position. But the 
 tide of battle had turned. They were repulsed at 
 every point, and finally were driven back some 
 distance before darkness closed the engagement. 
 That night the Americans lay upon their arms 
 ready to resume the offensive in the morning. Upon 
 the same cloak, at the foot of a tree, lay Washington 
 and Lafayette. There was little sleep for them. 
 They discussed earnestly the conduct of Lee. Quite 
 likely, in their anger and disappointment, they 
 somewhat over-blamed the man. Much as he was 
 at fault, there seem to have been some things in 
 extenuation of his conduct that they could not then 
 understand; and possibly there was not actual 
 treachery on his part that day, however much of a 
 traitor he may later have been. But that night, how 
 could any condemnation seem too strong? While 
 Washington had saved the situation, turning defeat 
 into victory, and hoped to do more in the morning, 
 yet the grand opportunity had been lost, lost by a 
 trusted officer's "shameful retreat." 
 
 The hot dawn of the next day brought disap- 
 pointment. During the night, so quietly that not 
 even the American advance posts learned of his 
 movements, Clinton had withdrawn his army in the 
 darkness. He was now too far on his way for
 
 "MONMOUTH" 91 
 
 further attack. He soon completed his long march 
 to New York; while the Americans could do no 
 more for the present than to follow and to occupy 
 near-by strategic points. 
 
 Had Lafayette continued in command, it is almost 
 certain that he would have led to victory. But 
 would that have made more nobly symbolic the 
 carved medallion, "Battle of Monmouth," soon to 
 find place on that sword from Congress? His real 
 victory, his honors, lay back of that battle in his 
 generous and graceful sacrifice of leadership. This 
 medallion on the sword may well stand as a tribute 
 to the boy's chivalry.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE SWORD MEDALLION, "RHODE ISLAND" 
 
 THERE now began a new period of the Ameri- 
 can Revolution. It opened on July 7, 1778, 
 when, out from the gray haze of the Atlantic, 
 loomed sail after sail after sail! France was com- 
 ing! That night a splendid battle fleet of His Most 
 Christian Majesty, Louis XVI, lay at anchor in 
 Delaware Bay. 
 
 From that moment a new strength, and a new 
 weakness too, were added to the patriot cause. 
 Thereafter America and France fought side by side ; 
 but often with so much of misunderstanding and bit- 
 terness between them as to threaten their own 
 defeat. The racial troubles began early. Nothing 
 breeds friction between co-workers like ill-success. 
 The French fleet met disappointment at the outset. 
 Its admiral, the Comte d'Estaing, came counting 
 upon catching the British fleet in the Delaware. 
 He found that it had escaped and was now in the 
 harbor of New York. He at once sailed up the 
 coast, but because some of his ships were of too 
 
 deep draught to go over the bar, or because the 
 
 92
 
 "RHODE ISLAND" 93 
 
 English vessels commanded the channel, he could 
 not enter for an engagement. 
 
 Washington hastened to propose another under- 
 taking. At that time Newport, Rhode Island, was 
 occupied by the British. Washington felt that its 
 capture would force the English to evacuate New 
 York. Preparations were at once begun for a joint 
 attack. Washington ordered Major-General Sulli- 
 van to assemble militia near the town, and sent to 
 him a strong detachment of his own best troops, 
 part under Greene and part under Lafayette. Upon 
 July 29, 1778, the French fleet cast anchor off New- 
 port. Generals Sullivan and Lafayette and some 
 other American officers went aboard the flag-ship. 
 
 At once difficulties arose. D'Estaing and Sulli- 
 van did not agree, especially as to the use of the 
 French troops to be landed from the fleet. Under 
 a thin veil of courtesy was unfortunate racial an- 
 tagonism. France and America had such divergent 
 standards and traditions that Europe from the first 
 had doubted their ability to act in concert. At any 
 rate, here at the outset, they seemed about to fail. 
 Likely but for Lafayette they would have done so. 
 Back and forth he went between camp and flag-ship, 
 explaining here, counseling there, and in every way 
 seeking to further harmony. 
 
 He was successful, and finally all was ready for 
 action. On August 8, D'Estaing's fleet sailed in 
 before the little island on which Newport stood,
 
 94 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 and which had the same name as the whole state, 
 Rhode Island. On the ninth the Americans ad- 
 vanced upon the island, behind the town. All was 
 propitious until about two o'clock on that Sunday 
 afternoon, when the lifting of a fog that had hung 
 about the town all day dashed the hopes of the 
 allies. Suddenly, down from the lookout at the 
 masthead of D'Estaing's flag-ship came a warning 
 cry. A large fleet of war vessels, which proved to 
 be the British fleet from New York, was standing 
 in toward Newport. The French sailed out to sea 
 to meet it A violent storm came up, and raged 
 furiously for two days. The fleets were separated, 
 scattered, and dismantled. 
 
 On the evening of the nineteenth, the Americans 
 were rejoiced to see D'Estaing's returning vessels 
 approaching the town. But, still another disap- 
 pointment! The French fleet dropped anchor out- 
 side the harbor. From the admiral came a com- 
 munication informing Sullivan that his ships were 
 so storm-shattered, he must go at once to Boston to 
 refit. That was a hard blow to the Americans ; and 
 they received the statement with some incredulity 
 and even suspicion. Sullivan turned to Lafayette, 
 hoping that he might induce D'Estaing to refit at 
 Newport, and proceed with the attack upon the 
 town. 
 
 It was a delicate and painful position for Lafay- 
 ette. He took boat, with Greene and several other
 
 "RHODE ISLAND" 95 
 
 officers, and went aboard the French flag- ship. But 
 he wholly failed to change the views of the French 
 admiral. Now the feelings of the Americans 
 against the French ran high. Much of their criti- 
 cism was unreasonable, and all of it impolitic and 
 unfortunate. They had no sufficient knowledge of 
 the facts to enable them rightly to judge D'Estaing's 
 course, nor have we to-day ; but they allowed disap- 
 pointment and suspicion to goad them into looks 
 and talk that seriously threatened rupture of our 
 alliance with France. 
 
 Doubtless the trouble would have blown over if 
 Sullivan had been a Washington. But, though an 
 honorable and efficient officer, he was hasty and 
 tactless. He sent a protest to D'Estaing, and is- 
 sued a general order to the army, each of which 
 contained an imputation of desertion on the part 
 of the French. At this, Lafayette broke through 
 his restraint, and answered in language he had never 
 expected to use toward Americans. In the heat of 
 the moment he cried that he was ready to support 
 his words with his sword. Indeed, as between him 
 and Sullivan, a duel seemed at one time inevitable. 
 
 But in the end much good sense was shown on 
 all sides. The American officers, impatient and ir- 
 ritated as they were over the failure of the expedi- 
 tion, sought to explain and to soften the situation 
 for the young Frenchman, even Sullivan making a 
 clumsy sort of retraction; while Lafayette, sore at
 
 96 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 heart but loyal, never faltered in his faithful service 
 to America. Indeed, we next see him upon another 
 mission, at the request of Sullivan, to intercede for 
 the patriot army this time bearing the request to 
 D'Estaing at Boston that the fleet's land troops, 
 anyway, be sent back to Newport. 
 
 This journey to Boston was an especially dis- 
 tasteful one to Lafayette, for he felt that he was 
 leaving the army just when fighting was imminent. 
 But he set out at once. And the speed of his re- 
 markable ride told of his zeal to accomplish his 
 mission and to get back to the front. In the darkness 
 of night, he rode from Newport to Boston, some- 
 thing over seventy miles as he went, in seven hours ! 
 And the same zeal that he showed in the saddle, he 
 showed in his meeting with the French admiral. 
 The boy's impassioned appeal was successful. 
 D'Estaing agreed to send his land troops to the 
 aid of Sullivan. 
 
 But it was now too late. One moment in La- 
 fayette's ears the music of D'Estaing's promise; 
 and the next, the news that Sullivan, unable to hold 
 on longer, was retreating from his position before 
 Newport. In hot haste, Lafayette again sprang to 
 the saddle. And the sting of the thought that there 
 was fighting, and he not there, brought an im- 
 petuous horseman dashing into Newport at eleven 
 o'clock that night, six and a half hours out of 
 Boston !
 
 "RHODE ISLAND" 97 
 
 He found that the Americans had been attacked 
 by the British, and had won a hotly contested battle ; 
 but that news of approaching reinforcements for 
 the English, was compelling Sullivan to retreat with 
 all haste from Rhode Island. Without a moment's 
 rest after a ride such as few men could endure, La- 
 fayette flung himself into the work of the retreat, 
 and, as .usual, into the place of greatest danger. He 
 took command of the rear-guard of the army; and 
 the last boat to cross from the island to the mainland 
 was the one that carried him. 
 
 But it carried an unhappy man. Despite his 
 having been absent on a mission at the request of 
 Sullivan, and his having made desperate rides to get 
 back to the front, the fact that he had not been there 
 in time for the battle weighed heavily upon him. 
 However, there were others who appreciated more 
 fully his services in the Newport enterprise. His 
 distress must have disappeared when he received 
 commendatory letters from Washington, and even 
 a resolution of thanks from Congress for his sacri- 
 fice in going to Boston at such a time, and for his 
 gallantry in going on the island and bringing off the 
 last of the American forces. 
 
 It was in acknowledging this tribute from Con- 
 gress that Lafayette made use of the words so often 
 quoted, and which so beautifully express his de- 
 votion to the cause of liberty, and to our struggling 
 country: "The moment I heard of America, I
 
 98 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 loved her ; the moment I knew she was fighting for 
 freedom, I burnt with a desire of bleeding for her ; 
 and the moment I shall be able to serve her at any 
 time, or in any part of the world, will be the 
 happiest one of my life." 
 
 As it turned out, the Rhode Island affair was the 
 last American military enterprise in which Lafay- 
 ette was to be engaged for some time to come, the 
 last that was to find representation upon the sword 
 he was to receive from Congress. Again a minor 
 part had been his to play; again he had played it 
 well. And through what a test of honor and fidelity ! 
 Conquering his own hot blood, he had spent himself 
 to stay the rift between France and America. We 
 may forget the young marquis's thrilling ride to 
 battle, and his brave and skilful covering of the 
 American retreat ; but we should not forget the sore- 
 tried, unwavering loyalty of the boy represented by 
 the Rhode Island medallion upon that sword from 
 Congress.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A FRENCH-AMERICAN OFFICER ON FURLOUGH 
 
 THE campaign of 1778 was virtually at an end. 
 Neither Washington nor Clinton had re- 
 sources for any further important operations. 
 D'Estaing sailed away for the West Indies. Under 
 these circumstances, Lafayette's heart turned 
 toward wife and child, and toward his country, too. 
 For now France herself was in the war, and there 
 were rumors that she was about to invade England ; 
 unless he could do better service for her where he 
 was, his place was with the battle-flag of his king. 
 After advising with Washington, Lafayette went 
 to Philadelphia about the middle of October, and 
 presented to the Congress a petition for leave of 
 absence in which he said, "I dare flatter myself that 
 I shall be looked upon as a soldier on furlough, 
 who most heartily wishes to join again his colors, 
 and his much esteemed and beloved soldiers." 
 
 It was in granting this request for leave of ab- 
 sence that Congress conferred upon Lafayette the 
 great mark of honor, the sword. It adopted a reso- 
 lution, "That the minister plenipotentiary of the 
 United States at the Court of Versailles be di- 
 
 99
 
 ioo SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 reeled to cause an elegant sword, with proper de- 
 vices, to be made and presented, in the name of the 
 United States, to the Marquis de Lafayette." 
 
 That sword Benjamin Franklin was soon to have 
 made in Paris. It was to be the sword that should 
 tell of Gloucester, and devotion to freedom; of 
 Barren Hill, and patient suffering; of Monmouth, 
 and chivalrous sacrifice ; of Rhode Island, and tested 
 loyalty. 
 
 As the news of Lafayette's intended absence 
 spread, tributes to his worth and gallantry came 
 from all sides. And such a little while before he 
 had come to our coast in the night, an unknown 
 boy, half-lost in the darkness and the wilderness 
 of a strange land. Now he was leaving that land, 
 one of the recognized leaders of its great Revolu- 
 tion, and second only to Washington in the hearts 
 of the people. 
 
 It was late in October when Lafayette left Phila- 
 delphia for Boston, at which port the Alliance, the 
 finest war vessel of the United States Navy was 
 waiting to carry him across the ocean. His ride 
 would take him by way of the American head- 
 quarters on the Hudson, and give him a few last 
 days with Washington. It proved a hard trip. 
 He was exposed to the wind and rain of most in- 
 clement weather, and to what was far more trying, 
 the ceaseless attentions of an admiring people.
 
 A FRENCH-AMERICAN OFFICER 101 
 
 Day after day, at every town through which he 
 passed, there were festivities in his honor. 
 
 At length exertion, exposure, and social strain 
 took their toll, and when the exhausted rider got 
 off his horse at the town of Fishkill, on the Hudson, 
 he was not to sit his saddle again for many a day. 
 There he succumbed to a violent illness. Fortun- 
 ately he was now near,the headquarters of his "dear 
 general," who was soon at his side. In those days, 
 men who had thought the great commander cold 
 and unfeeling, looked into his grief -stricken eyes, 
 and knew him better. At last came long days of 
 convalescence, spent with Washington. 
 
 Once more in the saddle, but with his physician 
 riding at his side, Lafayette set out again. On a 
 December day he rode into Boston, which he found 
 a very different looking city from Philadelphia. 
 Here was no prim regularity. Even the houses broke 
 away from simple straight lines, and often found 
 picturesque forms in hipped roofs and projecting 
 stories, while the crooked little streets led nowhere 
 and everywhere. 
 
 Despite Lafayette's belated arrival in Boston, the 
 Alliance was not ready for sea, as she had been 
 unable to get a full crew. That was a common 
 trouble with the vessels of the revolutionary navy. 
 While America could boast the best of seafaring 
 men in those days, it was hard for the navy to get 
 hold of them. Congress had commissioned many
 
 102 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 privately owned vessels to arm and prey upon 
 British commerce, and sailors found better pay and 
 more prize money aboard these privateers. This 
 accounts for the revolutionary navy not having ac- 
 complished more than it did ; much of the time its 
 ships were lying useless in port for want of men, 
 or were on the ocean fighting with seasick land- 
 lubbers at the guns. In the case of the Alliance 
 there was talk of impressing the needed men. But 
 the marquis was opposed to that, and the crew was 
 filled out with British deserters and prisoners, a 
 hazardous resort that was to come very near ending 
 the career of Lafayette. 
 
 During those days of waiting, the "French boy's" 
 heart overflowed in letters of affection to Washing- 
 ton. One was on the very eve of departure : "The 
 sails are just going to be hoisted, my dear General, 
 and I have but time to take my last leave of you. 
 . . . Farewell, my dear General; I hope your 
 French friend will ever be dear to you; I hope I 
 shall soon see you again, and tell you myself with 
 what emotion I now leave the coast you inhabit, 
 and with what affection and respect I am forever, 
 my dear General, your respectful and sincere 
 friend." So, on January n, 1779, through the 
 floating ice of the winter-bound harbor, the Alliance 
 bore Lafayette out upon his long homeward 
 voyage. 
 
 There was a favorable wind, but too much of it;
 
 A FRENCH-AMERICAN OFFICER 103 
 
 it soon swept to a gale. For three days the ship 
 fought the storm. Then, after a dark, wild night 
 that seemed the end ( the crew ready to cut away the 
 masts, the ship steadily filling) the storm died down, 
 and the Alliance, with shattered rigging but sea- 
 worthy yet, went bravely on her way. 
 
 But more trouble was brewing. The English 
 sailors, who outnumbered the rest of the crew, 
 hatched a plan to seize the vessel. On an early 
 February afternoon, all was orderly aboard ship, 
 suspiciously orderly, the time set for the uprising 
 only an hour away. Below, Lafayette and the 
 ship's officers were at dinner. Doubtless a merry 
 party, sickness and storms all forgotten, and 
 France just over the edge of the sea. Suddenly an 
 excited sailor was among them. The first words of 
 his story sent Lafayette and the officers rushing on 
 deck. They summoned the loyal sailors and quickly 
 had the chief mutineers seized and in irons. 
 
 From that time all went well. What must have 
 been Lafayette's feelings that Saturday, February 
 6, as dimly out of the ocean rose the coast of 
 France ! France, from which he had fled almost as 
 an outlaw, disguised as a postboy, pursued by officers 
 of the king. Now he was returning covered with 
 honors, a major-general of distinction, upon a war- 
 ship especially commissioned for his use. And 
 France herself was following where he had led! 
 
 Higher and clearer rose the land ahead, that great
 
 104 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 arm of Brittany that France reaches out toward 
 America, Along the coast villages stood out, 
 strangely clear. The Alliance held for a slowly 
 lifting headland, and sailed under looming fortifi- 
 cations into the harbor of Brest. And then came a 
 moment when Lafayette's heart leaped. Flash 
 after flash, roar after roar, from the great guns of 
 the forts. The salute of France to the flag of 
 America! The thunder of the guns, echoing from 
 the hillsides of the harbor, brought most of the clat- 
 tering sabots of Brest down to the waterfront, and 
 began an ovation to Lafayette in which all France 
 was to join. 
 
 On Friday, February 12, Lafayette reached Ver- 
 sailles, the royal city in which he had spent much of 
 his life. There was the academy where he had gone 
 to school with his fellow nobles and with princes; 
 there, the Place d'Armes, where he had taken part 
 in manceuvers under the banner of the regiment 
 De Noailles; there the great white palace where he 
 had attended the king's levees, and danced at the 
 queen's balls. 
 
 The return of the marquis had its perplexing 
 features for the French Government. The boy had 
 left the country in contempt of a lettre de cachet, 
 and almost with his tongue in his cheek at the 
 French king. Kings and lettres de cachet were not 
 things to be laughed at. There must be punish- 
 ment meted out. And yet the whole setting of the
 
 A FRENCH-AMERICAN OFFICER 105 
 
 stage had rather embarrassingly changed. The 
 king himself was now fighting for the very cause 
 that the boy had run away to champion. Besides, 
 the young offender had complicated matters by com- 
 ing back so covered with glory that the people 
 would not be able to see the culprit for the hero. 
 What was to be done ? The answer was thorough- 
 ly French, and thoroughly satisfactory all around. 
 
 When Lafayette entered Versailles, his cousin, 
 the Prince de Poix, was ready to take him in charge ; 
 and there was a one-day stop, full of the serio- 
 comic, in the king's city. The marquis was not 
 allowed to show himself publicly, no chance being 
 taken of popular demonstrations in honor of a sub- 
 ject technically under the king's displeasure; and 
 yet he was presented with all marks of distinction 
 to the ministers of the Government, and earnestly 
 consulted by them ! He was not allowed to see the 
 king; and yet it was arranged that he should be in 
 the palace gardens where the queen drove, that she 
 might see him and congratulate him! He was in- 
 formed that he was to consider himself under arrest 
 for disobedience of royal command; and yet the 
 prison appointed turned out to be not the Bastille 
 but his own home! 
 
 And so, that night, the happiest of condemned 
 culprits was on his way again to the capital, and 
 to the Hotel de Noailles, the family mansion in 
 Paris having the same name as the one in Versailles.
 
 io6 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 A swift ride over the superb road to the city, on 
 through the crowded streets to the great hotel on 
 the Rue Saint Honore, and then the glad plunge 
 into imprisonment, his shackles the arms of his 
 young wife and the baby fingers of Anastasia, 
 
 That imprisonment in the family mansion con- 
 tinued for some days, becoming more and more a 
 matter of French comedy. The marquis had been 
 forbidden to receive visitors there. All the better 
 for the comedy. That gave parts for delighted 
 Paris to play. So delighted Paris assailed the 
 Hotel de Noailles, inquiring most formally for 
 Madame de Lafayette, for her parents, or for any- 
 body indeed but the imprisoned hero that Paris had 
 come to see. 
 
 In the midst of adulation, the marquis did not 
 forget America. As he could not go to Franklin 
 to consult about her affairs, he wrote asking Frank- 
 lin to come to him. And so on a morning very 
 shortly after Lafayette's arrival in Paris, a car- 
 riage drove up to Number 235 Rue Saint Honore, 
 and from it alighted, rather uncertainly, the old 
 doctor. Franklin was not a stranger in this home, 
 and he and Madame de Lafayette were already 
 friends. How often, in his grave, official packets 
 for America, had he found place for her love-letters 
 to the marquis! 
 
 There were two things of special interest for 
 Franklin and Lafayette to talk over that day.
 
 A FRENCH-AMERICAN OFFICER 107 
 
 Among the despatches the marquis had brought 
 from Congress was one instructing Franklin to pre- 
 sent to the Marquis de Lafayette an elegant sword 
 in the name of the United States of America. And 
 another abrogated the commission of three envoys 
 to France, and appointed Benjamin Franklin as sole 
 minister to the court of Versailles. 
 
 A few days later Lafayette's imprisonment came 
 to an end. He wrote a letter of apology to the 
 king he had flouted, whereupon he was summoned 
 to Versailles. With feelings more of pride than 
 of penitence, the young noble presented himself 
 before his monarch. And good-natured King 
 Louis, who in truth liked the young culprit, soon 
 fell to talking interestedly of his life in America; 
 and the "reprimand" ended in royal congratulations 
 upon the very exploits the boy had run away to get 
 into. Even honor followed soon, for he was given 
 command of the King's Dragoons. 
 
 It is impossible to overestimate the services of 
 Lafayette to our country during this visit back to 
 his native land in 1779. It was he who kept zeal 
 for our cause from dying out at the court of Ver- 
 sailles. Linking his work with that of the old 
 Doctor, it is probably safe to say that but for Frank- 
 lin we could not have obtained, and but for Lafay- 
 ette we could not have retained, the effective support 
 of France in the American Revolution.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 AMERICA'S PART OF SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 WHILE Lafayette was ceaselessly petitioning 
 the French Government in behalf of his 
 adopted country, Doctor Franklin, out at Passy, 
 was adjusting himself to his new position. At last 
 that absurd triumvirate of envoys with its incon- 
 gruous make-up was at an end. At last the one 
 American quite capable of handling the situation 
 in France was free to do so. At last Benjamin 
 Franklin was sole minister from the United States 
 to the court of Versailles. In his own way he con- 
 ducted the affairs of the embassy. If that way 
 meant more dining out than working in, and 
 more papers on the floor than on the files, it was a 
 good way, anyhow, for it got America what she 
 sought. 
 
 The Doctor acquainted the Minister of Foreign 
 Affairs with his appointment, and a day was set 
 for his presentation to the king in his new capacity. 
 But Franklin's movements were a good deal subject 
 to the whims of the tyrant Gout And in this case 
 that tyrant chose the same time as Louis XVI for 
 
 108
 
 AMERICA'S PART 109 
 
 a meeting with the Doctor, so the audience with the 
 French king had to be postponed. 
 
 However, there are many things that can be 
 done even by a minister with the gout. And 
 we may be sure that one thing Franklin was giving 
 attention to now was the procuring of that sword 
 for the Marquis de Lafayette. Congress had set 
 the old man a task to his liking, and fortunately had 
 left him a free hand. His to choose the kind of 
 sword, his to determine all the embellishing devices. 
 The Doctor may not have known much about 
 swords, but among his French friends were nobles 
 well qualified to advise him ; while as to the devices, 
 he had a knack of his own along that line, and he 
 drew some of them himself. 
 
 In those days one qf the most famous sword- 
 cutlers of Paris was Liger, down near the Palais 
 Royal in a narrow little cross-street, the Rue Co- 
 quilliere. To Liger, Franklin entrusted the making 
 of the sword. Congress had said, "an elegant 
 sword," and an elegant sword it was to be. No 
 pains were spared to make the gift truly carry its 
 story and its sentiment. More than once Franklin's 
 coach came rolling into little Rue Coquilliere, and 
 deposited the Doctor for conference with the 
 famous Liger. 
 
 Another thing taking Franklin to Paris now was 
 his growing friendship for Lafayette. But he no 
 longer drove down old Rue Saint Honore to the
 
 no SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Hotel de Noailles. Lafayette had established a 
 home of his own. He and his Adrienne had had 
 that idea in mind for a long while. One day when 
 he was in America she had received a letter from 
 him that ran wistfully : "Do you not think that, at 
 my return, we shall be old enough to establish our- 
 selves in our own house, and to live there happily 
 together? I enjoy thus building in France castles 
 of felicity and pleasure! you always share them 
 with me, my dearest heart." 
 
 Evidently "our own house" appealed to his 
 "dearest heart;" besides, was not her French 
 colonel and American major-general too important 
 a man now not to have his independent establish- 
 ment? So, in that spring of 1779, the young couple 
 turned their backs upon the great family mansion 
 to seek their "castle of felicity." They found it on 
 the other side of the Seine, where the lofty dome of 
 the Invalides marked the aristocratic faubourg of 
 Saint Germain. Over there next to the beautiful 
 gardens at the end of old Rue de Bourbon, they 
 discovered a great house to their liking, and proudly 
 rechristened it the Hotel de Lafayette. There was 
 a high-walled garden running back a whole square, 
 a charming bit of outdoors for the little Marquise 
 and baby Anastasia. 
 
 As the summer drew on France and Spain were 
 planning to send a fleet and a great army across the 
 Channel for a descent upon England. France was
 
 AMERICA'S PART in 
 
 already collecting forces and vessels for transports 
 along her Channel coast from Havre to St. Malo. 
 The fleet of war-ships was to come up from the 
 Mediterranean. Lafayette had an "important and 
 agreeable" command in the expedition as aide- 
 matrechal-^eneral des logis. Now he set out for 
 Havre to join the army of invasion. 
 
 The invasion of England! How those words 
 must have carried his thoughts centuries back to that 
 great prototype of this expedition, the invasion of 
 England from the same coast by William the Con- 
 queror ! And soon, as his horse struck into the old 
 roads of Normandy, how every mile of the way tied 
 the present expedition to that historic one! For 
 now he was in William the Conqueror's own 
 country. 
 
 All the way to the coast there would ride beside 
 the marquis the phantom of that great figure in 
 armor on the heavy Norman war-horse; accoutered 
 with sword and lance and kite-shield; eagle-eyed, 
 fierce-visaged under the helmet with the ducal 
 crown, William, Duke of Normandy. So com- 
 panied, the ardent young noble pressed on. And 
 the road was the Conqueror's road; and the towns 
 were his, and the grim castles on their wooded 
 heights. On through a beautiful country-side (the 
 great duke had known it well) where silver-gray 
 rivers swept round lofty cliffs, and after a while 
 Rouen was reached, the city of ever-chiming bells.
 
 112 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Rouen the Conqueror's capital city. And then 
 came Lillebonne, where a frowning castle stood 
 high above the town the Conqueror's castle. Up 
 there, in the great baronial hall, the duke and his 
 knights first openly spoke their minds as to the dar- 
 ing enterprise, the invasion of England. There 
 each knight told what number of men and of ships 
 he would supply, his quota being set down against 
 his name in a book. 
 
 Journeying on, Lafayette came, in the beginning 
 of July, to the hills of the Norman coast and looked 
 down upon the sea-bordered plain below, half ex- 
 pecting, one might think, to behold the embarking 
 host of William the Conqueror. Instead, that 
 plain was filled with the host of Louis XVI. Out 
 beyond, in sheltered waters near where the great 
 duke's little boats once lay, were countless transports 
 for the expedition of the French king. And there 
 in a cleft in the hills was Havre. Not much of a 
 place in those days, but strongly walled all about 
 with frowning ramparts. It behooved the traveler 
 to get down from the hills and to make his entrance 
 before nightfall when the gates of the walls would 
 swing shut. Lafayette took up his station in the 
 town just opposite the port, where he could overlook 
 the waiting vessels, delighted to find himself in the 
 midst of preparations for the great invasion. 
 
 But the days and the weeks passed; and though 
 anxious eyes were turned seaward, no spread of sail
 
 AMERICA'S PART 113 
 
 whitened out there to tell the coming of the allied 
 fleet. One day while Lafayette was chafing over 
 the fatal delay, young Temple appeared at Havre. 
 He was the envoy of his grandfather to present to 
 the marquis the sword of Congress. And we have 
 the marquis's word for it that the handsome sword 
 was presented handsomely. 
 
 It was a strange scene, a scene of international 
 significance, the actors virtually two mere boys. A 
 few words, a golden hilt passing from one young 
 hand to another, and it was all over. But in that 
 moment France and America drew nearer together; 
 and what had been but an elegant weapon became 
 a symbol of the struggle for liberty. 
 
 It was a symbol that had its immediate value. 
 The news that Lafayette had been presented with 
 an epee de honneur from the Congress of America 
 flew through the camps. It had "a tremendous 
 effect upon the army." The young French officers 
 gathered into Lafayette's quarters, congratulating, 
 questioning, each eagerly grasping the glittering 
 sword, and feeling the urge of its call to the Ameri- 
 can crusade. Lafayette's own delight in the gift 
 was boundless, and found expression in the words, 
 "That sword I am proud to carry into the heart of 
 England!" 
 
 It was a superb weapon, showing the perfection 
 just at that time reached in sword-designing; a 
 slender, gleaming, viciously beautiful thing. Upon
 
 H4 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 the hilt of gold was the work of the best artists of 
 Paris, in line and in low-relief. Among the finely 
 wrought embellishments were the four large medal- 
 lions emblematic of this young hero's deeds at Glou- 
 cester, Barren Hill, Monmouth, and Rhode Island. 
 Combined with these were devices of knighthood, 
 so appropriately giving to this sword the touch of 
 romance and of chivalry. The presentation in- 
 scription ran : "From the American Congress to the 
 Marquis de Lafayette, 1779." This gold hilt was 
 to become America's part of the Sword of Liberty.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 AMERICA'S FRIEND AT COURT 
 
 BUT Lafayette was not to carry his new sword 
 into England. Though at last the fleet of 
 France and Spain arrived in the Channel, it was too 
 late. The English had gathered their forces, and 
 the attempt to imitate William the Conqueror was 
 abandoned. 
 
 This failure did not leave France without other 
 projects for the war. All along Lafayette had been 
 urging the ministry to send a second French ex- 
 pedition, with a force of land troops, to America. 
 It was a proposal that nobody but Lafayette would 
 have thought of making. Everything was against 
 it. America did not want the troops; France did 
 not want to send them. The D'Estaing expedition 
 had turned out so badly that the idea of combined 
 forces was out of favor on both sides of the 
 Atlantic. But Lafayette insisted that despite the 
 unfortunate experience, the American army could 
 be successfully reinforced by French troops; and 
 indeed would have to be to win the struggle. At 
 the opening of 1780, he was seeking Franklin's aid, 
 hoping that the Doctor could induce Congress to 
 
 115
 
 n6 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 favor the coming of French troops, and to make a 
 request for them. 
 
 But also now Lafayette was anxious to impress 
 upon Franklin another important matter, that 
 there was a new member of the family just arrived 
 at the Hotel de Lafayette, a boy, and that he was 
 named for George Washington. The United States 
 Minister, with his usual versatility, had no trouble 
 in considering both the baby and the proposed 
 expedition to America at the same time. Both 
 received his approval. As to the little bundle in 
 the cradle he was enthusiastic ; but as to the expedi- 
 tion he had to act reservedly because of racial feel- 
 ings at home. 
 
 In January the ministry yielded to Lafayette's 
 appeal ; the king's order issued ; and a second expedi- 
 tion to America was in preparation. At once arose 
 the question concerning leadership. As to the fleet, 
 the command was given to the Comte de Ternay. 
 As to the land forces, the ministry was not long left 
 in doubt about Lafayette's views. He thought the 
 proper man was Lafayette. The marquis was 
 likely to think that way upon such occasions. He 
 had a good deal of confidence in himself and was 
 never backward about asking. At the same time, 
 he always recognized the rights of others, and never 
 sulked when what he sought went to other men. 
 
 In this case, his claim to leadership was a strong 
 one, but it could not stand against the stern fact
 
 AMERICA'S FRIEND AT COURT 117 
 
 that after all he was little more than a boy, and only 
 a colonel in the French army. So the command of 
 the land forces went to Lieutenant-General the 
 Comte de Rochambeau, one of the king's most ex- 
 perienced officers. It was arranged that Lafayette 
 should hasten to America to herald the expedition, 
 and that then he should be free to resume his posi- 
 tion in the patriot army. 
 
 Now there was much to be done, and cautiously, 
 for the whole expedition was wrapped in profound 
 secrecy. And, France being France, it was all to be 
 done in a delaying maze of formality and festivity. 
 The young marquis was of the court circle; while he 
 must make ready for his momentous journey, 
 equally must he be ready to answer summons to 
 hunt with the king, to dine with the queen, to at- 
 tend court functions. 
 
 One of the main things on Lafayette's mind was 
 to get ready a large supply of clothing to take with 
 him for the American soldiers. His pride was up, 
 his American pride. He would not have those 
 showy French troops that were to follow him see 
 Washington's soldiers in rags and tatters. Eagerly 
 he besought Franklin to see that the uniforms were 
 got ready; and, with his usual mad generosity, he 
 declared that if the embassy did not have money 
 enough he himself would supply the deficiency. 
 Money! Money! Money! With all we could fur- 
 nish ourselves and with all we could borrow, there
 
 n8 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 was never enough. Indeed, but for the liberality 
 of France, American independence could not have 
 been bought, for we could not have paid the price. 
 
 One evening in the first week of March, 1780, a 
 handsome coach attended by running footmen and 
 by lackeys in livery bright with gold lace, came 
 rolling into the courtyard of the Hotel de Valen- 
 tinois Monsieur le Marquis de Lafayette to take 
 leave of the American Minister. 
 
 And yet to any one who had known the marquis 
 in America, there would have seemed something 
 strange about the young man who now stepped from 
 the carriage. America had seen but Lafayette the 
 United States soldier; here was Lafayette the 
 French noWe, the elegantly dressed courtier that he 
 was in those days. He was ushered into a richly 
 furnished room, and into the presence of Franklin. 
 Picture the old man sitting there in the March eve- 
 ning before the open fire. He sits in a lax, heavy 
 way, a gouty leg held out, and his chin, after that 
 habit of his, oddly resting on the tip of his thumb. 
 But back of those quiet eyes, perhaps even a little 
 dreamy in the firelight, is still the keenest of minds ; 
 and now the eyes themselves flash bright in warm 
 welcome to Lafayette. Quickly the young French- 
 man steps forward to pay parting respect to the 
 venerable minister. 
 
 Two men to whom the cause of liberty owes 
 much! But for Franklin and Lafayette, each true
 
 AMERICA'S FRIEND AT COURT 119 
 
 to his own land but reaching out understandingly 
 toward the land of the other, the bond between 
 France and America might have failed and the cause 
 of the patriots with it Often in the stress and 
 strain of suspicion and jealousy these two human 
 links seemed all that held. 
 
 When Lafayette went to take formal leave of his 
 king, envious courtiers gathered in the royal ante- 
 chamber to see the romantic young soldier, a second 
 time bound overseas to that land of adventure. By 
 special concession of the king, he appeared in his 
 uniform of a major-general in the American army, 
 and wearing the honor sword from Congress. 
 
 At last came Lafayette's parting from his family. 
 Considering all that the marquis had done, and his 
 prominence upon two continents, it is hard to realize 
 what very young people these yet were, saying 
 good-by to each other. Even now Lafayette was 
 but twenty-two years old, and the little marquise 
 was but nineteen. Theirs was a married life of 
 deep affection. Again war and the sea were to 
 come between them. And this time there were two 
 children to make the parting harder, Anastasia, 
 nearly three years old, and little George Washington 
 as many months. 
 
 Bearing the king's secret, which he was going to 
 carry straight to Washington, Lafayette soon 
 reached the coast where the winds blow wild over 
 the great salt marshes of the Straits of Antioch.
 
 120 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Here was the safest point from which to sail; and 
 here lay waiting the king's frigate, the Hermione. 
 With the marquis aboard, the ship stood up the 
 harbor toward a white-walled town, La Rochelle, 
 where she was to take on thousands of uniforms for 
 the American soldiers. She tacked around the 
 quaint old lantern-tower that for centuries had 
 lighted vessels home, and in amongst the shipping 
 before the town, but only to disappointment. The 
 uniforms had not arrived. Lafayette held his ves- 
 sel here a day or two, but fruitlessly. On a dark 
 March night she weighed anchor, sailed out under 
 the faint glow of the old lantern-tower, and put to 
 sea. 
 
 After a tedious, uneventful voyage the Hernuonc 
 arrived at the port of Boston on April 27. All the 
 city learned who was aboard the beautiful frigate 
 landing at Hancock's wharf. The people crowded 
 to the harbor front. Cannon boomed from ships 
 and batteries. Lafayette disembarked in a welcom- 
 ing tumult. With music and cheering, and three- 
 cornered hats up in the air, he was escorted into the 
 town. Well up the hill the procession came to a 
 stop in front of a broad, stately mansion, the home 
 of one of America's most prominent patriots, John 
 Hancock, whose guest Lafayette became for the 
 time of his stay in Boston. Here he met warm 
 hospitality; and here too he picked up the story of 
 how things had been going in America.
 
 AMERICA'S FRIEND AT COURT 121 
 
 In the North, during Lafayette's absence, there 
 had been a strange military inactivity. Through all 
 that year of 1 779 Washington had been too weak to 
 attack the British force at New York, and that 
 force had made no serious attempt to attack him. 
 During this long deadlock, however, each side had 
 undertaken some minor operations. The British 
 had made several marauding expeditions about New 
 York and along the coast, the most serious of these 
 having been an incursion into Connecticut, which 
 had done them little good but had blackened their 
 name by its outrages upon defenseless people. 
 Sharp encounters had taken place over two little 
 posts on the Hudson, Stony Point and Verplanck's 
 Point; encounters always to be remembered on ac- 
 count of the brilliancy of the fighting, though of 
 little effect upon the military situation. But it was 
 Georgia and South Carolina that had seen the chief 
 military activity while Lafayette had been away. 
 Clinton had suddenly shifted the English offensive 
 from the North to the South, sending troops from 
 New York to cooperate with his Southern forces. 
 All had gone well for the British in the new field 
 of battle, Georgia soon being completely conquered. 
 A vigorous effort had been made by the American 
 Southern forces under Lincoln, aided by the fleet of 
 D'Estaing, which had come up from the West 
 Indies for the purpose, to break the British hold
 
 122 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 upon Georgia by retaking Savannah. But the at- 
 tempt had failed. 
 
 Elated -over the success in Georgia, Clinton had 
 concentrated his Northern forces by abandoning 
 Newport, and, taking what troops could be spared 
 from New York, had himself sailed southward to 
 conquer the Carolinas. He had turned in at 
 Charleston, then occupied by Lincoln's army, and 
 had settled down to a determined siege of the city. 
 That siege was still going on. 
 
 Such was the war-story that the returning La- 
 fayette heard as he sat in Hancock's house on 
 Beacon Hill and looked out over the town and har- 
 bor of Boston. It was not a very pretty story to 
 the ears of that fighter for liberty. While he was 
 gone, there had been no gains for the patriots in 
 the North; there had been loss after loss in the 
 South. Nor was that all. Soon the young French- 
 man learned that America was in a plight which 
 no mere tale of the fighting could disclose. The 
 grave, the alarming fact was that the country had 
 lost its nerve. War-worn, the people were ready 
 to quit, were quitting. Fighting patriots there still 
 were, and many of them ; but they could no longer 
 hold the people up to the fighting-spirit. One 
 trouble was the lack of money. So far as American 
 means were concerned the Revolution was run on 
 paper money; and by this time it had so depreciated 
 as to be virtually worthless. The soldiers were
 
 AMERICA'S FRIEND AT COURT 123 
 
 tired of fighting, and the people of furnishing sup- 
 plies, all for paper money that was useless. So the 
 armies had dwindled to pitiful numbers, recruiting 
 was almost impossible, and what soldiers there were 
 went starving. 
 
 Even Lafayette's unfailing courage must have 
 faltered as bit by bit he picked up the dismal story. 
 So this was the state of the cause to whose support 
 he had persuaded his king to send a second expedi- 
 tion! 
 
 It must have been with a sick heart that the young 
 Frenchman, early in May, left Boston and started 
 upon his long ride to Washington's headquarters 
 at Morristown, New Jersey. Something of a caval- 
 cade his little party made, with the several French 
 officers who were with him, his secretary, and his 
 personal servants. Among the latter was a valet 
 who affected so strange and fierce a head-dress that 
 he was nicknamed "the Devil." For days the way 
 led through the hill country south of Boston and 
 along the sandy levels of New Jersey. Somewhere 
 on the road Lafayette saw approaching him a 
 number of horsemen of a sort that he knew well. 
 Unusually tall, fine riders in blue and white, with 
 blue-and-white feathers in their hats. So Washing- 
 ton had sent a party of his own body-guard to 
 escort his "young soldier." 
 
 On they traveled across the low country and came 
 one morning to Morristown. or almost to it. For
 
 124 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 while yet the white church steeple of the village 
 showed some way off, there was pointed out to 
 Lafayette a broad white house topping one of the 
 neighboring hills, Washington's headquarters. 
 Riding up the slope, the party saw little of the main 
 army, as that was encamped some distance away. 
 But all about was the life and bustle of head- 
 quarters. The huts of Washington's Life Guards 
 stood in a meadow near the house. Officers and 
 messengers went up and down the hill. Sentries 
 were passed. 
 
 Quick drawing of rein, hot creak of leather, 
 rattle of swords, as the marquis and his suite and 
 the Continental guardsmen pulled up and dis- 
 mounted. Entering through a broad colonial door- 
 way Lafayette found himself welcomed not only 
 by his general but by Lady Washington too, and by 
 many officers whom the chief had invited to attend 
 a dinner in his honor. 
 
 At the table that day, we see General and Lady 
 Washington sitting side by side, and with them a 
 group of men whose names bulk big in the story of 
 the Revolution. Near the commander-in-chief sits 
 a tall, broad-shouldered man with brilliant blue eyes 
 and with such a commanding air you would never 
 suspect he is a Quaker, that is Greene, throughout 
 the war the right hand of Washington. Another 
 guest belies his appearance still more the big, full- 
 faced, genial man with the kindly smile, a smile not
 
 AMERICA'S FRIEND AT COURT 125 
 
 to be counted upon when dinners become battles 
 and Washington is depending upon Knox. The 
 huge imposing figure sitting there with the jeweled 
 order upon his great breast is not Mars himself, 
 though his martial air would excuse your thinking 
 so. That is the man who bellowed and cursed and 
 goaded and loved the brave raw Americans into 
 disciplined soldiers, Baron von Steuben. Near him 
 sits a man impressive in another way. Tall, slender, 
 nervously energetic, with piercing black eyes and 
 with a nose that beaks strong above a kindly, whim- 
 sical mouth, that is Schuyler, a greater man than 
 history paints him, who ought to have had the honor 
 that Gates got at the surrender of Burgoyne. 
 Across the table from Washington is a very small 
 young man ; but his massive head and his dignity add 
 cubits to his stature. He is presiding at the dinner, 
 and with that graceful courtesy that always dis- 
 tinguished Alexander Hamilton. 
 
 Washington esteems them all, and in his grave 
 way has let them know he does. But for that 
 stripling of France that he "loves as his own son," 
 his quiet gray-blue eyes have a look that no other 
 man has ever been able to bring into them. 
 
 After the dinner Washington and Lafayette 
 withdrew from the company for a private talk. 
 Then came the explosion of the great secret that the 
 king's young herald had bottled up for so long. 
 And how did it impress Washington? We shall
 
 126 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 never quite know. Probably his view was favor- 
 able. He certainly acted promptly, bending every 
 effort toward preparing for joint operations with 
 the French forces. 
 
 For a few days Lafayette remained at head- 
 quarters. The commander-in-chief had sorely 
 missed his boy general, and now everything goes to 
 show his happiness in the reunion. Of course a 
 subject quickly to the fore in the talks of these re- 
 united friends was that other George Washington. 
 The general's affection went out to the tiny noble 
 across the sea for his father's sake. But one day 
 the little fellow was to have a tug at the great man's 
 heartstrings on his own account. A boy refugee 
 from the horrors of the French Revolution, wealth 
 and rank gone, he was to find sanctuary in America, 
 in the home of his famous namesake at Mt. Vernon.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 DAYS OF WAITING 
 
 ON May 14 the Marquis de Lafayette started 
 for Philadelphia to make necessary arrange- 
 ments for the coming of the Rochambeau expedi- 
 tion. He found Congress in session in Inde- 
 pendence Hall, in the historic chamber where the 
 great Declaration was signed. It was a noble room 
 about forty feet square and very high, lighted by 
 deep-casemented windows and paneled with artis- 
 tically wrought pilasters. The members of Congress 
 were seated somewhat in a circle, with green- 
 topped tables at convenient intervals. The circle 
 was broken at one point by a low dais upon which, 
 in a stately Chippendale chair, sat the president be- 
 fore a mahogany table bearing a curious four-legged 
 object in silver that was inkstand, quill-holder, and 
 sanding-box. 
 
 There was a note of incongruity in the scene. 
 The Congress of a bankrupt, war-ruined nation, 
 and arrayed as though for a fancy-dress ball ! But 
 gaudiness was the note of the times, and even reso- 
 lutions to borrow more money had to be passed in 
 
 the brightest of coats and the gayest of waistcoats. 
 
 127
 
 128 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 The returning young major-general received a warm 
 welcome, and doubtless found place of honor in 
 an opening in the congressional circle, as visiting 
 notables were wont to do. Congress interrupted 
 its proceedings to pass a resolution in honor of La- 
 fayette, expressing its pleasure at the return of "so 
 gallant and meritorious an officer." 
 
 Lafayette's preparations for the arrival of the 
 French expedition were made difficult by the un- 
 certainties of navigation in those days. No one 
 could foresee at what point the fleet would arrive 
 in American waters. Signal officers were sta- 
 tioned at various places on the coast, provided with 
 swift boats and landing instructions, ready to put 
 out the instant the fleet should be sighted. The 
 landing instructions that the marquis sent would 
 read a little oddly to those officers of the French 
 expedition, not quite acquainted as yet with La- 
 fayette, the American Lafayette. French eyebrows 
 and shoulders would go up over the "we" and the 
 "you" and the "us" as a paragraph ran, "We shall 
 all endeavor to merit the friendship and the esteem 
 of troops whose assistance at the present moment is 
 so essential to us. You will find amongst us a great 
 deal of good will, a great deal of sincerity, and 
 above all, a great desire to be agreeable to you." 
 And written by a French officer ! 
 
 Every day the marquis was receiving letters from 
 Washington, planning and urging on the prepara-
 
 DAYS OF WAITING 129 
 
 tions ; and urging, too, that Lafayette come back to 
 him. We catch the human nearness of these two as 
 the grave, repressed chief whips out, "Finish your 
 business as soon as you can and hasten home, for so 
 I would always have you consider headquarters and 
 my house." And Washington needed him. It was 
 now toward the last days of May, and the outlook 
 only growing darker. The States were not re- 
 sponding to his urgent call. Recruits were not ar- 
 riving. Supplies were not coming in. A murmur 
 of mutiny was in the ranks. This the preparation 
 for the great united effort with allied forces that 
 now might arrive at any moment! 
 
 Look in upon no unusual scene in headquarters 
 on the hill near Morristown. It is late in the May 
 night, perhaps almost dawn ; but there in the other- 
 wise deserted office a majestic figure bends patient- 
 ly over a little ink-stained despatch table with its 
 guttering candles. The fitful light shows the strong 
 face drawn with care and anxiety, as the big mus- 
 cular hand writes on steadily, George Washington 
 making a last appeal to his apathetic countrymen. 
 Look over his broad shoulder for a moment as the 
 words form in those clear firm letters : 
 
 The Court of France has made a glorious effort for 
 our deliverance, and if we disappoint its intentions by 
 our supineness we must become contemptible in the eyes 
 of all mankind. ... All our operations are at a stand; 
 and unless a system very different ... be immediately 
 adopted . . . our affairs must soon become desperate be-
 
 130 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 yond the possibility of recovery. . . . We have everything 
 to dread. Indeed I have almost ceased to hope. 
 
 A day or two more and Lafayette was "home" 
 again. He found Washington planning measures 
 fairly desperate. His one chance lay in the serious- 
 ly divided state of the British forces, now that so 
 considerable a body had gone from New York to 
 lay siege to Charleston. If that city could hold out 
 until the French should arrive, then two quick 
 blows, one at the reduced garrison in New York 
 and the other at the besiegers of Charleston, might 
 turn the fortunes of war. How anxiously the two 
 men waited for news from beleaguered Charleston ! 
 How impatiently they looked for that swift horse- 
 man who should bring word from those watchers 
 by the sea! 
 
 Then one day (it was Thursday, the first of June) 
 a little handbill, brought out from New York, 
 ended even desperate hopes. Charleston had fal- 
 len! One of the greatest disasters of the war. 
 And hard on the heels of that news came word of 
 many ships bearing into New York harbor not the 
 arriving French fleet, but the returning British 
 fleet, bringing back victorious Clinton and all his 
 troops except five thousand men left under Corn- 
 wallis to complete the conquest of the Carolinas. 
 
 Now from plans of aggression Washington had 
 to turn to those of defense, expecting Clinton 
 flushed with victory to attack him from New York.
 
 DAYS OF WAITING 131 
 
 If the British commander were to do this with 
 energy, but one result seemed possible. As Wash- 
 ington said, "Their superiority will be decided, and 
 equal to almost anything they may think proper to 
 attempt. . . the most disastrous consequences are 
 to be apprehended." And still no word of the 
 sighting of the French fleet ! 
 
 But danger and anxiety never quite quench hope, 
 or make life stand still and wait. In the house on 
 the hill brave hearts watched and worked, and 
 laughed and sang as well. Among the bravest was 
 that fervid little patriot, Lady Washington, in her 
 sober war-time dress of homespun. She had come 
 up from Mount Vernon in the past winter in her 
 coach, with military guard, battling through cold 
 and snow, and bringing seven extra horses for the 
 general. Here at Morristown she was constantly 
 engaged upon some good work for her war-lord 
 husband or his needy soldiers. 
 
 In those days of waiting we see Washington and 
 Lafayette out upon many a gallop to an important 
 post of observation. While the young Frenchman 
 rode much, and well enough, he was never at his 
 best in the saddle. He must have welcomed these 
 opportunities to pick up points from the "finest 
 horseman of the times." Down from headquarters 
 they canter to little Morristown, where the flag 
 waves from the Liberty Pole and the people flock 
 to the "green" to greet them. On through the vil-
 
 132 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 lage they go, out on the Jockey Hollow road, and 
 up through the hills to a lofty height upon whose 
 commanding top they draw rein. And there the 
 two horsemen stand, like raised emblematic figures 
 silhouetted against the sky, Washington and La- 
 fayette, America and France, the alliance for 
 liberty! 
 
 Spread out before them is the whole military 
 panorama. Near at hand, hutted upon the hills, are 
 the soldiers of the little American army in their 
 tatters and wretchedness, held there, indeed, only 
 by their devotion to the great chief now looking 
 down grave-eyed upon them. Out beyond, far to 
 the east, New York and the camps of the British. 
 The story of Clinton's return is written in the 
 added myriad of masts cutting across the horizon. 
 
 It was on June 6, in the quiet of the dawn, that a 
 scout runner came panting up headquarters hill. 
 He bore the message that the British were ad- 
 vancing from New York toward the American posi- 
 tion. Washington at once took steps to move his 
 army forward to vantage-points. So the campaign 
 had begun. And that meant separation again for 
 the general and Lady Washington ; he to go to the 
 front, she back to Mount Vernon. Some time in 
 the commotion of that morning their good-bys were 
 said, and soon the American army was on its way 
 down out of the hills, though leaving a strong guard
 
 DAYS OF WAITING 133 
 
 for the protection of Lady Washington as she pre- 
 pared for her departure. 
 
 In a day or two her coach and four stood before 
 the open doorway, black coachmen, footmen and 
 postilions in white-and-scarlet livery, and mounted 
 military guards waiting. Upon black faces some 
 very white smiles back-to-Mount-Vernon smiles 
 are showing, as footmen and maid dispose of 
 their mistress's traveling-boxes. Now comes the 
 brave little wife of Washington, surrounded by 
 loyal women, some the wives of generals, some the 
 villagers who have come to say good-by to one 
 whose kindness and graciousness have made her 
 very dear to them. 
 
 Doubtless with more cracking of whip and flour- 
 ish of reins and rearing of horses than is quite 
 necessary (for the proud black retinue sees to that) 
 the coach gets under .way and goes swinging down 
 the hill. From this moment the news travels fast 
 that "Lady Washington is on the road," and ex- 
 cited people gather to cheer as she passes, and militia 
 turn out to give her escort, and many great families 
 are all a-bustle preparing for the honor of her 
 stopping to "night" with them. 
 
 It was a strange campaign opening that had oc- 
 casioned this breaking up of headquarters at Morris- 
 town. That incursion by the British from New 
 York, which the American scout had heralded, 
 proved to be in considerable force, and it was soon
 
 134 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 supplemented by another under Clinton himself; 
 but for various reasons both turned out to be odd, 
 half-hearted affairs. Even the miserably prepared 
 Americans were quite able to meet the situation. 
 At each incursion, signal guns boomed and warning 
 beacon-fires flamed from the hilltops, and Washing- 
 ton's little army with hastily gathered militia faced 
 the enemy. There were sudden scattered attacks, 
 sharp running encounters along the roads, and some 
 hotly contested little battles; but before any major 
 engagement was reached, the British lost heart and 
 beat retreat Soon they were driven ignominiously 
 back to New York, and again matters settled down 
 to that endless weary watching and waiting, the 
 struggle of endurance. 
 
 Washington thought the next move of the enemy 
 would be a more direct attempt to wrest from the 
 Americans the control of the Hudson. He took 
 what measures he could for the safety of its chief 
 post, West Point, and also moved his own army 
 near to the river in New Jersey. Establishing his 
 headquarters there, he resumed the almost hopeless 
 attempt to recruit and refit his army for cooperation 
 with the French. Immediate determination must 
 be made as to just what operations were to be under- 
 taken. There was bitter mockery in that thought. 
 What operations could be undertaken by such an 
 army as his, even with the aid of the French? 
 Washington's answer was a desperate one. Any
 
 DAYS OF WAITING 135 
 
 worth-while answer had to be. He would greet 
 his allies with a plan for immediate joint attack 
 upon New York itself. And now to deal that bold 
 blow America was waiting through the summer days 
 for the coming of France.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MORE HELP FROM FRANCE 
 
 BUT was France coming? Day after day, 
 week after week went by, the watchers on the 
 coast scanning the sea in vain. Then suddenly, 
 one July morning, it all happened. A heavy fog 
 hanging over the New England shore lifted, and 
 there, in the outer harbor of Newport, Rhode 
 Island, lying quietly at anchor, was the French 
 fleet. Despite the long vigilant watch that this 
 town like so many others had kept, Newport was 
 taken by surprise. 
 
 In the rising mist one of the smaller vessels took 
 on a group of officers from the flag-ship and stood 
 in toward the port. There was a strange quiet 
 about the place. Except for some curious flocking 
 of people down the hillside streets to the water- 
 front, there was no demonstration. Newport was 
 too much surprised to show welcome and felt little 
 welcome to show. This was the town that had seen 
 D'Estaing sail away without attempting to rescue it 
 from the hands of the British. Explanations? 
 Oh, yes, but they had never counted for much here. 
 Besides, what awful tales of French manners and 
 
 136
 
 MORE HELP FROM FRANCE 137 
 
 morals the good New Englanders had heard ! And 
 now these faithless, virtue-less allies were coming 
 right to Newport ! 
 
 It was about noon when the French vessel came 
 up to Long Wharf. From it debarked a brilliantly 
 uniformed group the pride of France Lieu- 
 tenant-General the Comte de Rochambeau and his 
 staff of French noblemen. And they landed almost 
 in the chill of silence upon American soil. It was 
 an ominous beginning. 
 
 But soon the situation mended. The frank, dig- 
 nified Rochambeau made an excellent impression. 
 He quickly won the respect and confidence of the 
 men of the town, while his handsome, dashing 
 young staff captivated the women. Major-General 
 Heath of the American Army arrived to welcome 
 the French officially, and one night Newport even 
 had an illumination. This was a most satisfactory 
 demonstration, the treasurer supplying a box of 
 candles at the expense of the town, and the illumina- 
 tion being bravely kept up until ten o'clock. 
 
 With the landing of the troops things took on a 
 new aspect in Newport. To the war-worn dejected 
 town came life, color, music, commotion. Trans- 
 port after transport sailed up and discharged its 
 burden of splendidly equipped soldiers and elaborate 
 paraphernalia of war. What a colorful picture it all 
 made! One crack regiment after another debark- 
 ing and forming ashore this one all in white, that
 
 138 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 in white and green, the next in blue and red ; these 
 in jaunty cocked hats, those in high grenadier caps 
 with waving colored plumes; and every man spick 
 and span and with his hair done up in a pigtail. 
 
 When the transports were empty a French army 
 of six thousand men was encamped near the town. 
 It had been intended in France that the force should 
 be larger but at the last moment there was a short- 
 age of transports and many of the assembled troops 
 had to be left to form a second division, which was 
 to follow as soon as possible. Rochambeau wrote 
 at once to Washington, formally announcing his 
 arrival. He expressed veneration for the American 
 commander and zeal for the cause, and said in con- 
 clusion, "We are now, sir, under your command." 
 
 The French at once began to fortify their posi- 
 tion. There was more need for prompt fortification 
 than any one supposed. The British fleet at New 
 York was just at this time reinforced, and at once 
 sailed for Newport. In a few days the French, 
 who had arrived so full of zeal to attack the enemy, 
 were placed wholly on the defensive. Their ships 
 were bottled up in Newport Harbor by the superior 
 British fleet cruising outside, while word came that 
 Qinton was on his way from New York with a large 
 land force. 
 
 The French worked hard upon their defenses; 
 but at the same time, while waiting for the English 
 to try to capture Newport, they went on capturing
 
 MORE HELP FROM FRANCE 139 
 
 it themselves. So admirable was the conduct of 
 the troops, so charming the appearance and the 
 manners of their officers, that gladly the whole town 
 surrendered. Do we ever quite appreciate the 
 unique social situation that attended the coming of 
 France to help us in our fight for liberty? Into 
 that rather sedate unsophisticated American society 
 was suddenly thrown a group of the gayest, most 
 polished Europeans, a dashing band of young 
 nobles from the very inner circle of the brilliant 
 court of Marie Antoinette. It is not surprising 
 that the provincial little democratic town of 1780 
 was set agog. 
 
 And how well that sudden contact of American 
 simplicity and European elegance was managed! 
 The credit goes to the French. Quartered among 
 families of the town, those cultured, pampered 
 nobles of France, with their elegant trappings and 
 their Parisian valets, readily adapted themselves to 
 the ways of the little American seaport. Heartily, 
 gaily, they entered into the life of the place. Or 
 rather, they made it. Young counts and marquises 
 and barons and dukes not only entered American 
 parlors as though they were the white-and-gold 
 drawing-rooms of France, and drank tea with 
 American girls as though they liked it, but a little 
 later they held forth in elaborate functions of their 
 own, where the good Newportians were shown all 
 the courtesies of the Paris salon.
 
 140 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 When balls were given by the Comte de Rocham- 
 beau or by the Due de Lauzun or by the officers of 
 the Royal du Fonts, what a suffocating flutter in 
 fair bosoms as French bands "played like enchant- 
 ment," as French nobles paid charming court, and 
 every colonial maiden was a princess! Now those 
 colonial maidens were not used to being princesses, 
 and there were delicious, agonizing hours of prep- 
 aration for the part. Old finery was gotten out, 
 and feverish efforts made to get a season or two 
 nearer the prevailing French modes. And after all, 
 Polly Leighton, a demure little Quakeress who 
 did n't even put a coquettish bow in her bonnet 
 strings, carried off the honors. 
 
 The July days went by hurried work upon the 
 defenses; anxious looks seaward at blockading 
 British ships; express riders foaming in with news 
 of Clinton's movements; and, along with all, music 
 and gaiety. It was into that sort of Newport that 
 there came riding one evening toward the end of 
 the month the Marquis de Lafayette. It was a 
 proud moment for him. Here was a great military 
 expedition that his efforts had obtained from the 
 French king; and to it he was now coming as the 
 sole representative of the American commander-in- 
 chief . This youth bore authority from Washington 
 to make all arrangements for the joint operation of 
 the French and American forces. "All the in- 
 formation he gives," wrote Washington to Rocham-
 
 MORE HELP FROM FRANCE 141 
 
 beau, "and all the propositions he makes, I entreat 
 you to consider as coming from me." 
 
 But Lafayette found the French commanders in 
 no position to consider plans for aggressive action. 
 They were too busy with the matter of their own 
 salvation. So the marquis had to postpone the sub- 
 ject of his visit and to join in the efforts for de- 
 fense against the British. He had to join in the 
 social functions too, and Newport family traditions 
 are rather rich in ancestresses who danced with La- 
 fayette. 
 
 His was a strange position there with his own 
 countrymen. His meteoric career excited perhaps 
 admiration, certainly some other feelings in the 
 officers of the expedition. Probably younger than 
 any of them, he occupied so important a position 
 that some feared being placed under command of 
 the stripling, and had taken a vow not to submit to 
 it. However, military friction aside, Lafayette 
 was among friends, and even relatives. Rocham- 
 beau himself was a distant kinsman. 
 
 The general spirit of the French toward the cause 
 was all the marquis could have wished. The young 
 officers were full of enthusiasm in the glorious ad- 
 venture, burning to unsheathe their swords for 
 American liberty. And even Lafayette must have 
 been surprised at their intense eagerness to behold 
 the great Washington. 
 
 One day about the first of August came an ex-
 
 142 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 press rider bearing word from him, anyway. The 
 commander-in-chief regretted that he could not send 
 any detachment from his own army to aid in re- 
 pelling Clinton's expected attack upon Newport; 
 but he said that, with the idea of drawing the British 
 general back from that object, he was marching his 
 entire force directly toward New York, and might 
 even attack the weakened garrison there. A few 
 days more and the nervous tension at Newport was 
 over. The British offensive broke down before 
 the combination presented by the strong position of 
 the French and the menacing movement of Wash- 
 ington. But the English fleet continued to blockade 
 the harbor. 
 
 At last Lafayette could take up with the French 
 commanders the matter that had brought him there, 
 the consideration of joint operations by the allies. 
 Rochambeau's headquarters, the old Vernon House 
 at the corner of Clarke and Mary streets, saw some 
 earnest and not always harmonious conferences. 
 But they amounted to little. The sudden blockad- 
 ing of the French squadron by the reinforced British 
 fleet prevented any present action. All that could 
 be done was to plan vaguely for what might be 
 undertaken when the second division should arrive. 
 
 A hard blow to Lafayette. Was this French ex- 
 pedition, his expedition, to go the way of its pred- 
 ecessor and fail the Americans? It was a sober 
 young marquis that mounted his horse one day in
 
 MORE HELP FROM FRANCE 143 
 
 early August and started upon his return journey to 
 the main American army. He found the army 
 crossing to the west bank of the Hudson at King's 
 Ferry after its feint upon New York. And some- 
 where in those pitiful lines of soldiers toiling 
 along the hot, dusty way, he found a body of light 
 infantry that Washington had formed in his absence 
 and of which he was now to have command. La- 
 fayette was prouder of these ragged troops than he 
 had been of his superbly uniformed King's 
 Dragoons. 
 
 Hounded by famine, the army struggled south- 
 ward along the Hudson. Soon they were in an 
 almost mockingly beautiful land, that reach of 
 smiling valleys just back of the Palisades. Some- 
 times their way was through Sleepy-Hollow-like 
 peace and plenty. But even where plenty was, it 
 was not for the patriot soldiers. While the rural 
 sections of America were generally far more loyal 
 to the cause of liberty than were the cities, yet here 
 was a country-side steeped in Toryism. The bare 
 necessities of the troops were met only by forages 
 at the point of the bayonet. 
 
 Yet all along Washington's hope fed upon visions 
 of great things to be accomplished when the second 
 French division should come that is, until that hot 
 day at the end of August when an unwelcome mes- 
 senger came riding up to headquarters. It is said 
 that Washington almost lost his marvelous com-
 
 144 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 posure that day as he read the message brought. 
 There was to be no second division. The expected 
 additional French fleet could not even leave France, 
 it was blockaded by the British in its own harbor at 
 Brest. 
 
 The first blow of disappointment weathered, 
 Washington turned wearily to face the situation. 
 That was the end of all hope for a Northern cam- 
 paign in 1780. But a brave front must still be 
 kept up, and the fight against starvation must go 
 on. Dejectedly the army went into camp there in 
 the extreme northeastern corner of New Jersey, 
 close by the all-important Hudson. 
 
 On a dismal rainy day at the opening of 
 September, Washington, riding out in the open 
 country, stopped at a long, low, stone house a little 
 back from the river, and took up his headquarters 
 there. It was a usual enough house of the better 
 sort, with nothing to indicate the part that it, or its 
 owner, was playing in the cause of liberty. But 
 had the Tories of the neighborhood known what 
 Washington knew the building would probably not 
 have been left standing. Here lived Andrew Hop- 
 per, well known as a prominent patriot, but not 
 known as what he really was, one of Washington's 
 most trusted spies. 
 
 The work of such a man in the American Revo- 
 lution was of particular importance. It was a war 
 of spies. And yet, from the nature of things, com-
 
 MORE HELP FROM FRANCE 145 
 
 paratively few of them could be trusted. The most 
 efficient work had to be done by double dealing, 
 blinding the enemy by giving information as well 
 as getting it. There was always the danger that 
 even the most loyal spy would mistakenly give more 
 than he would get ; and there was the even greater 
 danger that his loyalty would fail in this double 
 dealing and that he would go over to the enemy. 
 Washington kept personal control of a spy system 
 of his own, and showed ability in choosing men and 
 in planning their operations. 
 
 That dismal rainy September day in which Wash- 
 ington took up his headquarters at the Hopper house 
 was suggestive of the experience he was to have 
 there. The distress of the army continued; militia 
 arriving had to be turned back and disbanded for 
 lack of food; Clinton was threatening immediate 
 attack ; and in the midst of all came news of serious 
 disaster in the South. 
 
 For a while after Clinton had captured Charles- 
 ton, and had sailed away leaving Cornwallis to 
 complete the conquest of the Southern colonies, all 
 had gone well for the British. There had been 
 virtually no American army left in the South, and 
 it had looked as though all that region was to be 
 quickly subdued. But gradually the patriots had 
 renewed the struggle in the only way they could, by 
 waging desultory warfare from the fastnesses of 
 forests and swamps. Under such leaders as Marion
 
 146 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 and Sumter they had kept the cause of liberty alive, 
 and after a while a new American army had been 
 organized in the Southern field to oppose the vic- 
 torious Cornwallis. Congress, without consulting 
 Washington, had given command of this army to 
 Gates, the general who had obtained so much un- 
 deserved credit for the capture of Burgoyne. 
 
 Now, by the time Washington was established at 
 the Hopper house, about the only encouraging fea- 
 ture of the situation was the favorable word 
 from the South, indicating that Gates was in a fair 
 way to wrest that portion of the country from the 
 grip of Cornwallis. Perhaps the commander-in- 
 chief had this one pleasant prospect in mind as he 
 wakened one morning in his quaint, low-pitched 
 room and looked out between the parted chintz 
 curtains of his bed. The rain had gone and it was 
 a beautiful morning. The room was furnished in 
 old darkened walnut richly carved. A Dutch Bible 
 mounted in silver lay on the table with antique bits 
 of pottery, while pictured family forebears looked 
 down from the walls upon the famous guest. But 
 the beautiful day was to be a bad day for Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 Some time in the afternoon news reached head- 
 quarters stripping the commander-in-chief of his 
 one favorable war prospect. Gates, the vainglorious 
 general who had been about to save the South, had 
 bungled into battle with Cornwallis to his own
 
 MORE HELP FROM FRANCE 147 
 
 undoing. The two opposing generals had started 
 out on the same August night, near Camden, each 
 to surprise the other. The result had been the most 
 crushing defeat ever inflicted upon an American 
 army. Gates's forces had been virtually annihilated. 
 Perhaps there never was a darker time for Wash- 
 ington than that September 5, 1780, there at the 
 Hopper house, in his hand the fatal message from 
 the South. It was not that a battle had been lost, 
 but an opportunity, perhaps the last. Just as the 
 blockading of the second French division had 
 thwarted his desperate attempts to make some head- 
 way that year in the North, so now this over- 
 whelming defeat of Gates blighted all hope of even 
 holding his own in the South. The Southern 
 colonies lay open to complete subjugation.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 FRANCE AND AMERICA TALK IT OVER 
 
 IN that autumn of 1780 Washington resolved 
 upon a conference with Rochambeau and Ternay 
 to determine what might possibly be arranged as to 
 future joint operations. The place of meeting 
 agreed upon was Hartford, Connecticut, about half- 
 way between the two headquarters. In preparation 
 for this journey the chief placed Greene in com- 
 mand of the army. 
 
 It was an impressive little company ready to set 
 out that Monday morning, September 18, for Hart- 
 ford. Besides Washington on his big, fine mount, 
 there were Lafayette and Knox and half a dozen 
 aides including young Alexander Hamilton. They 
 were a handsome body of officers; for this confer- 
 ence the United States was putting her best foot 
 foremost. And yet something was wrong. The 
 Commander-in-Chief of the American armies could 
 not get together money enough to make the proposed 
 journey decently! The military chest was empty. 
 Even Lafayette, who was usually depended upon to 
 help liberty out of such troubles, had in his many 
 mad generosities about exhausted his available re- 
 
 148
 
 FRANCE AND AMERICA 149 
 
 sources. After each officer had contributed all he 
 had or could borrow (mostly in paper money) they 
 all set forth, trusting to good fortune that their 
 meager means would carry them through. 
 
 After all, money or no money, this journey was 
 a good deal of a pleasure outing for the routine- 
 worn, camp-weary Washington. Out in the open 
 now, a good horse under him, favorite officers 
 galloping at his side, he set a good round pace along 
 the road that stretched alluring in the September 
 sunshine. Their way was up along the Hudson. It 
 was toward evening when they reached Stony Point 
 and came out upon the river bank at the landing of 
 King's Ferry to cross the stream. 
 
 And there, all unknowingly, they stood upon the 
 verge of a disgraceful chapter in the story of our 
 country, and even met and greeted the man who was 
 to make it so. The man was apparently waiting for 
 them. He was a well-built, strong- featured Ameri- 
 can officer, and his name up to that time was an 
 honored one Major-General Benedict Arnold. 
 The commander-in-chief thought highly of that 
 hero of many battle-fields, now limping about from 
 the effects of two wounds received in fighting for his 
 country. 
 
 Upon earnest solicitation Arnold lately had ob- 
 tained from Washington the command of West 
 Point and of the auxiliary posts along the Hudson, 
 in other words, of the most important and vital
 
 150 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 defenses of American liberty. And to no one would 
 they have been entrusted with greater confidence. 
 But it was confidence sadly misplaced. Already he 
 was deep in a plot to betray the Gibraltar of the 
 patriots into the hands of the British. He had 
 come down the river from West Point to the ferry 
 that day in his six-oared barge, and had actually 
 received a communication from the enemy but a 
 little while before the arrival of Washington. 
 
 Now the chief and his party of officers joined 
 Arnold in his barge to cross the Hudson. They 
 made a picturesque group in their blue and buff and 
 gold as the strokes of the oarsmen carried them out 
 into the mellow glow of the river's twilight. 
 Arnold's nerves were good ones, that there in the 
 presence of the commander he was about to betray, 
 he maintained a bold air of composure. 
 
 But once that failed him. They had got out to 
 where their view commanded a long reach of the 
 river to the southward. Washington looked and 
 brought his spy-glass to his eye. Arnold (though 
 nobody thought anything of it at the time) visibly 
 started. What the commander-in-chief saw was 
 a war-ship lying far down the stream near the 
 eastern shore. He turned and made some remark 
 to the officer near him in a tone too low to reach 
 the eagerly strained ears of Arnold. The traitor's 
 trepidation increased. Doubtless for a moment he 
 thought his plot discovered. For that vessel was
 
 FRANCE AND AMERICA 151 
 
 the British sloop of war Vulture, and through it 
 Arnold had been communicating with the enemy. 
 But his fears were groundless. Washington had 
 not a suspicion, and he was as far from guessing 
 the errand of the dim distant ship as though she 
 had been a phantom sail on that river of nautical 
 ghosts. 
 
 When the barge reached the other side of the 
 stream at Verplanck's Point, the party, including 
 Arnold, traveled a few miles to the village of 
 Peekskill, where they all remained that night. Next 
 morning Washington and his company, still un- 
 suspicious, went upon their way, while Arnold 
 turned back to complete the selling of his country 
 to the enemy for the best price he could get, before 
 the commander-in-chief should return. 
 
 It was a good-sized troop with which Washington 
 rode out into the sunrise of that September morning, 
 for at Peekskill he had added a mounted guard of 
 fifty men. Nor was this for display. There were 
 dangerous portions of the country ahead. And yet 
 for the most part what honor and devotion he was 
 to receive all along the way! It is easy for us to 
 forget how very little the people really saw of 
 George Washington. He was a man never on 
 parade, who seldom took a holiday. No wonder 
 that the people, who loved and trusted him as they 
 did no other man, crowded into the towns through 
 which he was to pass. And he in his modesty was
 
 152 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 always surprised and deeply affected by the recep- 
 tion accorded him. 
 
 For the next two or three days the commander- 
 in-chief and his officers reveled in the free life of 
 the highway. Out in the sunshine, with glow of 
 color and glint of weapons, they went clattering 
 over the hills. But that meant many stops at way- 
 side inns where stalwart riders and sweating steeds 
 had sharp-set appetites. The almost worthless 
 paper money was going fast. But the unexpected 
 was to happen. One day, upon leaving an inn, 
 thinking rather ruefully of the score to be paid, 
 they were surprised to be told that they owed noth- 
 ing. They had just crossed the boundary line into 
 Connecticut, and that State had assumed obligation 
 for all their expenses while they were within its 
 borders. 
 
 In the circumstances that was a more comfortable 
 basis to journey on. At length the company came 
 out upon a height overlooking a considerable river, 
 and below, along the stream, lay the town of their 
 destination, Hartford. The capital of Connecticut 
 was an odd-looking place in those days, more an 
 overgrown, sprawling village than anything else. 
 Everything was called Hartford for leagues 
 around. 
 
 As Washington and his party rode down into 
 the town, they were met by mounted guards of 
 honor, and cannon boomed a welcome. The town
 
 FRANCE AND AMERICA 153 
 
 was crowded with a multitude of people. The 
 distinguished military visitors were received by 
 Governor Trumbull and other notables and con- 
 ducted through cheering crowds to the home of 
 Colonel Wadsworth standing back in its spacious 
 gardens on Main Street. 
 
 Soon there was the booming of cannon again, 
 announcing the arrival of the French commanders. 
 Down at the City Landing they were formally 
 received as they disembarked from the ferry. The 
 party consisted of Rochambeau, Ternay, and two 
 or three subordinate officers. For the French, too, 
 there was the most enthusiastic popular welcome as 
 they were conducted up from the landing to the 
 square in front of the Capitol, where Washington 
 and his generals now awaited them. 
 
 It was one of the big moments in our story of 
 liberty, that meeting and greeting of the great 
 commanders of France and of America. It was 
 the alliance made visible. In the midst of a showy 
 setting of officers and aides and gaily uniformed 
 guardsmen was that trio of leaders upon whom all 
 eyes were bent. There were Rochambeau and 
 Ternay, neither one an impressive man physically, 
 but both of noble bearing, richly uniformed and 
 sparkling with jeweled insignia. There was Wash- 
 ington, less brilliantly though elegantly dressed in 
 buff and white and blue, and superb in his towering 
 majesty.
 
 154 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 As the three exchanged courtesies, what a 
 triumphal moment for Lafayette! This was his 
 doing. To him was owing the fact that those two 
 high officers of his king were standing upon 
 American soil pledging to Washington the support 
 of the army and the navy of France. And yet that 
 thought was not swelling the chest of the young 
 marquis half so much as another one. How, ever 
 since he ran away to America to fight for liberty, 
 he had been singing to his countrymen the praises 
 of the magnificent hero he had found over there 
 leading the desperate cause! Perhaps they were 
 skeptical. Now they should see, now they were 
 seeing! And in their eyes he could read the vindi- 
 cation of his own judgment. 
 
 The formal presentation over, the French and 
 the American generals were conducted to the home 
 of Colonel Wadsworth, where they remained during 
 their stay in Hartford. That was only two or three 
 days, and would have been less had Washington for 
 a moment suspected what was going on, in his 
 absence, along the Hudson. Ignorant of that, he 
 threw all his energies into this conference with the 
 French commanders, still hopeful that some way 
 might be found to strike an effective blow against 
 the British. As he did not know French and 
 Rochambeau and Ternay did not know English, 
 Lafayette acted as interpreter. But there was not 
 much to interpret. It soon appeared that no present
 
 FRANCE AND AMERICA 155 
 
 undertaking could be determined upon. About all 
 that could be done was to send a joint communica- 
 tion to the French king asking for more ships and 
 more troops. 
 
 On the night of Thursday, September 21, the 
 conference ended. While Washington was to re- 
 main in Hartford another day, the French com- 
 manders were to take their departure in the morn- 
 ing. The final gathering of the leaders that night 
 at Colonel Wadsworth's lavishly hospitable mansion 
 was a memorable event. But a much more memor- 
 able one was occurring that same night back on the 
 Hudson River.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A NIGHT OF TREASON 
 
 IT was about midnight, still and starlight. The 
 Hudson, widening below King's Ferry, was 
 flowing smoothly on the last of the ebb tide. Out 
 from the shadows of a wooded point on the western 
 bank moved a little rowboat containing three men. 
 It moved almost noiselessly, the oars being muffled 
 with pieces of sheepskin. The course laid was 
 toward the British war-ship Vulture, still anchored 
 a little below and on the other side of the river. 
 While two of the men rowed steadily, the third sat 
 in the stern of the boat, ill at ease. He was a rather 
 prominent man of those parts, Joshua Smith, a 
 lawyer and apparently a wholly unprincipled one. 
 Whether or not he fully understood the foul errand 
 he was on that night for Arnold, does not much 
 matter. 
 
 The ebbing tide favored the little craft and before 
 long the spars of the Vulture showed shadowy 
 against the starlit sky. There came quick challenge, 
 and the boat was ordered alongside. That was just 
 what was wanted, and Smith climbed aboard the 
 British vessel. A short while and he was back, 
 
 156
 
 A NIGHT OF TREASON 157 
 
 slipping down the side to the little boat. Close 
 following him came a slender, graceful youth 
 wrapped in a long blue watch-cloak concealing the 
 scarlet and gilt of a British uniform. From the 
 ship's deck above leaned dark, anxious figures 
 watching the young man and speaking guarded last 
 words. Then the rowboat headed noiselessly back 
 for the western shore. 
 
 The closely cloaked young man was one of 
 Clinton's favorite officers, Major John Andre, 
 Adjutant-General of the British army. He and 
 Smith spoke little and guardedly. At length the 
 boat shoved softly upon the beach a little below the 
 point from which it had started. Smith and Andre 
 got out and went up into the blackness of the 
 wooded shore. And there they found, skulkingly 
 waiting in a thicket, Major-General Benedict 
 Arnold. Smith left the two officers together and 
 made his way through the darkness back to the 
 boat. 
 
 Hour after hour passed. The stars looked down 
 upon a peaceful river scene, only an innocent little 
 rowboat lying at the bank. No sight or sound to 
 tell that up there in the blackness of a thicket Ameri- 
 can liberty was being sold. At length Smith grew 
 uneasy. Treason was outlasting the darkness to 
 cover it. He groped his way up the bank and again 
 whispered a warning of the nearness of day. Two 
 dim figures emerged from the thicket. Now, either
 
 158 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 because the boatman would not risk taking Andre 
 back to the ship that night, or because the nefarious 
 bargain was not yet concluded, the plotters decided 
 to go to Smith's house for concealment against the 
 coming day. 
 
 On the way they passed through a village, and 
 suddenly a sentry's challenge rang sharp, answered 
 by Arnold. Andre started in alarm ; it was the first 
 intimation he had that they were to pass within the 
 American lines. With no little uneasiness he fol- 
 lowed Arnold until they came to a stone house 
 on the crest of a ridge. They entered just as the 
 day was breaking. In the dim dawn might be 
 seen what sort of man Qinton had sent to treat with 
 Arnold. A young fellow, slender, handsome, grace- 
 ful, still in his twenties. He was to prove a most 
 accomplished youth in the lighter graces, but 
 scarcely the man for this work. Hardly were the 
 conspirators safe within the house when the sound 
 of firing on the Hudson alarmed them. Andre 
 hastened to a window commanding a view of the 
 river. There he saw the Vulture, which was to 
 await him, being driven from her position by the 
 cannonading of Americans on shore, and slowly 
 passing down the stream. It was an anxious young 
 British officer who now turned to further discussion 
 with Arnold. 
 
 About the middle of the forenoon the evil busi- 
 ness came to an end. All arrangements were com-
 
 A NIGHT OF TREASON 159 
 
 plete for the English to attack West Point, and for 
 Arnold to surrender it. And for his treachery he 
 was to receive a large sum of money and high rank 
 in the British army. He delivered to Andre sev- 
 eral papers in his own handwriting, apparently an 
 unnecessary step that might incriminate them both. 
 Then, after furnishing passes and giving Andre to 
 understand that he would be rowed back to the 
 Vulture that night, the traitor left the house and 
 started for his own headquarters. 
 
 All day Andre remained at Smith's house. After 
 some hours the wearing suspense was lessened by 
 his seeing the Vulture sailing back up the river and 
 taking position not far from her old anchorage. 
 Anxiously he awaited the coming of night when 
 he should be rowed out to her. But Smith had no 
 idea of carrying out that part of the arrangement. 
 Objections and excuses began, and in the end Andre 
 was forced to attempt returning by land to the 
 British lines. That was a much more serious and 
 dangerous undertaking. 
 
 Toward evening the two men set out, Andre now 
 necessarily in disguise and with the papers from 
 Arnold concealed in his boots. It was a fatal step. 
 Up to this time, in his own uniform and without 
 papers, his capture might have meant but detention 
 as a prisoner of war; now, in disguise and with the 
 incriminating papers, it would mean death as a spy. 
 But he had no choice.
 
 i6o SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 The two men were well mounted, Andre on a 
 big brown horse, and hoping something perhaps 
 from its conspicuous brand, "U.S.A." By a wind- 
 ing, hilly, and picturesque road they traveled up 
 the Hudson to King's Ferry, arriving there at 
 twilight. The boat was just starting. When they 
 reached the eastern bank of the river they set off 
 hopefully toward the outposts of the British above 
 New York. Their way was now through a lonely 
 country. The autumn night came fast in the hills, 
 and darkness closed about them full of lurking 
 perils to the distraught mind of the young English 
 officer forced into the character of a spy within the 
 American lines. Smith sought to draw him into 
 conversation, but fruitlessly. The long suspense 
 was telling upon this gay favorite of the British 
 headquarters as hour after hour he rode in the 
 gloom, staring ahead through a hangman's noose. 
 
 Sometime in the night came the sudden challenge 
 of a sentry. They had stumbled upon an American 
 patrol. They produced their passes. The captain 
 of the guard took them to his quarters, where by 
 the lamplight he studied them suspiciously. Smith, 
 who was good at that sort of thing, invented a very 
 plausible story as to their late travel toward the 
 enemy's lines. But the captain seemed hard to 
 satisfy. Perhaps to quiet suspicion, they stopped 
 and spent the night near by. Andre went to bed
 
 A NIGHT OF TREASON 161 
 
 with his boots on, not even removing his silver 
 spurs, and tossed anxiously till morning. 
 
 The travelers were up long before daylight and, 
 encountering no opposition, set hastily forth. It 
 was a foggy morning, threatening rain. They had 
 not gone far in the gloom, and were just passing a 
 small frame tavern, when again they were halted by 
 a picket guard. Again Arnold's passes were pro- 
 duced and carried away to be read, and again was 
 the long waiting. Back through the misty darkness 
 came a dim figure from the tavern. The passes 
 were all right ; they might proceed. 
 
 Then the long climb of a stony hill, the riders 
 and daybreak reaching the top about the same time. 
 If Andre welcomed that foggy morning light after 
 the night full of fears, he was soon to long for the 
 concealing blackness again. Descending the hill 
 into a little valley, they were riding more cheerfully 
 now, Andre almost buoyant, when he suddenly went 
 blank. A horseman was approaching, an American 
 officer who had been a prisoner in New York, and 
 who had met Andre there! It seemed the end had 
 come. The American officer stared hard. But 
 Andre's luck still held and the parties passed without 
 his detection. 
 
 A short ride farther brought the travelers to a 
 fork in the rising road, where stood an old weather- 
 worn house. They rode up behind it and asked for 
 breakfast. And there, sitting on the back steps,
 
 162 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 the Adjutant-General of the British army ate his 
 last meal as a free man. At this point, Smith again 
 failed Andre. Although it had been understood 
 that he was to conduct the young officer to the 
 British lines, yet here, fifteen miles short of that, 
 he refused to go farther. Again Andre was 
 helpless. 
 
 Alone, armed with Arnold's pass, the fugitive 
 pushed on. He was now entering the Neutral 
 Ground, the between-region, not occupied by either 
 army, but harried by irregular bands more or less 
 in sympathy with one side or the other. He knew 
 nothing of this country. The morning fog thick- 
 ened and changed to a fine, drizzling rain. He 
 became confused. He would try one road, then 
 turn back and try another. He was forced to make 
 inquiries, which was dangerous. People looked 
 askance at the strangely garbed, muffled figure on 
 the fine horse with its handsome saddle and bridle, 
 and with its mane and tail filled with burrs. 
 
 But, by this route or that, Andre worked toward 
 the British lines, and by the middle of the forenoon 
 was galloping along the old post-road near Tarry- 
 town, and seeming in a fair way to be back soon 
 among his friends. That was not to be. Now, 
 just ahead the road crossed a stream flowing 
 through a dark ravine. As the galloping horse 
 clattered over the bridge, three men sprang up from
 
 A NIGHT OF TREASON 163 
 
 the bushes at the wayside, and a musket was pre- 
 sented at the rider's breast. 
 
 Andre seems to have wholly lost his presence of 
 mind. While he had no means of telling to which 
 side his assailants belonged, if he had promptly 
 shown Arnold's pass he would have been safe in any 
 event. If his captors were of the Americans, the 
 pass would secure his release; if they were of the 
 British, he would need no release. But, misled by 
 appearances, he thought himself among Royalists, 
 and imprudently declared that he was a British 
 officer. His guess was wrong. His three captors, 
 little more than boys, whose names were Paulding, 
 Williams, and VanWart, now announced that they 
 were Americans. At that Andre started, became 
 more confused, and produced Arnold's pass. But it 
 was too late. He was seized and searched, and 
 the telltale papers found in his boots. "He is a 
 spy!" exclaimed Paulding. Despite Andre's efforts 
 to purchase his release, his captors hurried him to 
 the nearest American post, where to the commander, 
 Colonel Jameson, they delivered him and the papers 
 he had carried. 
 
 Then the unaccountable thing happened. Jame- 
 son, with all the evidence before his eyes, could not 
 or would not believe the story they so plainly told 
 of the treason of his superior officer, Arnold. And 
 so, while he at once sent a letter and the papers
 
 164 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 found on Andre to Washington, he also sent a letter 
 to Arnold advising him of the capture. It was a 
 regrettable act of faith and of foolishness opening 
 the way for the traitor's escape.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 SAVING AMERICA'S GIBRALTAR 
 
 WHILE the courier bearing Jameson's com- 
 munication to Washington was galloping 
 over the road toward Hartford, the commander-in- 
 chief and his military company were returning from 
 that town along another route. On the morning 
 of Monday, September 25, they were riding down 
 the east bank of the Hudson toward Arnold's head- 
 quarters, known as the Robinson house, which was 
 almost directly across the river from West Point. 
 They were two or three days ahead of the time 
 when they were expected to return, and word had 
 been sent on telling Arnold of their coming and that 
 they would that morning breakfast with him. 
 
 Suddenly Washington turned his horse from the 
 road leading to the Robinson house into a lane 
 running down to the edge of the river. Lafayette, 
 surprised, reminded him of their breakfast engage- 
 ment and that Mrs. Arnold would be waiting for 
 them. There came that winning smile of the 
 commander-in-chief, the more winning for its infre- 
 quency. The beautiful Philadelphia girl who had 
 become Arnold's second wife, had just arrived from 
 
 165
 
 166 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 the South with their baby and joined her husband 
 in his new headquarters. 
 
 "Ah, I know," said Washington, "you young 
 men are all in love with Mrs. Arnold. Go and 
 breakfast with her, and tell her not to wait for me. 
 I must go down to examine the redoubts on this 
 side of the river." 
 
 But even breakfast and a pretty hostess could not 
 lure Lafayette and Knox from their chief; so two 
 aides, Hamilton and McHenry, were sent ahead 
 with apologies, while their superior officers turned 
 down the little lane leading to the redoubts. 
 
 A short gallop brought Hamilton and McHenry 
 to Arnold's headquarters. It was a long, rambling 
 house standing in a lonely spot, and certainly a 
 forlorn home for the gay society girl who had mar- 
 ried Arnold. The two young officers joined the 
 household in the breakfast-room, with its quaint 
 low-beamed ceiling and heavy-paneled fireplace. 
 For a while it was a cheery gathering chatting over 
 the coffee-cups. The pretty young hostess was 
 happy to have agreeable visitors at that lonely 
 house in the Highlands. As for Arnold, he seems 
 to have carried off the situation well. Black treason 
 in his heart, he gave no sign. But it was a trying 
 moment for him. Though he supposed that Andre 
 had safely regained the British lines, and that the 
 arranged attack upon West Point would soon be 
 made, and though he had already weakened the de-
 
 SAVING AMERICA'S GIBRALTAR 167 
 
 fenses preparatory to the surrender that was to 
 make him a wealthy British officer, yet this unex- 
 pectedly early return of Washington might delay 
 or defeat the whole scheme. 
 
 However, anxiety for the success of his treason 
 was now to give way to apprehension for his own 
 safety. Another horseman was at the door, and 
 in a moment the fatal letter from Jameson advising 
 Arnold of Andre's arrest and of the papers found 
 upon him having been sent to Washington, was in 
 the traitor's hands. Never losing his composure, 
 Arnold rose from the table, pleading business that 
 must take him at once to West Point. 
 
 His wife followed him upstairs and at his hur- 
 ried confession fell senseless to the floor. There 
 was a knock at the chamber door ; a messenger had 
 arrived announcing the approach of Washington. 
 With that, the last of the traitor's composure went. 
 Panic-stricken, he wildly ordered a horse and gal- 
 loped down to the river, where his barge was 
 moored. He hurried the rowers aboard, cursing 
 because they were not armed, and pushed out into 
 the stream. Crouching in the boat, urging his men 
 to greater effort, and nervously cocking and un- 
 cocking two pistols held in his jerking hands, he 
 desperately strained toward his only hope, the 
 Vulture. 
 
 But a short time after the traitor fled from the 
 Robinson house, Washington, Lafayette, and Knox
 
 168 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 arrived there. They were informed that Arnold 
 had been called to West Point, and that Mrs. 
 Arnold was indisposed. The chief presumed that 
 the sudden call to West Point had to do with prepa- 
 ration for his own reception there, as he intended 
 to visit the fortifications. He and his generals took 
 a hasty breakfast, and then all of the party except 
 Hamilton set out to cross the river. When their 
 boat neared the other side what new courage and 
 strength came to Washington as he gazed upon 
 those towering highlands that crowded close their 
 peaks and crags in stern guard over his one great 
 fortress, West Point! How confidently he gazed 
 up there, America's Gibraltar, and a tried and 
 trusted fighter for freedom in command ! 
 
 Now soon would roar forth the welcoming voice 
 of the great fortress, thirteen guns in salutation 
 to the commander-in-chief. Instead, a puzzled look 
 came to the general's face. Except for the whistle 
 of the Bob White and the caw of the crow from 
 those autumn-tinted hills the silence was unbroken. 
 An officer, full of apologies, came hastening down 
 a rugged path to the landing. He had not known; 
 the visit was a surprise. Washington interrupted 
 him. "Is not General Arnold here?" "No, sir, he 
 has not been here for two days." Perplexed, the 
 chief took up his inspection of the fortress. He 
 was amazed at the condition in which he found it. 
 Doubtless a sharp reprimand was shaping in his
 
 SAVING AMERICA'S GIBRALTAR 169 
 
 mind as he recrossed the river toward the Robinson 
 house. But still it was with no shadow of suspicion 
 of his trusted general that he landed at Arnold's 
 pier. 
 
 Then Hamilton came hurrying up. He took his 
 commander aside, spoke a few low quick words, and 
 placed a package of papers in his hands. After 
 circuitous travel, Jameson's letter to Washington 
 with its accompanying papers taken from Andre 
 had at last caught up with the chief, and had been 
 delivered at the Robinson house while he was in- 
 specting West Point. Now, suddenly, the monstrous, 
 startling story of Arnold's treason stared Washing- 
 ton in the face ! 
 
 The commander-in-chief took the blow with iron 
 self-control. To Knox and Lafayette only did he 
 communicate the intelligence. His only comment 
 was, "Gentlemen, whom can we trust now?" But 
 no time was lost in vain regrets. The situation was 
 still full of danger. Though the treasonable plot 
 had failed, yet weakened West Point was now 
 vulnerable; Arnold with all his knowledge of the 
 fortress was with the enemy, and an attack in force 
 might be expected that very night. Washington's 
 mind worked quickly, his orders coming thick and 
 fast. Everybody about him was kept busy, and 
 couriers were sent flying in all directions. Instantly, 
 upon a forlorn hope, Hamilton had been despatched 
 at the top of his horse's speed down to Verplanck's
 
 170 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Point, only to find himself too late to intercept the 
 traitor. Hard riders swept through the hills, 
 ordering in Arnold's scattered detachments, and 
 calling* upon Greene for a whole division of the main 
 army. 
 
 Strange and fortunate that just at this time the 
 commander-in-chief, who so rarely through the 
 whole Revolution left his main army, should happen 
 to be at this very spot ; that, when for the one time 
 in the war treason raised its hideous head, Wash- 
 ington was there ! 
 
 Aside from Lafayette and Knox, no one knew 
 the occasion of the chief's swift massing of forces. 
 But by this time more than one suspected. Toward 
 evening Washington, calm and collected, joined the 
 officers then at the Robinson house for dinner. 
 "Come, gentlemen," he said affably, "since Mrs. 
 Arnold is indisposed and the general is absent, let 
 us sit down without ceremony." Looking about the 
 table as we can picture it that evening, one is im- 
 pressed with the youthfulness of most of those 
 present. This crisis found the commander sur- 
 rounded by his boy officers, as they might be called. 
 Perhaps most were in their early twenties. After 
 dinner Washington, who was deeply affected by 
 the sufferings of Mrs. Arnold, went with two of the 
 aides to visit her. She was prostrated with grief, 
 and at times on the verge of distraction. The gen- 
 eral made every provision for her comfort.
 
 SAVING AMERICA'S GIBRALTAR 171 
 
 Night dosed down upon the hills of the Hudson, 
 a night of anxiety, and of pitch darkness, and of 
 torrents of rain. Washington's work was done. 
 Under his orders, out in the blackness and the driv- 
 ing storm, keen sentinels were watching at every 
 pass ; in little boats the water-guards were patrolling 
 the river; hurrying scattered forces were still gath- 
 ering back to the betrayed fortress; and loyal, 
 hard-fighting Anthony Wayne with the detachment 
 from the main army was coming in record march 
 through the ink-black defiles of the mountains. 
 Back at the Robinson house the long hours wore on 
 in quiet. Yet, for the guard standing outside 
 Washington's door, the stillness was broken by a 
 steady measured footfall within the room, ceaseless 
 throughout the night. 
 
 At last morning broke across the Hudson to a 
 sigh of relief from the imperiled posts in the High- 
 lands. Qinton had not seized the opportunity. By 
 another night West Point again would be im- 
 pregnable. 
 
 Washington remained at the Robinson house but 
 a day or two longer. After seeing Mrs. Arnold 
 started for Philadelphia in her carriage, with her 
 baby and her maid and under proper escort, he 
 assembled his own military company again and they 
 set forth for the main army. Crossing the Hudson 
 at King's Ferry, where, unsuspicious, they had so 
 lately crossed with Arnold, they took their way
 
 172 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 down the west bank to a little Dutch hamlet called 
 Tappan. To this neighborhood, almost on the 
 boundary line between New York and New Jersey, 
 Washington had directed Greene to move the army 
 in his absence. 
 
 Now as he rode down out of the hills, there before 
 him were the long white lines of the tented forces 
 stretching across the autumn-painted slopes. A 
 snug encampment, one would say, but Washington 
 knew the rags and the distress that it covered. 
 His was a warm welcome. The ugly story of 
 Arnold's treason had reached the soldiers, with wild 
 rumors of an attempt to capture their loved 
 leader. Welcome was the sight of the tall, gallant 
 horseman in buff and blue towering above his 
 officers as he rode into Tappan that Thursday 
 evening, September 28, "to the great Joy of the 
 Army." 
 
 On the edge of the handful of homes that made 
 Tappan, there was a house standing a little back 
 from the road. It was a quaint one-story building 
 with the threshold of its Dutch doorway on a level 
 with the ground. Here Washington made his head- 
 quarters. Entering, the commander found himself 
 in a large room with an oddly tiled fireplace, the 
 windows looking out upon a quiet scene, a little 
 creek meandering by. At once he appointed a 
 military court to pass judgment upon Andre, whom 
 he had ordered here for trial. It was about dusk
 
 SAVING AMERICA'S GIBRALTAR 173 
 
 of that same evening when, under strong guard, 
 Andre was brought up the little main street and 
 safely lodged in the stone tavern. 
 
 How different was the treatment he was receiving 
 from that accorded by the British to the young 
 American captain, Nathan Hale, when he was cap- 
 tured as a spy! Every courtesy was being shown 
 Andre, and now he was to have fair trial; while 
 Hale was loaded with abuse, denied trial, and 
 hanged immediately. 
 
 The military court appointed by Washington (of 
 which Greene, Knox, Lafayette, and Von Steuben 
 were members) convened in the village church. 
 Before an impressive bench of judges stood young 
 Andre, dressed as when he was captured. And 
 from the first moment a profound pathos shadowed 
 the whole proceeding. Not that the judges or the 
 prisoner gave way to sentimentality or to melo- 
 drama. If military crime was there, it was not to 
 be condoned because of youth or grace or winning 
 personality. Yet in every mind was the thought 
 that at best a pitifully one-sided justice was being 
 done. In a sense Arnold had forced Andre into his 
 character as a spy. And now the greater offender, 
 for whom in every mind burned indignation and 
 contempt, had escaped; while the lesser, who had 
 won every heart, was facing the penalty. 
 
 But sternly the judges did their duty, and bravely 
 the prisoner heard their sentence, that he suffer
 
 174 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 death. It is said that Washington sitting in his 
 headquarters before the old Dutch fireplace hesi- 
 tated over signing the death-warrant; and that he 
 had to master his trembling pen to its purpose. 
 However, if the chief's hand was uncertain, his 
 convictions were not, and now his signature put an 
 end to the last hope for Andre. 
 
 Monday, October 2, 1780; a golden autumn day. 
 The heavy shutters on the west side of Washington'^ 
 headquarters are closed, not against the flood of 
 sunshine but to shut out the sight on the low hill 
 at the edge of the village. However, hundreds, 
 thousands of people from all the country round are 
 crowding about that hill. Upon its flat top a 
 strangely high gibbet is outlined gruesomely against 
 the sky. An army wagon is drawn up beneath, and 
 upon it stands the slender, graceful figure of Andre. 
 Except for sash and sword and spurs he is now in 
 his full British uniform of scarlet and gold. An 
 officer stands with a watch in his hand, his sword 
 raised. 
 
 It is within a moment of high noon. Andre is 
 very white, but very straight and very firm. Some- 
 thing of the old smile, that had won even his captors, 
 is on his lips as his own hands tie the handkerchief 
 over his face and place the noose about his neck. 
 The people see poorly now, for their tears. The 
 officer looks at his watch, his raised signal sword
 
 SAVING AMERICA'S GIBRALTAR 175 
 
 drops. A flash of falling, swinging scarlet. A great 
 audible wave of grief sighing through the thou- 
 sands. And the story of Benedict Arnold's treason 
 is finished.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 FIGHTING IN THE CAROLINAS 
 
 THE days following Andre's execution were 
 days of steady rain, as though nature sought 
 to wash from the land the stain of treason. Soon 
 search for food carried the distressed American 
 army on again, this time into the picturesque New 
 Jersey country along the Passaic River. There in 
 October was made the last encampment before 
 going into winter quarters. Tradition has it that 
 a general apprehension at this time of an attempt 
 to capture Washington had something to do with 
 the selection of this readily defensible position, and 
 of the general's personal headquarters there. He 
 established himself in the handsome house of 
 Colonel Dey, some distance from the main army, 
 but well located to prevent surprise. Headquarters 
 looked like a camp itself, and a bustling one. About 
 the house were the tents of the chief's Life Guards, 
 numbers of baggage-wagons always ready, and 
 farther out the stables of the many horses; while 
 moving through all were the patrolling sentries and 
 the numerous grooms and servants. 
 
 Several miles away, at the other end of the tented 
 176
 
 FIGHTING IN THE CAROLINAS 177 
 
 army, was the camp of Lafayette's corps, with his 
 headquarters. By now this was the finest corps 
 Washington had. And the mutual admiration be- 
 tween the soldiers and the young commander was 
 the talk of the army. He had at his own expense 
 largely reclothed the men. They looked smart and 
 military, their crowning glory being stiff leather 
 helmets carrying long red and black plumes. There 
 was always something doing at Lafayette's camp. 
 And his little army showed for it. Care and train- 
 ing so occupied the proud young commander that 
 he scarcely took time to eat or to sleep. He some- 
 times had his men out on parade before daylight. 
 But, alas, not one opportunity had come for our 
 fine light infantry corps to win distinction! 
 
 In those October days Washington, in his head- 
 quarters at the Dey house, was casting many an 
 anxious thought toward the South, from which no 
 news but bad news came to him. Since that dis- 
 astrous defeat of Gates by Cornwallis at Camden, 
 it had seemed that the Carolinas were lost. With 
 virtually no American force left in the field, Corn- 
 wallis had set boastfully forth to complete the 
 subjugation of the whole South. And, partly by 
 overcoming small bands of patriots, partly by com- 
 pelling the allegiance of the people, he had made 
 no small headway. 
 
 About the middle of the month Washington's 
 anxiety must, for a moment anyhow, have given
 
 178 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 way to amusement upon the arrival of a letter from 
 Congress asking him to appoint a general to take 
 the place of Gates in the South. A pleasant indica- 
 tion of chastened spirit in that body after its foolish 
 and offensive appointment of Gates without even 
 consulting the commander-in-chief ! Washington 
 showed his appreciation of the situation by appoint- 
 ing his best general, Greene, to take command in 
 the Southern field. But at the same time he wrote 
 to Congress: "I think I am giving you a general, 
 but what can a general do without men, without 
 arms, without clothing, without stores, without 
 provisions ?" 
 
 With Greene on his way to supplant Gates, 
 Washington felt easier. And in a few days he was 
 further cheered by a bit of good news that came up 
 from the South. Major Ferguson, one of the best 
 partisan commanders under Cornwallis, had come, 
 in the congenial work of subjugating the Carolinas, 
 to a fine mountain region along their dividing 
 boundary line. That the region was all right is 
 shown by its being sought to-day by thousands of 
 tourists for its health-giving climate. But it had 
 proved a poor health resort for Ferguson and his 
 troops. Somehow, in that portion of the Carolinas 
 and the neighboring parts of Tennessee and Ken- 
 tucky armed patriots had seemed to rise out of the 
 earth. Not soldiers but picturesque backwoodsmen 
 in rough dress with fringed hunting-shirts; sprigs
 
 FIGHTING IN THE CAROLINAS 179 
 
 of hemlock were in their hats, knives and toma- 
 hawks in their belts, and in their hands that long 
 frontier rifle that usually spoke but once to the same 
 man. 
 
 The rising sun of October 7 had found Ferguson 
 and his eleven hundred men at bay on top of a 
 considerable eminence called King's Mountain. 
 There they had thought themselves safe from any 
 force that could be brought against them. But they 
 had not reckoned on the ways of the back-woods- 
 men. About one thousand of those old Indian- 
 fighters had promptly started up the mountain, not 
 in a wild charge that could have been easily met, 
 but in open order, each man dodging behind tree or 
 rock, and keeping up a cool, deadly firing. Despite 
 desperate charges by the British, the Americans had 
 crept slowly upward till they closed in at the summit. 
 Then quickly it had all ended. Ferguson, shot 
 through the heart, had fallen from his white horse 
 as it plunged down the mountain side, and what 
 were left of his men had surrendered. 
 
 That was the news that now came up from the 
 South to General Washington. No great affair, 
 and yet a cheering event, and destined to prove one 
 of the turning-points of the Revolution. The 
 sweeping little victory was to renew the courage of 
 the Southern patriots, and to pave the way for the 
 work of Greene. 
 
 However, in the North, where still it was sup-
 
 180 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 posed that the war was to be won or lost, the 
 campaign was closing drearily enough. It was not 
 merely that, despite all effort, nothing had been 
 accomplished; it was more the loss of ability to 
 accomplish. Not only were the distresses of the 
 army so great that "it was scarcely within the power 
 of description to give an adequate idea of them"; 
 but the government behind the army was going to 
 pieces. All effective unity of action between the 
 States seemed to have broken down. Under such 
 conditions the campaign of 1780 was ending. 
 Would there even be another? The commander- 
 in-chief looked hopelessly toward the impotent 
 Congress, pitifully toward his wretched army, and 
 doubted it ! And when Washington's mighty faith 
 wavered, there was small hope for American inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 But work must go on without hope sometimes. 
 Now the next step is plain enough. It is pointed 
 out by every nipping blast of the almost wintry 
 winds whipping across the Preakness hills. So, one 
 Monday morning, November 27, all is bustle and 
 commotion in the main army as it breaks camp for 
 the march to winter quarters. The troops are to 
 be scattered this time in rather widely separated 
 cantonments near the Hudson. Listen to the drums 
 and the fifes as the men swing out upon the march, 
 crowding and choking the diverging roadways. At 
 headquarters is quite a brilliant gathering. Aside
 
 FIGHTING IN THE CAROLINAS 181 
 
 from the American officers are several young French 
 nobles from Newport, who have been visiting the 
 camp, and their showy uniforms add an air of 
 brightness to the scene. At last partings are over; 
 Washington is on his way to New Windsor on the 
 Hudson a little above West Point, where he is to 
 make his winter headquarters, and Lafayette and 
 the young French officers are off for a visit to Phila- 
 delphia. 
 
 The Frenchmen made a gay little company. In 
 spirited rebellion at the dull closing of the campaign, 
 they rode out of their way and exposed themselves 
 on the bonk of the Hudson opposite the New York 
 posts in a vain effort to draw a few parting shots 
 from the enemy. 
 
 Washington, with his suite, rode on in his direc- 
 tion more gravely. Doubtless he was mounted now 
 on one of the fine horses just presented to him by 
 the State of Virginia; for by this time all his own 
 thoroughbreds from Mount Vernon had been worn 
 out in the service. It was on December 6 that the 
 commander finished his journey up the Hudson, 
 riding that wintry evening into New Windsor. The 
 little river town stretched thin along the bank, where 
 the frowning bluffs drew grudgingly back to make 
 place for it. Washington, entering by the King's 
 Highway, did not ride into the heart of the com- 
 munity, where the tavern flanked the public square, 
 now proudly called Liberty Square. He drew rein
 
 182 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 on a low hill at the southern edge of the town, in 
 front of a stone house that was charming and pic- 
 turesque enough, but rather small, one would say, 
 for headquarters. 
 
 Within a few days, up from the South along the 
 King's Highway came another important traveler. 
 After a journey of hundreds of miles through cold 
 and rain and snow, a coach and four, with attend- 
 ants in white and scarlet, drew up before headquar- 
 ters doorway. Once more Lady Washington had 
 arrived to join her husband for the winter season. 
 That meeting was not all pleasure. By this time 
 the eye of a devoted wife could perceive evidences 
 of war strain in even the vigorous commander-in- 
 chief. Six years not only of fighting but of holding 
 his country up to fighting, had left their mark upon 
 the big Virginian. Perhaps in no way did the strain 
 show more than in the longing, that had become 
 ceaseless and poignant, to get back to his quiet 
 home life at Mount Vernon. 
 
 Failing that, he found comfort in the new home 
 life now at military headquarters. The old Dutch 
 house, with its long sweeping roof and with the 
 hooded dormer windows like half-closed eyes look- 
 ing out upon the river, was homey and comfortable. 
 And a domestic bit we catch as we see the general 
 seated, not upon his war-horse but in his wife's 
 coach, driving with her about New Windsor and 
 among the officers' quarters.
 
 FIGHTING IN THE CAROLINAS 183 
 
 For the first time in five years Lady Washington 
 had joined her husband early enough in the winter 
 to be with him for the Christmas season. She was 
 determined that this time he should have something 
 of the old Mount Vernon holiday cheer. 
 
 So now the season finds headquarters decked in 
 the beautiful northern greens that answer very well 
 for the trailing cedar and the mistletoe of Virginia; 
 and Christmas Day finds a merry party gathered 
 about an old-time Virginia dinner. Young Alex- 
 ander Hamilton, who usually officiates at table, 
 being, like Lafayette, absent from headquarters, 
 Washington presides. At the other end of the 
 board is Lady Washington, and ranged between 
 them some twenty guests and members of the mili- 
 tary household. 
 
 As all stand about the table, the commander-m- 
 chief asks a blessing very gravely. The dinner 
 progresses in true Christmas cheer, with music by 
 the Life Guard band. Washington's negro body- 
 servant, Billy, his white woolly head held high, is 
 chief waiter, and with vast dignity. When fruit 
 and nuts are served the dinner is at its best, for the 
 general is exceedingly fond of nuts and does his 
 best talking as he eats them. With candle-lighting 
 time come young folks from the village and the 
 non-commissioned officers of the Guard, who dance 
 and make merry till the solemn hour of nine o'clock,
 
 184 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 when the company says good night and goes de- 
 corously home. 
 
 In the opening days of 1781, Washington knew 
 that, despite the heartening victory at King's Moun- 
 tain, the outlook in the South was getting darker. 
 He knew that Clinton was materially reinforcing 
 Cornwallis, while Greene was finding scarcely 
 enough of Gates's forces left to reorganize. That 
 general wrote of his broken army : 
 
 I am not without great apprehension of its entire dis- 
 solution. . . . Nothing can be more wretched and dis- 
 tressing than the condition of the troops, starving with 
 cold and hunger ; without tents and without camp equipage. 
 ... A tattered remnant of some garment clumsily stuck 
 together with the thorns of the locust tree forms the sole 
 covering of hundreds. 
 
 When intelligence reached the commander-in- 
 chief of the exact location of the opposing forces 
 in the South, and of the strategy likely to develop, 
 he feared for Greene. 
 
 Cornwallis was near Winnsborough, in the upper 
 part of South Carolina; while Greene was near 
 Charlotte, in the lower part of North Carolina. 
 Greene, in the face of his superior enemy, now 
 violated a well-known rule of warfare by dividing 
 his little army into two forces, and widely separating 
 them. From that moment, as Washington well 
 knew, there was imminent danger that the two 
 divisions, unable to assist each other, would be 
 attacked and destroyed separately. But all rules are
 
 FIGHTING IN THE CAROLINAS 185 
 
 made to be broken now and then; and, for many 
 reasons, Greene was taking chances advisedly. 
 Events soon vindicated his act as one of the brilliant 
 strategical movements of the war. 
 
 He marched both divisions of his army boldly 
 down into South Carolina, one to the eastward and 
 the other to the westward of the position occupied 
 by the British at Winnsborough. So Cornwallis 
 soon found himself in an uncomfortable position 
 between two American forces, both insignificant but 
 difficult to combat. If he should move to attack 
 either one, he would leave the other in position to 
 gain important advantages and even to capture vital 
 points. 
 
 But something had to be done, and the British 
 general decided to strike first at the American force 
 on his left. This consisted of about eight hundred 
 men under Brigadier-General Morgan, a huge 
 Welshman who from a start as a mere wagoner had 
 become one of the ablest commanders of light troops 
 in the war. Against him Cornwallis sent about one 
 thousand men under the intrepid but brutal Tarle- 
 ton, whose name had come to spell terror in the 
 South. The two forces met on January 17 at a 
 place called the Cowpens, almost on the border line 
 between the two Carolinas. If Greene had broken 
 one military rule, Morgan now broke half a dozen 
 in arranging his troops for battle, and with the same 
 good results. Among other things, he took position
 
 186 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 with a river just behind him. To the objection that 
 the stream would prevent his retreat, he replied that 
 that was just what he wanted, that now they would 
 have to win. And win they did. Tarleton's force 
 was nearly annihilated in a short, fierce engagement 
 called the Battle of the Cowpens. 
 
 It was a welcome courier that brought to Wash- 
 ington, about the middle of February, the news of 
 this cheering event. But even the splendid little 
 victory could not greatly allay the chief's anxiety 
 over Greene's outnumbered and divided army. Im- 
 patiently, in that day of slow-moving despatches, he 
 awaited further intelligence. 
 
 By this time there was another matter also to 
 cause his solicitude as to the South. Clinton at New 
 York, not content with reinforcing Cornwallis in the 
 Carolinas, had sent a strong detachment that had 
 landed in Virginia to raid and plunder that State. 
 It added nothing to Washington's peace of mind to 
 learn that the expedition was under the command 
 of Benedict Arnold, now a brigadier-general in the 
 British army. Indeed, the calm chief was inwardly 
 aflame at the thought of the arch traitor, arrayed 
 in British uniform, and turning upon his own 
 countrymen. 
 
 Washington at once took steps to meet this new 
 invasion of the South ; and not merely with the idea 
 of protecting Virginia but in a desperate hope of 
 capturing Arnold. The only chance lay in a com-
 
 FIGHTING IN THE CAROLINAS 187 
 
 bined expedition, a land force to attack the 
 traitor's detachment, and a naval force to cut off 
 his escape by sea. The trouble was that the French 
 fleet, which must be looked to for the naval force, 
 was still blockaded by the British fleet at Newport. 
 Suddenly the elements conspired to sweep away that 
 difficulty. There came a violent storm, which so 
 scattered and crippled the British vessels that the 
 French were able to run the blockade and sail south- 
 ward to blockade Arnold's ships in the waters of 
 Virginia. 
 
 A French officer in very brilliant uniform and 
 with rose-colored plumes in his helmet seemed a 
 most fit messenger to bring to Washington the wel- 
 come news of the great storm. Promptly the general 
 organized a land force to cooperate with the fleet, 
 ill as he could afford to spare the men. The detach- 
 ment consisted of twelve hundred light infantry, and 
 was at once started upon its long march to Virginia. 
 The command was given to Lafayette, who had just 
 arrived at New Windsor from Philadelphia. He 
 lingered at headquarters a day or two for the final 
 preparations and instructions, which included the 
 order that if Arnold was caught he should be 
 summarily hanged. 
 
 Now it is the twenty-second of February, not the 
 honored day of the calendar, in that year 1781, that 
 it has since become, but already a day of significance 
 to Lafayette. And on this day the young French
 
 188 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 officer issues from headquarters, draws his military 
 cloak against the stormy weather, mounts his horse, 
 and canters off down the King's Highway to join 
 his troops marching southward. Lafayette is on his 
 way to his greatest campaign in behalf of liberty in 
 America.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 RETREATING TO VICTORY 
 
 FROM that February day of 1781, in which 
 Lafayette started on his expedition against 
 Arnold, Ihe American Revolution was shaping to 
 its close upon a Southern battle-field. Both the 
 American and the British commanders-in-chief had 
 now detached heavily to the South; and there, or 
 on the way there, were now the men who were to 
 scheme and march and fight until the opposing 
 armies should lock horns ready for Washington's 
 final blow at Yorktown. Not that even the two 
 commanders-in-chief yet saw all this. They still 
 glared at each other across the wintry waste between 
 New Windsor and New York, and planned each 
 other's destruction in great combats to be staged 
 along the Hudson. But both were watching intently 
 the operations in the South. 
 
 Brokenly the news came up to Washington as 
 to Greene's continued struggle with Cornwallis. It 
 had turned out that despite the striking success at 
 the Cowpens circumstances had compelled both 
 divisions of Greene's army to at once retreat north- 
 ward; and Washington knew that they were in 
 
 189
 
 190 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 breathless flight across North Carolina, before the 
 pursuing Cornwallis. It was such a race as warfare 
 seldom presents three flying columns, one of 
 Greene's on each hand and that of Cornwallis 
 thrusting up between. The two American forces, 
 gradually converging, were desperately striving to 
 come together ahead of the enemy; while the 
 British force was being driven up as a wedge to 
 prevent this, and in the hope of destroying Greene's 
 two divisions separately. 
 
 How anxiously Washington, from his far-away 
 quarters in the Hudson Highlands, was following 
 that mad upward race across North Carolina ! How 
 well he could picture it all! He knew the country 
 down there, and he knew the conditions. Keenly 
 he was visioning the outnumbered Americans, 
 ragged, hungry, sleepless; pressing on over vast 
 stretches of forests and barrens; fording midnight 
 rivers swollen by torrential rains; desperately turn- 
 ing now upon close-pressing foe, the mounted rear- 
 guard wheeling and charging to gain time for the 
 exhausted forces; then on again through endless 
 forest aisles, flaming pine knots lighting the trails ; 
 on out of one river into another; the men wet, 
 shivering, failing; but ever just behind them the 
 on-coming army of Cornwallis! And what was to 
 be the end of it all? Could Greene escape? Was 
 another American army, like that of Gates, to be
 
 RETREATING TO VICTORY 191 
 
 annihilated? Washington could only watch and 
 hope. 
 
 If he looked to his other force in the South, that 
 of Lafayette, the prospect was no more satisfactory. 
 The young marquis, in his expedition against 
 Arnold, had carried his troops part way down 
 Chesapeake Bay, but had been compelled to halt 
 because of a failure of the French fleet to cooperate. 
 The French had sailed down the coast and almost 
 into the Chesapeake, when they were overtaken by 
 the English fleet, which had promptly set out after 
 them. A battle had ensued in which both sides suf- 
 fered severely, and thereupon the French had 
 relinquished their purpose and returned to Newport. 
 Not receiving the naval support, Lafayette had been 
 compelled to abandon his undertaking; and the end 
 of March found him disconsolately preparing to 
 return northward with his detachment. 
 
 So the spring of 1781 opened darkly for Wash- 
 ington as to both of his forces in the South. But 
 matters mended. About the first of April he heard 
 again from Greene, and we can almost catch the 
 sigh of relief that came. The two retreating di- 
 visions of Greene's army had outmarched, out- 
 manoeuvered, the enemy; and, after a final dash 
 across the Dan River, stood united upon Virginia 
 soil where, for want of boats, the British could not 
 reach them. One of the ablest retreats in history 
 had come to an end. And virtually a victorious
 
 192 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 one. There was the British army, foiled of its 
 purpose ; stripped of its baggage, sacrificed to hasten 
 the frantic chase; and drawn over two hundred 
 miles away from its base of supplies. 
 
 And that was not all ; the good news kept coming. 
 Cornwallis, balked at- the Dan, had turned back 
 southward; and Greene, after receiving some rein- 
 forcements, had recrossed the river in pursuit. To 
 be sure, he had not gone far before Cornwallis 
 turned upon him and soundly whipped him in a 
 battle at Guilford Court House. But that mattered 
 little. 
 
 The fact is that that was Greene's way of win- 
 ning. He always was peculiarly unlucky in battle; 
 and yet his defeats were equal to other generals' 
 victories. That was because of his superb strategy. 
 The opposing general usually won the fight; while 
 Greene won what they were fighting for. So it 
 had been at Guilford Court House. The battle had 
 left the victorious Cornwallis so crippled and so 
 hampered by the superior strategy of his opponent 
 that there was nothing to do after all but to retreat. 
 And this time he had given up the struggle with 
 Greene, and had retired eastward to the coast at 
 Wilmington. 
 
 Thereupon the American general, his strategy 
 ever faultless, had simply ignored his retreating 
 enemy, and had started southward upon a campaign
 
 RETREATING TO VICTORY 193 
 
 of his own, a campaign that was to win back the 
 conquered States of South Carolina and Georgia. 
 
 So April saw the commander-in-chief a good deal 
 relieved as to Greene, though still anxious for his 
 welfare. However, immediately a new element of 
 danger appeared in the sailing of still another 
 British force from New York southward. To meet 
 this move, Washington sent orders to Lafayette, 
 now returning northward, to about face and to 
 march to the support of Greene. Though, as the 
 chief gravely said, how that could be done without 
 money or credit was more than he could tell. 
 
 These orders found the marquis with his detach- 
 ment at the head of Chesapeake Bay. And now, 
 truly enough, the youthful general had a problem 
 on his hands. His unpaid, ill- fed, and pitifully 
 ragged soldiers were in no mood for the new ex- 
 pedition. There were black looks, murmurings, and 
 even desertions. But Lafayette knew his men, and 
 took his own way to handle them. He announced 
 that there was no need for desertion; that while 
 the detachment was setting out for difficult and 
 dangerous services, he did not care for any man 
 who was inclined to abandon him ; any such had only 
 to ask for a pass in order to be sent back to the 
 North. And nobody asked for a pass, and suddenly 
 "desertions were no longer in fashion." Before the 
 soldiers could change their minds again, the re- 
 sourceful marquis piled them into wagons and carts
 
 194 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 "to give their march the air of a frolic" and hurried 
 them southward. 
 
 On they went through forests and marshes, and 
 mostly in the rain, until they came to a town tilted 
 up on the slope of a hill beside a wide river. This 
 was perhaps the third or fourth town to be started 
 under the name of Baltimore; and it was the one 
 destined to become the metropolis that we know 
 to-day. Scarcely metropolitan was its appearance 
 on that April day of 1781; its little yellow, white, 
 and blue houses straggling up the hillside; though 
 even then there were a few rather pretentious homes, 
 standing proudly aloof from their neighbors. 
 
 Lafayette and his suite, straight and handsome 
 on their clattering horses, rode down Calvert Street 
 to a warm welcome. Baltimore Town had shown 
 such strict patriotism that it had given up all amuse- 
 ments, from theaters to cock-fights. But now the 
 Assembly Hall was thrown open, and a grand ball 
 was given in honor of Lafayette. He turned the 
 occasion to the advantage of his soldiers. While 
 the Baltimore worthies were toasting the French 
 nobleman, he was borrowing money from them upon 
 his personal obligation in order to provide his 
 shabby men with clothes and shoes ; and while Bal- 
 timore belles were artfully competing for the honor 
 of dancing with the gallant young jhero, he was quite 
 as artfully inducing them to put their fair fingers 
 to work making shirts.
 
 RETREATING TO VICTORY 195 
 
 It was a better-looking and a better-feeling little 
 army that Lafayette, on April 19, led on southward. 
 By this time the marquis knew that the British 
 under Phillips, who had succeeded Arnold were 
 about to start upon a raiding expedition in Virginia 
 up the James River. That meant an attack upon 
 Richmond, where the Americans had valuable mili- 
 tary stores. Lafayette resolved to race the British 
 commander for that goal, hoping to be able to save 
 the stores. 
 
 Now the way was down into the beautiful Vir- 
 ginia springtime which nobody had time to notice, 
 though on every hand the dogwood was spreading 
 its gleaming white tents, and the Judas-tree bloom- 
 ing like sleep-flushed Spring herself. Meanwhile 
 Phillips's marauding forces were moving rapidly 
 up the south side of the James River, the feeble 
 militia of the State falling back before them. Upon 
 Monday morning, April 30, they came out at a 
 point just opposite Richmond; but when they were 
 about to cross, they beheld an American force 
 drawn up in possession of the town. Lafayette 
 had won! The amazed and discomfited Phillips 
 glared and swore. Though outnumbering the 
 Americans, the British did not attack, but retired 
 down the James. 
 
 Now Lafayette had time to take a breath and 
 to look about. He probably thought that, except for 
 the military stores, this capital of Virginia that he
 
 196 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 had been racing to save was scarcely worth the 
 trouble. He beheld nothing of that scene of broad 
 mansions with white-pillared porticos, of court- 
 yards canopied in purple wistaria, of towers and 
 spires and great classic temple, that is the Richmond 
 of to-day. He was gazing about upon a disorderly 
 lot of miserable houses that looked as though they 
 might all slide down hill into the river, and no great 
 loss at that. Even these buildings were mostly 
 empty, the inhabitants having fled at the approach 
 of the British. In that shapeless wooden building 
 at the foot of the hill the Virginia Legislature 
 usually assembled ; but just now that too was empty, 
 the legislators having hastily adjourned to a village 
 in the mountains. 
 
 About this time two important things happened : 
 Lafayette, by a despatch from Greene, was given 
 full and independent command in Virginia; while 
 Phillips's command passed to no less a person than 
 Cornwallis himself, who came bringing his army 
 up from Wilmington. That made a much bigger 
 affair of this campaign in the Old Dominion. The 
 boy general, Lafayette, against the veteran com- 
 mander Cornwallis. And the people of Virginia 
 looked upon the protector assigned to them, and 
 "were aghast at his youth." 
 
 It was toward the end of May when Cornwallis, 
 his forces united with the Phillips detachment, set 
 buoyantly forth to conquer Virginia. His pros-
 
 RETREATING TO VICTORY 197 
 
 pects looked bright. He had five thousand men, 
 soon to be increased to eight thousand. Nothing 
 stood in the way of his design but young Lafayette. 
 The marquis was now at Richmond, removing the 
 last of the military stores to safer places. His little 
 detachment had been somewhat augmented, but 
 chiefly by unreliable militia, poorly armed when 
 armed at all; his whole force being vastly inferior 
 to that of Cornwallis. 
 
 The British general, confidently declaring, "The 
 boy cannot escape me," was soon nearing Richmond. 
 Lafayette, too weak to fight, was forced at the out- 
 set into a retreat, or, as he put it, into "a runaway 
 kind of war that I most heartily detest." He 
 marched rapidly northward, hoping to meet a small 
 American force under Wayne now coming to re- 
 inforce him. Cornwallis started in pursuit. 
 
 And so began a chase fraught with more danger 
 to American liberty than many a more pretentious 
 event. If Lafayette's little army should be caught, 
 it would inevitably be crushed; and Virginia, now 
 become the key to the situation in the South, would 
 be thrown open to the enemy. The chase was fast 
 and keen enough. The British had raided the fine 
 plantation stables, and upon Virginia race horses 
 went Tarleton's white riders. It must have been 
 the spirit of the flight that spoke when Lafayette 
 reported the crossing of the Rapidan River as the 
 crossing of the "Rapid Ann." But this retreat was
 
 198 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 not a matter of speed alone ; and through those days 
 of "runaway war" Lafayette showed no small 
 degree of generalship. At length Cornwallis aban- 
 doned pursuit, and got what consolation he could 
 by raiding the country about him. Tarleton even 
 captured several Virginia legislators; and, but for 
 being delayed by a late breakfast one morning, 
 would have got no less a person than the author of 
 the Declaration of Independence, now Governor of 
 Virginia. 
 
 By early June the retreating young marquis had 
 run well up the map into northern Virginia, looking 
 for Wayne. Then one day his eyes were gladdened. 
 Toward him along the forest road from the north 
 came an array of waving plumes. Lafayette knew 
 what that meant. "Mad Anthony" Wayne's troops 
 might be in tatters, but he would always see to it 
 that they had plumes, and the biggest in the army. 
 The array turned out to be principally plumes, the 
 number of men actually added to Lafayette's army 
 being distressingly small. However, now came a 
 turn of the tables. Though still with a force wholly 
 inferior to that of Cornwallis, the marquis turned 
 back toward his late pursuer. 
 
 By this time the British were threatening the 
 village of Albemarle Old Court House, where the 
 Americans had military stores. Nothing could have 
 pleased Cornwallis more than the news that Lafay- 
 ette was coming back to the relief of the place. But
 
 RETREATING TO VICTORY 199 
 
 while the British general was confidently preparing 
 for battle, the young Frenchman was busy reopen- 
 ing a disused and forgotten road, and making a 
 stealthy night march over it. Suddenly Cornwallis 
 discovered that "the boy" had stolen by him and 
 taken up a strong position in front of the threatened 
 village with its valuable stores, and was ready for 
 battle. 
 
 Perhaps this was the last straw in a discouraging 
 campaign for the English commander. He not only 
 declined the offer to fight, but withdrew his troops, 
 and started upon a long retreat back down the James 
 River. And that little forgotten road has never been 
 forgotten since, nor the new name that it took from 
 the young general's use of it. If you happen to-day 
 down Albemarle Old Court House way, anybody 
 will point out to you "the Marquis's Road." 
 
 As Cornwallis retreated down the James, out 
 upon the country he let loose his pillaging scarlet 
 horde, while he and his officers reveled in the lordly 
 historic homes along the way. "Shooting up" the 
 stately porticos as they entered, drinking rare wines 
 poured from cut-glass decanters, wantonly slashing 
 ancestral portraits done by the court painters of 
 England, gathering priceless plunder into baggage- 
 trains, they went down the line of the proud old 
 manors of the James. 
 
 Steadily Lafayette followed the retreating, raid- 
 ing forces, not driving them before him, as we
 
 200 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Americans usually put it, for he was far too weak 
 for that, but cleverly harassing their flanks and 
 rear-guard without permitting them effectively to 
 strike back ; and by his very boldness leading Corn- 
 wallis to suppose his force much greater than it 
 really was. Having but an insignificant body of 
 cavalry, he sometimes mounted a foot-soldier be- 
 hind each horseman in order to make a strong attack 
 quickly. Altogether he must have quite convinced 
 Cornwallis that the boy general was a worthy 
 antagonist, whether as pursuer or pursued. So, on 
 through the Virginia June-time, past stately old plan- 
 tation homes rose-embowered but war-ravished, 
 their treasures gone, their stables empty, their fields 
 bare the marquis led his little command, and won 
 the hearts of the Old Dominion as he passeji. He 
 was old enough, after all; nobody longer doubted 
 that. 
 
 Down toward the mouth of the James the British 
 would pass to the other side of the stream, and 
 Lafayette now pressed close, intending to attack 
 them when divided in crossing. On the afternoon 
 of July 6, according to intelligence brought to him, 
 the right moment had come, most of the retreating 
 army being reported as having passed to the other 
 side of the river. Night was approaching, and he 
 at once threw forward a party under Wayne to 
 attack the remaining forces of the enemy. But
 
 RETREATING TO VICTORY 201 
 
 quickly the marquis saw from the character of the 
 fighting that something was wrong. He rode out 
 alone upon a tongue of land projecting into the 
 stream, where he got a full view of the enemy. The 
 situation was clear enough then. His information 
 had been erroneous; scarcely any of the British 
 force had crossed the river; instead of attacking a 
 rear-guard only, Wayne was engaging the whole 
 British Army. In hot haste Lafayette spurred to 
 the field again. Exposing himself with reckless 
 bravery, he ordered Wayne to fall back upon troops 
 stationed to support him; and in the end, after a 
 gallant charge by that officer and after Lafayette 
 had two horses shot under him, the Americans made 
 a successful retreat from the unequal combat. 
 
 Cornwallis now crossed the river and resumed his 
 march to the seaboard. Embarking his army upon 
 transports, he sailed a little way up the Chesapeake, 
 and into the mouth of the next river above the 
 James, the York River. There in the early days 
 of August he disembarked his troops at a village 
 on the high bluffs, called Yorktown, and proceeded 
 to fortify it, and also Gloucester Point, on the 
 opposite bank. Little as the veteran English general 
 dreamed it, he was setting the stage for the last 
 scene in the drama of the American Revolution. 
 Now, with the British actors already on the boards, 
 it remained but to assemble the Americans and the
 
 202 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 French about this little Virginia village. And at 
 two points so far remote as the Hudson Highlands 
 and the West Indies preparations were already 
 making to that end.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE FINAL VENTURE 
 
 TURN to the scene on the Hudson in those 
 early August days of 1781. Stand on the 
 east bank of the noble river, there where its waters 
 are suddenly caught and narrowed in the grip of 
 the bluffs at Dobbs Ferry. That is where the 
 American main army is now, and has been for a 
 few weeks. But do not imagine from the brilliantly 
 clad troops you see that some military fair god- 
 mother has waved her wand over the rags of the 
 American soldiers. You are looking at the wrong 
 camp. For here also are the French forces from 
 Newport, the two allies at last united and ready for 
 joint action. 
 
 In long lines, the camps stretch from the river 
 out across the Greenburg hills, a beautiful valley 
 lying between the French and the Americans. 
 Washington, now in command of the united armies, 
 probably is not at the house called headquarters, 
 but in his open marquee on the hillside, looking with 
 perturbed gaze out over the warlike scene. 
 
 How long and how patiently he has striven for 
 203
 
 204 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 just this situation ; and now, how full it is of mock- 
 ery! In 'a last desperate hope he has overridden all 
 obstacles and united his armies to strike a decisive 
 blow somewhere, somehow, before the fast-waning 
 fighting spirit of the States shall snuff out entirely. 
 He has called Rochambeau ; and the French general 
 has come, bringing his splendid army. But what 
 of Washington's own army? There it is down by 
 the river, that little body of perhaps four thousand 
 men, half -clothed, poorly armed, borrowing food 
 from the French! It was to have been a force 
 several times as large, and well equipped, and there 
 was to have been money to enable Washington to 
 feed his troops, and to move them, and to launch 
 a campaign. But the States are war-weary, and 
 their sons have not come, and the war-chest is left 
 empty. 
 
 All this at a time peculiarly propitious if America 
 would but awake and act. For now Washington 
 knows that another and greater French fleet has 
 arrived in the West Indies, and is likely to appear 
 soon in American waters. To think that at such a 
 time the fighting spirit of the young republic should 
 fail! Small wonder if it is with troubled eyes that 
 George Washington is looking out from his 
 marquee upon this encampment on the Hudson. 
 
 The hot summer days went by. Now and then a 
 reconnaissance, perhaps a skirmish with the enemy, 
 as Washington felt out the possibilities of an attack
 
 THE FINAL VENTURE 205 
 
 upon New York; but for the most part just mis- 
 erable embarrassing inactivity. Something of 
 wonderment in the camp; something of impatience 
 too; but, topping all, an absorbing curious interest 
 of the two armies in each other. Perfect harmony 
 prevailed, and a growing mutual respect and 
 fraternal feeling. The French were not little 
 monkeys after all, as the English had said they 
 were; and as for the Americans, their very rags 
 won the hearts of their allies. On parade Wash- 
 ington's men were big-eyed at the elegance of the 
 army of France; while Rochambeau's men were 
 almost dim-eyed over the "nakedness" of the 
 patriots of America. And this, although those 
 patriots were at their smartest, fresh-shaven, their 
 tatters clean, and their heads powdered. 
 
 But nothing could keep down the high spirits 
 of the French. Their camps were scenes of merri- 
 ment, and neighborhood barns made banquet- and 
 dancing-halls. The gay young nobles, some scarcely 
 more than boys, won temporarily, anyway the 
 hearts of the country belles, though eyes had to 
 speak for tongues that were useless. And in turn 
 those young nobles themselves lost their hearts ; but 
 that was to Washington. It was a plain case of 
 hero-worship. When he sometimes visited their 
 camps, they "had not eyes enough to see him with." 
 They pronounced him magnificent. Then that 
 admired commander, so calm, seemingly so com-
 
 206 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 posed, would return to his own camp and wrestle 
 for the hundredth time with the humiliating prob- 
 lem before him. 
 
 At last, and suddenly, the days of humiliation 
 were numbered ; opportunity was at hand, desperate 
 opportunity, but opportunity for all that. It was 
 on Tuesday afternoon, August 14, that a messenger 
 from Newport came riding into camp with stir- 
 ring news, the great French fleet from the West 
 Indies was coming ! Admiral de Grasse with nearly 
 thirty ships of the line and carrying three thousand 
 land troops had already sailed and would put in at 
 Chesapeake Bay. 
 
 Never was opportunity seized upon more prompt- 
 ly. At once Washington determined upon a 
 superbly audacious undertaking, to march the 
 allied army over four hundred miles to the foot of 
 Chesapeake Bay; and there, with the French fleet 
 to prevent Cornwallis's escape, overwhelm the 
 British general at Yorktown. Of course, looking 
 at matters sanely and in cold blood, the thing simply 
 could not be done. Men were lacking. Money was 
 lacking. Time was lacking. Above all, the old 
 faith and fire of the people to put such a movement 
 through were lacking. However, it was not in cold 
 blood that the commander-in-chief was coming at 
 this situation. His whole being aflame with in- 
 dignation at the apathy of his country, at the dying 
 patriotism that was already whining for a dishon-
 
 THE FINAL VENTURE 207 
 
 orable peace, this man "born for the Revolution," 
 was become a pillar of fire to lead his fainting peo- 
 ple to liberty. 
 
 At once the doing of the impossible began. And 
 the first step was to lay upon the whole undertaking 
 the finger of secrecy. Clinton must not by any 
 chance come to know, and so be enabled to send 
 forces to the support of Cornwallis. Quite wisely 
 it was determined that the best way to conceal the 
 proposed movement from enemies was to conceal 
 it from friends as well ; so the great secret of Wash- 
 ington and Rochambeau was shared by few of even 
 those high in the allied command. Much caution 
 was used in selecting a special messenger to carry 
 the word to Lafayette, together with urgent instruc- 
 tions for him to spare no effort to hold Cornwallis 
 at Yorktown. 
 
 Now came George Washington's last great appeal 
 to what was left of the old spirit of '76. In every 
 direction he sent his calls keeping his secret where 
 he could, confiding it where he must for men, for 
 money, for equipment, for supplies. There was 
 scant response. After setting aside a most inade- 
 quate force to leave behind to guard the Hudson, 
 the commander-in-chief had perhaps two thousand 
 men to join the French for the expedition against 
 Cornwallis. As to money, little came. And the 
 generalissimo of the united armies had the mortifi-
 
 208 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 cation of marching his American forces upon money 
 of France, from the war-chest of Rochambeau ! 
 
 To deceive Clinton, every appearance was given 
 of an intended attack upon New York. Recon- 
 noitering parties were thrown forward in that direc- 
 tion; roads leading toward the city were repaired; 
 and great show made of siege preparations. Even 
 when, upon August 19, the march for Virginia 
 began, it was so cleverly conducted as to keep up 
 for some days this deceptive appearance. Though 
 the troops were put across the Hudson and moved 
 down the western side, their march was along such 
 roads, and included such demonstrations as indi- 
 cated an intention of passing around below the city 
 and attacking across Staten Island. Clinton was 
 completely deceived, and lost those precious days 
 in needless preparations for his own defense, while 
 Cornwallis went unwarned and unaided. 
 
 As for the allied armies themselves, they knew 
 not what to think. An American officer wrote, 
 "General Washington resolves and matures his 
 great plans and designs under an impenetrable veil 
 of secrecy." One of the French officers summed 
 up the mystery of the movement in his expressive, 
 "What to believe!" But for those young French 
 officers mystery was but an added charm in this 
 strange service of romance and adventure in 
 America. Gaily through the torrid heat they fol- 
 lowed their adored American leader, declaring him
 
 THE FINAL VENTURE 209 
 
 "a thousand times more noble and splendid at the 
 head of his army than at any other time." 
 
 Washington skilfully kept up his perplexing 
 manceuvers, giving specific orders for each move- 
 ment of each column, until nearly the end of 
 August. By that time the armies had got about 
 as far as they could go with any show of menacing 
 New York; then suddenly, to their own surprise, 
 they were headed boldly for the South. 
 
 Now the comniander-in-chief, his armies well 
 launched upon their great undertaking, left them 
 winding down through the summer valleys of New 
 Jersey, and rode rapidly ahead toward Philadelphia. 
 How well he knew that only in his personal efforts 
 along the way lay any hope of arousing the country 
 to the support of his daring movement! It was a 
 brilliant party of horsemen that went galloping off 
 in a cloud of dust down the hot, dry highway; for 
 with Washington rode Rochambeau and one or two 
 French generals, all with their staffs and trains of 
 attendants. 
 
 About noon of that Thursday, August 30, the 
 allied commanders were approaching Philadelphia. 
 Rolling swiftly out from the town along the high- 
 way came another cloud of dust, from which 
 emerged the city's troop of light-horse in bravest 
 attire and with much waving of high plumes. 
 Wheeling and falling into line, they formed an 
 escort for the distinguished travelers into the city.
 
 210 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 But soon a good share of the population became an 
 huzzaing escort through the streets as the party 
 made its way to the City Tavern, which had lately 
 taken the place of the old London Coffee House, 
 on Second Street. Here Washington and Rocham- 
 beau were enthusiastically received by the town 
 notables. They went to the home of Robert Morris 
 on Market Street (then called High), where they 
 were to be entertained. 
 
 Wherever Washington went that day, as to Inde- 
 pendence Hall to pay his respects to Congress, the 
 people, whose very idol he was, crowded about him. 
 Night fell, but they had not seen enough. Down 
 between the two great ancient lamps that flanked 
 the Morris doorway the noble figure came, and 
 patiently and courteously made a tour of the city 
 streets, illuminated in his honor. The common 
 people, who somehow were always strangely at one 
 with that lordly aristocrat, pressed close ; small boys 
 almost within touch of the elegant blue-and-buff 
 coat, and of the green-hilted sword with its spiral 
 trimmings of silver. And no one in the admiring 
 throng knew how deeply touched the big modest 
 hero was by such signs of the love and trust of his 
 countrymen. 
 
 But care and heavy responsibility were upon the 
 commander-in-chief that night; and when he re- 
 turned to the home of Robert Morris it was with 
 anxious thought for the outcome of the grave move-
 
 THE FINAL VENTURE 211 
 
 ment he had undertaken. Behind him, pressing on 
 rapidly now, were two armies coming at his call, 
 while the problem of their very subsistence stag- 
 gered even this man of infinite resource and un- 
 conquerable faith. The Americans were coming, 
 too, in a dangerous mood. Their pay long in 
 arrears, their temper was as ragged as their clothes. 
 Washington knew that only devotion to him held 
 them. Would even that hold them much longer? 
 As for money, there was none. And then, where 
 was De Grasse? Even here, no word from him. 
 Before this his fleet should be in the Chesapeake. 
 Were he to fail, what a tragic fiasco this allied 
 march into the South! But if such thoughts were 
 driving sleep from the chief that night, they were 
 not at all troubling the boys who had so proudly 
 trailed him in the Philadelphia streets ; they, in their 
 aroused patriotism, proceeded to settle the whole 
 matter off hand by throwing stones through the 
 windows of houses where Tories lived. 
 
 It was on Sunday afternoon, September 2, that 
 the American forces, who were in advance of the 
 French, approached Philadelphia. A sorry-looking 
 array and, truly enough, half mutinous. Through 
 the ranks was running the murmur that no people 
 deserved liberty who didn't fight themselves or pay 
 those who did fight. Probably no leader could 
 have taken those men a day's march farther except 
 that big horseman now galloping out from Phila-
 
 212 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 delphia, with his aides, to place himself at their 
 head for the march through the city. 
 
 That march was anything but a brilliant affair. 
 The streets were very dirty, and clouds of dust 
 settled thick upon the ragged soldiers. But the 
 people greeted them enthusiastically, and the calling 
 of fife and drum brought to the open windows so 
 many pretty powdered heads that for a while, per- 
 haps, the moody men forgot their troubles. The 
 march was straight through the city without a stop, 
 and then an encampment was made on the bank of 
 the Schuylkill. 
 
 The next two days witnessed the arrival of the 
 French Army in two divisions. Those were days 
 of boundless excitement in Philadelphia. As both 
 divisions halted outside the city to furbish up and 
 to put on gala decorations, they marched through 
 in such handsome array as the good Americans had 
 never dreamed of. At the head not merely fifes 
 and drums, but complete military bands that "de- 
 lighted the people"; then in endless lines the great 
 white army of the French king, with its many-hued 
 decorations and waving plumes and gorgeous silken 
 banners; the whole officered by resplendent beings 
 glittering with gold and jeweled orders, the proudest 
 nobility of Europe. No wonder the prim Quaker 
 town went wild in its excitement, and in its accent 
 too as it cried, "Vive le Roi!" "Vive la France!" 
 
 On the night of September 4 the French minister,
 
 THE FINAL VENTURE 213 
 
 La Luzerne, gave a dinner to the principal French 
 and American officers and city notables. Con- 
 spicuous in even that distinguished company were 
 the stately nobility and the graceful courtesy of the 
 American commander-in-chief. Quiet and com- 
 posed as ever, he gave no hint of the anguish he was 
 by this time enduring. Still no money! Still no 
 word from De Grasse 1
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 YORKTOWN 
 
 ON the morning of September 5, 1781, the two 
 allied chiefs left Philadelphia and moved on 
 southward again to precede the marching army; 
 Washington setting out on horseback, while Ro- 
 chambeau took boat to go down the Delaware as 
 far as Chester. The French commander soon made 
 the short sail down the river. Upon nearing the 
 Chester landing he saw a big man on the bank 
 wildly waving a handkerchief in one hand and his 
 hat in the other. Incredible as it seemed, that highly 
 excited man was no other than the dignified Ameri- 
 can commander-in-chief. The reserved George 
 Washington, his cocked hat in the air, his face aglow 
 with joy, and calling like a boy to Rochambeau that 
 a courier had just come, and that De Grasse was 
 in the Chesapeake ! As the French commander dis- 
 embarked, the two men embraced quite in French 
 fashion, and set off joyously to dine together. Then 
 on southward hastened the chief, leaving Rocham- 
 beau to follow more leisurely. Washington's anxie- 
 ties now centered about a little settlement on ahead 
 
 214
 
 YORKTOWN 215 
 
 at the upper end of Chesapeake Bay, called Head of 
 Elk, where he hoped to embark his troops to sail to 
 their destination. For days he had been sending his 
 appeals along the coast for the assembling of ves- 
 sels at this point, big boats, little boats, anything 
 that would carry soldiers and equipment down the 
 bay. 
 
 At this Head of Elk, too, he determined that 
 there must be money on hand for a further payment 
 to his troops, no matter what else was sacrificed for 
 the purpose. One of his pathetic calls for money 
 grew poetic in its intensity, as he wrote, "I wish it 
 to come on the wings of speed." It was September 
 6 when the tireless chief rode into the little settle- 
 ment on the upper waters of the Chesapeake. The 
 American forces, still nearer to mutiny, were al- 
 ready there, and Rochambeau and the French soon 
 arrived. But money was not there; nor anything 
 like enough boats! 
 
 Now Washington's call was such that there came 
 one day, not upon "the wings of speed," but upon 
 lumbering ox-carts, some good hard money. Not 
 enough, and, what there was of it, borrowed from 
 the French. It was in kegs, and the prospects of 
 American liberty brightened with the soldiers' eyes 
 as the oaken heads were knocked in. As to the 
 boats, nothing more could be done. A part of the 
 soldiers now embarked, but most of them marched
 
 2i6 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 on, and finally found tardy transportation, some at 
 Baltimore and some at Annapolis. 
 
 On September 8, the commander-in-chief, again 
 preceding Rochambeau, set out from Head of Elk. 
 A short stop at Baltimore, and then, with a single 
 aide, he was off again next morning. But it was 
 something besides military urgency that brought 
 him to his saddle at daybreak that Sunday. His 
 thoughts now were upon a spot to the southward, 
 almost in his direct course, where stood a house 
 looking out upon a broad river. A house he had 
 not seen for over six years, not since the beginning 
 of the war, his own home, Mount Vernon. It 
 would be a hard day's ride, but he determined that 
 that night he would rest beneath his own roof-tree. 
 
 Some time before midnight, under the full 
 Southern moon, the travelers rode through the old 
 town of Alexandria, asleep by the Potomac. Now 
 Mount Vernon was but a few miles away. If the 
 impatient Washington was trying to vision his 
 home-coming, he had some trouble in doing it. 
 He had never seen just the home he was now ap- 
 proaching. The Mount Vernon he had left in 1775 
 had been an unpretentious building, although he 
 had already begun to enlarge and beautify it. 
 Through the years since then the work had gone 
 on extensively. And now, as the homing rider in 
 the night came up out of a wild ravine and topped 
 the hill beyond, the house that he suddenly beheld
 
 YORKTOWN 217 
 
 white in the moonlight was the spacious mansion 
 that we all know so well to-day. 
 
 For three days the commander-in-chief was a 
 simple country gentleman at home with his wife 
 and his friends. Rochambeau came, and soon the 
 house was crowded with guests. Here Washington 
 appeared at his best, the central figure in a scene 
 of old-time Virginian hospitality. It was a short 
 respite. On September 12, he and Rochambeau 
 with their aides were again in the saddle. Almost 
 three days more of hard riding, and then, on the 
 afternoon of September 14 they were joyously re- 
 ceived in Lafayette's camp, which was then about 
 ten miles from Yorktown, at the village of 
 Williamsburg. With his horse on a run the mar- 
 quis came to meet them, and it is said that he threw 
 his arms around Washington in a most ardent em- 
 brace. So ended Lafayette's independent leader- 
 ship. He had made a notable campaign in the 
 South, and it closed with Cornwallis securely 
 trapped at Yorktown. 
 
 Now Washington took command of the Virginia 
 forces, including the French troops that had been 
 landed from the fleet of De Grasse. Within a few 
 days the allied armies coming from the North ar- 
 rived, giving the commander-in-chief a total of 
 > sixteen thousand men. 
 
 At five o'clock on the morning of September 28 
 the entire army, except a detachment sent to guard
 
 218 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Gloucester Point, moved from Williamsburg, and 
 by evening was marching along the York River, 
 approaching the final scene of its labors. There, 
 perched high on the river bluffs, the little village of 
 Yorktown; running raggedly around its land sides, 
 the British fortifications; within the works, Corn- 
 wallis and his army of about seventy-five hundred 
 veteran troops. 
 
 Promptly the allied forces took up their position 
 before the town, and gradually they drew a semi- 
 circle of intrenchments about it, sweeping from the 
 river front above around to the river front below. 
 By October 9 they had batteries in place and 
 that evening Washington put a match to the first 
 gun to be fired from the American works. From 
 that time the bombardment and the return fire were 
 almost continuous. 
 
 Two redoubts of the enemy, near the river, en- 
 filaded the allied trenches, and it was determined to 
 take them by storm. The capture of one redoubt 
 was entrusted to the Americans, and of the other to 
 the French. Among the Americans the honor fell 
 to a detachment from Lafayette's light infantry, 
 and among the French to a detachment from Baron 
 de Viomenil's chasseurs and grenadiers. On the 
 eve of the attack, the marquis and the baron had 
 some disagreement as to the merit of their re- 
 spective troops; and as the two storming-parties
 
 YORKTOWN 219 
 
 waited for the signal, it was in a considerable spirit 
 of rivalry. 
 
 It was the night of October 14, a cold night with 
 a drizzling rain. At about eight o'clock the bom- 
 barding cannon ceased their roar, and then from 
 one of the batteries fiery rockets shot up in the 
 darkness. It was the signal, and the two storming- 
 parties were off. 
 
 The Americans went forward impetuously under 
 a heavy fire from the enemy's works, but without 
 firing a shot themselves ; they scaled the parapet of 
 the redoubt, and carried everything before them at 
 the point of the bayonet. The whole was the work 
 of but a few minutes. And then the proud Ameri- 
 can general Lafayette, perceiving that the French 
 were still fighting, had the pleasure of sending one 
 of his aides to the Baron de Viomenil with some- 
 what mocking compliments and an offer of assist- 
 ance. However, in a few minutes more, the 
 French, who had met with the stronger resistance, as 
 gallantly carried their redoubt. 
 
 All this time, in an exposed embrasure of one of 
 the batteries, Washington had been watching the 
 attack. It might be familiar work for the French 
 veterans; it was new work for his men. Despite 
 bullets whistling about him, he had declined to re- 
 tire. Now, when it was all over, he drew a long 
 breath, and turning to Knox said, "The work is
 
 220 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 done, and well done!" Then he called for his 
 horse, and rode away in the darkness. 
 
 The situation of Cornwallis was now almost 
 hopeless. Under the fierce bombardment his de- 
 fenses were crumbling about him. He made a 
 gallant sortie on the night of the fifteenth and a 
 desperate attempt to escape by the river on the night 
 of the sixteenth; but both efforts failed. The last 
 hope fled under the heavy fire of the allies on the 
 morning of the seventeenth. About ten o'clock 
 two scarlet figures appeared upon the British para- 
 pet; one was vigorously beating a drum, although 
 scores of drums could not have been heard in the 
 din of the bombardment, and the other was waving 
 a white flag. The allies could see the flag, if they 
 could not hear the drum, and the cannonading 
 ceased. The flag-bearer came forward, was met 
 by an American officer, and after being blindfolded 
 was conducted to the rear of the allied lines. So 
 began negotiations for the capitulation of the 
 British army, and in two days they were completed 
 ready for the formal ceremony of surrender. 
 
 It is the afternoon of October 19, a bright sunny 
 afternoon. There seems a strange, peaceful quiet 
 about little Yorktown, after the long din and up- 
 roar of bombardment. In an open space some 
 distance from the village, the entire allied army is 
 drawn up in a double column stretching away a 
 mile long; the Americans on one side, the French
 
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 YORKTOWN 221 
 
 on the other. One brilliant-hued line, one somber 
 one, but both joyously expectant. At the head of 
 the array, and nobly mounted, are Washington and 
 Rochambeau with some of their generals; Wash- 
 ington magnificent upon his famous big war-horse, 
 Nelson. Two o'clock. Out from the broken ram- 
 parts of Yorktown comes a marching column of 
 scarlet, the long-dreaded army of Cornwallis on 
 its way to captivity. 
 
 And that way Washington has purposely made 
 hard in memory of the humiliating terms that the 
 enemy forced upon the Americans when Lincoln 
 surrendered at Charleston. Now the British, de- 
 nied the display of their colors and the music they 
 would have marched to, come on with their battle- 
 flags cased, and their bands playing the significant 
 air, "The World Turned Upside Down." In the 
 allied lines how expectant eyes are waiting for a 
 view of the famous Cornwallis! But they are not 
 to be gratified. As the scarlet column draws near, 
 it is seen that a subordinate officer, who proves to 
 be General O'Hara, is riding in command. 
 
 He approaches the commander-in-chief and 
 apologizes for the non-appearance of Cornwallis on 
 the ground of illness. Washington listens with 
 dignified courtesy, but refers him to Lincoln as the 
 officer who will receive the sword of Cornwallis. 
 The glittering token of submission is placed in the 
 hand of Lincoln who at once returns it to the
 
 222 SWORD .OF LIBERTY 
 
 British general. Now the surrendered forces 
 march down the long lane between the two lines of 
 the allied armies, to a field just beyond. There 
 they ground their arms (some with such angry 
 force as to break them) and then returning in the 
 same way, pass under guard as prisoners of war. 
 
 The days following the great victory were filled 
 with rejoicing among the allied forces at York- . 
 town; rejoicing that spread as fast as the good 
 news could travel, till it rang bells and lighted bon- 
 fires all up and down the land. But Washington 
 did not permit his joy over one victory to make him 
 lose sight of the possibility of another. 
 
 Already he was looking on farther south. And 
 the prospect was alluring. Good reports had been 
 coming from Greene. Fighting where he could, 
 running where he had to, usually getting the worst 
 of the battle but the best of its results, he had 
 steadily out-generaled the British, manceuvering 
 them out of one post after another, until by this 
 time in the whole South they held but three towns, 
 Wilmington, Charleston, and Savannah. Now 
 with the aid of De Grasse's fleet, Washington pro- 
 posed an attack upon Charleston or upon Wilming- 
 ton. But the French admiral felt that his duties in 
 the West Indies precluded his remaining longer in 
 American waters ; and so, as the project was hope- 
 less without the fleet, it had to be abandoned. 
 
 That meant that the campaign of 1781 was over.
 
 YORKTOWN 223 
 
 De Grasse sailed away for the Indies ; the American 
 forces were at once started back for the North ; and 
 it was arranged that the French army should remain 
 for the winter in Virginia. The thoughts of La- 
 fayette turned again toward France. Two years 
 had passed since he last saw home and family; and, 
 besides, for the next few months he could do more 
 for the cause in France than in America. 
 
 Then came the separation of the commander-in- 
 chief and his "young soldier," who was to go to 
 Boston to take ship. Only a short separation, they 
 thought; soon spring and the next campaign would 
 bring Lafayette back. They did not appreciate the 
 heavy blow they had dealt to England ; that the war 
 was over, and that their days of campaigning to- 
 gether ended there at Yorktown.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 PEACE BETWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA 
 
 FRANCE, back to which Lafayette was sailing, 
 at the opening of the year 1782 was some two 
 years nearer her own horrible cataclysm than when 
 he last left her shores. And still not a sign. Let 
 appearances tell the story, and all was well with 
 France. Even the tottering throne itself seemed 
 never more stable. Yorktown had fixed the popu- 
 larity of the king, and the recent birth of an heir 
 to the crown seemed to have won all hearts to the 
 queen. 
 
 Now, while Lafayette was on the sea, his country- 
 men were in a sort of joyous interval between two 
 glorious festivities. Just behind, the jubilation 
 over Yorktown ; just ahead, a splendid fete in honor 
 of the baby dauphin. On January 20, in prepara- 
 tion for this event the king and the queen made a 
 "voyage," as they would say, from Versailles along 
 the road toward Paris, to the king's chateau, La 
 Muette, in Passy, from which they were to take 
 part in the celebration at the capital. 
 
 That gave Benjamin Franklin royal neighbors, 
 for La Muette was next door to the Hotel de Valen- 
 
 224
 
 ENGLAND AND AMERICA 225 
 
 tinois. Of course changes had come to the Doctor. 
 The big body was more bent, the face more lined, 
 and he got about with more difficulty. Indeed, the 
 old gentleman thought himself quite senile, and had 
 urged Congress to accept his resignation; but Con- 
 gress very wisely had refused, and some of his 
 best work lay yet before him. 
 
 A much greater change was noticeable in the 
 Doctor's grandson Temple. He seemed trying to 
 put on as many years as his grandfather would like 
 to take off. He took snuff ostentatiously from a 
 box ornamented with a miniature of Lafayette. 
 Perhaps his rather exaggerated sense of importance 
 arose from a new honor. On days when Franklin 
 could not get about, this boy even represented him 
 at court. 
 
 The fete of January 21, 1782, was a triumphant 
 occasion for the French monarchy. Everywhere 
 the king and the queen were received with acclama- 
 tions. If strangely mingling with these was a low, 
 ominous undertone, the police were there to attend 
 to that, and what the world heard were the joyous 
 cries, "Vive le Roi!" "Vive la Reine!" "Vive Mon- 
 seigneur le Dauphin!" 
 
 That night all Paris was illuminated, but the 
 scene of the royal fete was the Hotel de Ville. 
 There king and queen and court made a brilliant 
 assemblage. In the midst of the festivities word 
 came from somewhere, and spread quickly on the
 
 226 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 breath of the throng, that Lafayette had returned. 
 There was great excitement. In the heart of a 
 little brown-eyed marquise there was tumult. To 
 her the queen showed favor, and happy Adrienne 
 de Lafayette was carried off in the royal coach 
 to meet her hero husband. Marie Antoinette left 
 her at the entrance of the Hotel de Noailles, where 
 she had been living during Lafayette's absence in 
 America. It is told that the excited Adrienne 
 tripped upon her ceremonious gown as she hastened 
 up the steps between waiting lackeys; but the door 
 flew open, and the strong arms of a young American 
 major-general caught her up and carried her into 
 the house, much to the delight of a Parisian street 
 throng. 
 
 But Lafayette could not spend much of the en- 
 suing days in home life. All Paris claimed him. 
 There was endless celebration in his honor, and his 
 appearance in the streets meant joyous commotion. 
 Even from the throne came many marks of favor; 
 and he was soon made a field-marshal. With the 
 coming of that spring of 1782, Lafayette was pre- 
 paring for his return to America ; but as there were 
 still no indications of an active campaign there, 
 Franklin prevailed upon him to remain a while 
 longer in France; and soon they both learned that 
 campaigning in America was over. 
 
 One April day a carriage rolled into the court- 
 yard of the Hotel de Valentinois; a stranger
 
 ENGLAND AND AMERICA 227 
 
 alighted, a benevolent-looking old gentleman, who 
 was soon ushered into the presence of Franklin. 
 He proved to be Mr. Richard Oswald of London; 
 and he bore credentials showing him authorized to 
 speak, at least tentatively, for the British Govern- 
 ment upon the subject of peace. No subject could 
 be more agreeable to Franklin ; and under an act of 
 Congress he was now one of five commissioners ap- 
 pointed to negotiate peace when the time should ar- 
 rive. His four associates were John Adams, John 
 Jay, Thomas Jefferson, and Henry Laurens, no one 
 of them now in France. So, in the quiet talk of 
 two old gentlemen there at Passy that April day, 
 began the negotiations that were to end in the recog- 
 nized independence of the United States. 
 
 Other talks followed, and other commissioners 
 came over from London to negotiate with France 
 and Spain. After a while Franklin's associates, 
 except Jefferson, arrived; and the boy Temple was 
 made secretary of the American Peace Commission. 
 
 The peace negotiations dragged, and the allies be- 
 came suspicious of Britain's sincerity. To bring 
 affairs to a conclusion, France and Spain determined 
 to send a powerful combined expedition, under 
 D'Estaing, to attack the English first in the West 
 Indies and then in America. Lafayette was ap- 
 pointed chief of staff of the combined armies, and 
 went to Spain, as the expedition was to sail from 
 Cadiz. Again the marquise was left with her
 
 228 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 parents, but also with a little addition to her own 
 family, called in honor of both France and 
 America, Marie Antoinette Virginie. Lafayette's 
 absence this time proved not for long. The 
 English were sincere enough, and by January 20, 
 1783, all the preliminaries of peace were settled and 
 signed. 
 
 When the joyful news reached Cadiz, it put an 
 .end to the Franco-Spanish expedition which was 
 just about to sail. Lafayette's first thought was of 
 America. He succeeded in having one of the ves- 
 sels of the fleet despatched across the Atlantic, and 
 in the message it bore from him the United States 
 first learned that the struggle for liberty was won. 
 Some months later, on September 3, 1783, the final 
 definitive treaty was signed, and the United States 
 took its place among the independent countries of 
 the world. 
 
 So Lafayette, his days of fighting for liberty in 
 America at an end, returned from Spain to France. 
 By the spring of 1784 he was making plans for a 
 visit to America. Washington could not come to 
 him; he would go to Washington. Gaily he wrote 
 of seeing his old commander and Lady Wash- 
 ington : "Tell her that I hope soon to thank her for 
 a dish of tea at Mount Vernon. Yes, my dear 
 General, before the month of June is over, you will 
 see a vessel coming up the Potomac, and out of that
 
 ENGLAND AND AMERICA 229 
 
 vessel will your friend jump with a panting heart 
 and all the feelings of perfect happiness." 
 
 But it was August by the time Lady Washington 
 gave the "French boy" that dish of tea at Mount 
 Vernon. There were two weeks of happy reunion, 
 then a tour of the country by Lafayette, in which 
 he was most joyously welcomed everywhere, and 
 finally a few last days at Mount Vernon. When 
 the time for leaving came, Washington accompanied 
 him some distance in his carriage. Then the two 
 friends separated, not to meet again. What that 
 parting meant to them, even though they could not 
 know it was final, they have told us themselves. 
 From his ship Lafayette wrote : 
 
 Adieu, adieu, my dear General. It is with inex- 
 pressible pain that I feel I am going to be separated 
 from you by the Atlantic. Everything that admiration, 
 respect, gratitude, friendship, and filial love can inspire 
 is combined in my affectionate heart to devote me most 
 tenderly to you. In your friendship I feel a delight which 
 words cannot express. Adieu, my dear General. 
 
 And then, the most touching words of affection 
 Washington ever wrote to any man : 
 
 In the moment of our separation, upon the road as I 
 traveled, and every hour since, I have felt all that love, 
 respect and attachment for you, with which length of 
 years, close communion, and your merits have inspired 
 me. I often asked myself, as our carriages separated, 
 whether that was the last sight I ever should have of 
 you. And though I wished to say no, my fears answered 
 yes. ... It is unnecessary, I persuade myself, to re- 
 peat to you, my dear Marquis, the sincerity of my re- 
 gard and friendship; nor have I words which could ex-
 
 230 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 press my affection for you, were I to attempt it. My 
 fervent prayers are offered for your safe and pleasant 
 passage, happy meeting with Madame Lafayette and fam- 
 ily, and the completion of every wish of your heart. 
 
 It was toward the last of January, 1785, that the 
 marquis landed again in France. This time, too, 
 he arrived in season to take part in the public re- 
 joicing over a royal baby, another boy, destined 
 by the death of his older brother to become the 
 Dauphin of France, but destined also to be "the 
 king who never reigned." Lafayette now found 
 many prominent Americans in Paris, and the pa- 
 latial Hotel de Lafayette, in the Rue de Bourbon, 
 became more than ever a rendezvous for them. One 
 of the most noted figures was a very tall, slender, 
 nervously athletic man, about forty years old, with 
 red hair, a distinguished appearance, plenty of 
 freckles, and the mind that produced the Declara- 
 tion of Independence. At that time, this dis- 
 tinguished American was a man of considerable 
 elegance in manner and dress. 
 
 What the towering Thomas Jefferson was in 
 France for was to act with Franklin and Adams in 
 negotiating commercial treaties, but he was soon 
 to take still more important place. For in May 
 came word from Congress at last releasing the 
 weary Franklin from his post as Minister Pleni- 
 potentiary to the Court of Versailles, and appointing 
 Jefferson in his stead. And now praise of the old 
 philosopher reached its zenith in a single remark.
 
 ENGLAND AND AMERICA 231 
 
 "You replace Doctor Franklin, I hear," said Ver- 
 gennes to Jefferson. "I succeed him," was the 
 reply; "no one can replace him." 
 
 The release came none too soon for Franklin. 
 He had failed greatly in the past two years. 
 Broken and suffering, he wrote to his family in 
 Philadelphia of his preparations to return to 
 America : "I have continued to work till late in the 
 day; 'tis time I should go home and go to bed." 
 In France there was nation-wide regret at his going, 
 and farewell marks of attention and affection were 
 showered upon him to his last moment on French 
 soil. 
 
 Upon the afternoon of July 12, 1785, all was 
 ready in the courtyard of the Hotel de Valentinois 
 for Franklin's departure. As he could not ride in 
 the carriage with his grandsons, being no longer 
 able to endure the motion, a kind of litter or sedan, 
 belonging to the queen, had been placed at his ser- 
 vice. The old man's many good-bys had been said, 
 including those to Lafayette, who was now visiting 
 in Germany. At four o'clock the travelers set out 
 upon their journey to the coast and their ship, fol- 
 lowed in carriages by friends who could not yet 
 part with Franklin. Jefferson, who had come out 
 to Passy, watched them go and said, "It seemed as 
 though the village had lost its patriarch." 
 
 More than that. France had lost a Mecca. 
 Courtier, savant, traveler, peasant, all had worn a
 
 232 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 path to the door of Benjamin Franklin. And 
 the United States had lost its first and greatest min- 
 ister plenipotentiary. For some eight years the old 
 Doctor had served his country, formally as minister 
 to France, virtually as ambassador to Europe, and 
 with a uniform success that no other American could 
 have attained. As he said, he had worked "till 
 late," and now in the fullness of years and of 
 honors, but broken and suffering, he was going 
 home. The swaying litter, traveling slowly, dis- 
 appeared down the highway in its journey to the 
 coast.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A CRUMBLING THRONE 
 
 AMERICA was fortunate in the man who 
 watched the old philosopher go, the man who 
 "succeeded" Benjamin Franklin. Jefferson was 
 now in his prime ; his exceptionally well-stored mind 
 devoted to his country and to the cause of liberty. 
 He followed Franklin's example in locating the 
 American Embassy away from the heart of Paris, 
 toward Versailles but not so far out as Passy. He 
 lived virtually on the outskirts of the capital, on 
 the Rue Neuve de Berri, near the Champs-filysees. 
 Again a most creditable establishment to do honor 
 to America, a stately hotel with its many dependent 
 buildings, its large court, and its garden. He had 
 saddle- and driving-horses, chariot and cabriolet. 
 He entertained handsomely and with lavish hos- 
 pitality. There was a retinue of ten or twelve 
 servants, besides the all-important maitre d'hotel, 
 Petit, so devoted to his American master. Like 
 Franklin, the new minister was a lover of France; 
 and he was now keenly and anxiously to watch her 
 erratic steps toward liberty. 
 
 In the middle of this year 1785, all the social, 
 233
 
 234 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 political, and economic conditions of France were 
 ripe for tremendous and awful upheaval. Jeffer- 
 son did not see this ; nobody saw it. The conditions 
 themselves were fairly perceived; but the terrible 
 latent explosiveness of them nobody suspected. 
 
 The great nation was going on apparently much 
 as it had done, time out of mind. At the head of 
 it a king who, despite some semi-constitutional re- 
 straints, was virtually an absolute monarch. Under 
 him, a people divided into three classes : the clergy, 
 called the First Estate; the nobility, called the 
 Second Estate; and the common people, called the 
 Third Estate. Now, as for ages past, the First 
 Estate and the Second Estate, the clergy and the 
 nobility, formed a privileged group. They pos- 
 sessed many powers and enjoyed many advantages 
 at the expense of the Third Estate or the common 
 people. This was so to a degree that cruelly 
 wronged and burdened this lowest class. That is 
 to say, most of it. For this Third Estate, this vast 
 body of the plain people, was itself composed of 
 three groups, varying widely in their rights and op- 
 portunities. At the top was the well-to-do group, 
 the bourgeoisie, chiefly traders and professional 
 men; while far below were the other two groups, 
 the artisans and the peasants. The bourgeoisie 
 were not particularly oppressed. As a rule they 
 were free from some forms of taxation, and they 
 were the great office-holding class. Probably their
 
 A CRUMBLING THRONE 235 
 
 main grievance was more social than political; for, 
 however rich, however cultured they might be, 
 they were yet looked down upon by the nobility as 
 commoners. In turn, they looked down in con- 
 tempt upon the artisans and the peasants. It was 
 these artisans and these peasants, the great bulk of 
 the nation, that were the down-trodden people. 
 
 But antiquated and barbarous as was this political 
 and social system, it was so grounded in custom as 
 to seem to defy all the elements of change now long 
 abroad in the land. Of course it could not forever 
 do that, and acute observers looked forward to a 
 gradual weakening of kingly power and of class 
 privilege, resulting in a more free and righteous 
 government. Everything seemed pointing toward 
 that solution. It was not only the common people, 
 but also the higher classes and the king who were 
 awakening to the need of reform; and in one way 
 and another the king was trying to better things. 
 So, indeed, the matter might have worked out, and 
 liberty have blossomed naturally and peacefully had 
 it not been for a money trouble. 
 
 Louis XVI had inherited a vast debt from the 
 preceding reign ; also a costly court, to which he had 
 added an extravagant queen; then had come the 
 enormous expense of participation in the American 
 war. The result was the unpleasant truth that by 
 this time France was on the eve of bankruptcy. 
 Skilful ministerial turnings and twistings concealed
 
 236 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 this fact for a year or so longer ; but by the end of 
 1786 the Government could scarcely go further 
 without such forms and degrees of taxation as even 
 an autocrat found it impolitic to attempt. The only 
 course left open to Louis was virtually an appeal 
 to the country by laying the state of the crown 
 before the people. 
 
 There were two old and disused ways of doing 
 this : one way was for the king himself to name and 
 summon prominent subjects to constitute what was 
 known as the Assembly of Notables; the other way 
 was for the king to summon representatives to be 
 elected by the people, and constituting what was 
 called the States-General. 
 
 Louis hesitated. There had been no resort by a 
 king of France to either the Assembly of Notables 
 or the States-General in almost two centuries, not 
 since the autocratic power of the crown had become 
 established. The summoning of either was fraught 
 with danger to royal prerogative. But it must be 
 one or the other. And the troubled Louis chose 
 the non-elective body as the less dangerous, and is- 
 sued his call for the Assembly of Notables. 
 
 In February, 1787, the Notables, of whom La- 
 fayette was one, convened at Versailles, but without 
 benefit to the king. They insisted that the startling 
 deficit was due to flagrant extravagance of the court 
 and to waste and fraud in the ministry. Feeling 
 ran high. Lafayette caused much of it by his
 
 A CRUMBLING THRONE 237 
 
 aggressive demand for reforms instead of taxation. 
 His friends were anxious for him, fearing that any 
 moment he might be seized and condemned to the 
 Bastille. One day in the midst of the strain he 
 concluded a speech by declaring the need of a 
 national representative body. 
 
 "What, Monsieur!" exclaimed the Comte d'Ar- 
 tois, brother to the king, "do you demand the con- 
 vocation of the States-General?" 
 
 "Yes, Monseigneur," replied Lafayette, "and 
 even more than that !" 
 
 Nobody ventured to join Lafayette in such a 
 proposal, and nothing came of it then. The As- 
 sembly of Notables, steadily declining to help the 
 Government out of its financial troubles, was soon 
 politely dissolved. Now the king, seeking to pre- 
 serve his prerogatives and pressed by his financial 
 needs, resorted to arbitrary measures that spread 
 almost revolutionary agitation among the people. 
 The situation in Paris became alarming. Many of 
 the public places of meeting were closed by the 
 Government, and large bodies of soldiers were 
 paraded in the streets. Still the rebellious spirit 
 grew, and soon the demand of Lafayette was taken 
 up by all France. At length the king was forced 
 to accede and in August, 1788, he issued a decree 
 convoking the States-General for May i, 1789. 
 
 That step was the beginning of the end. All the 
 land felt the weakening in the despotic grip of the
 
 238 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 king, the sudden give of the leash. Indeed, if one 
 must attempt the impossible and try to fix upon a 
 particular time as the real beginning of the French 
 Revolution, one might as well stick the pin in right 
 here as anywhere else. 
 
 It was decreed by the king that the States- 
 General now to assemble should consist of one 
 thousand members, one half to be chosen by the 
 Third Estate, and the other half by the two higher 
 orders sharing equally. After all manner of con- 
 fusion, in this nation that knew nothing of elections, 
 the delegates somehow got chosen. Those from the 
 First Estate were truly representative clergy; those 
 from the Second Estate equally representative 
 nobles, Lafayette among them; but those from the 
 Third Estate were not fairly representative com- 
 moners, for they were virtually all from one 
 group, the bourgeoisie, scarcely a man from the 
 millions of artisans and peasants. 
 
 With the opening of May, the delegates gathered 
 at Versailles, something over one thousand of 
 them, as the number had been increased after the 
 first call. All the king's city was agog. Royal 
 trumpeters and heralds-at-arms in velvet and gold 
 reined their white horses at the street corners pro- 
 claiming the approaching opening of the States- 
 General. 
 
 The bright sun that rose on Monday, May 4, 
 found Versailles awake and waiting. Crowds of
 
 A CRUMBLING THRONE 239 
 
 people thronged the streets. For upon this day 
 was to occur the magnificent prelude to the States- 
 General, the ceremonial procession of king and 
 queen and court and delegates to the church of St. 
 Louis, "to entreat the enlightenment of the Holy 
 Ghost" for the great assembly. 
 
 Hours passed and the impatient crowd grew till 
 the very housetops were alive. Mounted pages 
 rushed recklessly through the throng in the name of 
 the Grand Master of Ceremonies. From the royal 
 parish church of Notre Dame, lying northward of 
 the king's palace, to the quaint old church of St. 
 Louis, lying to the southward, stretched two un- 
 broken showy lines of French and Swiss guards. 
 All along on both sides of this line of march were 
 hung walls of splendid tapestries. Overlooking 
 windows and balconies were gay with spectators. 
 And still those eager people did not know the full 
 significance of the thing they were to see, one of 
 the most famous pageants in history, and the last 
 of its kind. Above all, they did not dream that the 
 coming spectacle, full of kingly pomp and power, 
 was to be in reality but a magnificent funeral march 
 for the doomed last rulers of the monarchy of 
 France. 
 
 Stand in the Place d'Armes, if perchance you yet 
 may, as trumpets sound from the direction of old 
 Notre Dame. Soon the head of the procession 
 conies into view from the Rue de Dauphin. A
 
 240 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 most modest beginning, surely; just a few local 
 priests, followed by the first group of the marching 
 delegates, each bearing (as will every one following 
 them) a lighted taper. These delegates are in plain 
 plebeian black, at the king's command. But to them, 
 in all their somberness, that color-loving crowd 
 thrills in wildest ecstasy. The delegates of the 
 Third Estate! The representatives of the common 
 people! The heralds of liberty! Over and over 
 rings, out, "Vive le tiers etat!" From housetop to 
 gutter, "Vive le tiers etat!" 
 
 If only that cry were springing from a sane love 
 of liberty! But already madness is in it. This is 
 not a typical French throng; it is largely a Paris 
 crowd, a half -starved, half -crazed crowd; the sort 
 of crowd that is going to put horror into the French 
 Revolution, and almost ready now for the days of 
 the Red Terror. 
 
 Steadily the black host of the Third Estate 
 marches on through wildest acclamations. Sud- 
 denly the somber lines end and, just as suddenly, 
 the acclamations. Though music, brightness, ele- 
 gance (all dear to the spectacle-loving French heart) 
 now sweep into the scene, they are received in omi- 
 nous silence. Nobility is passing, the proud delegates 
 of the Second Estate. There is the blare of herald- 
 ing trumpets, the gleam of color, the glitter of gems, 
 the waving of plumes; but as for the onlookers 
 silence. Does nothing of chill foreboding at this
 
 A CRUMBLING THRONE 241 
 
 moment strike through the ranks of these doomed 
 nobility of France, walking even now in the shadow 
 of the guillotine? 
 
 The solemn chanting of priests, and then, in long 
 trailing robes, the delegates of the First Estate. 
 Those high in the church are resplendent in their 
 magnificent vestments. With incense rising on the 
 sunny air, a silken canopy approaches. Beneath it 
 is borne the Sacred Host in the hands of the Arch- 
 bishop of Paris. So in silence pass the clergy, too. 
 
 Now come the first renewed greetings of the 
 crowd faint enough greetings to the approaching 
 king. Attended by his brilliant court he comes, a 
 dazzling figure all in gleaming, shimmering cloth- 
 of-gold, sparkling with gems, his plumed hat caught 
 up with the flashing royal diamond, the "Regent." 
 The last of the monarchs of the ancien regime, for 
 the last time in the fulness of his splendor. And 
 still but faintly comes the cry, "V'we le roil" 
 
 A little back of the king, and to the left, walks 
 the queen at the head of the princesses and the 
 court ladies. Far more regal than the king, she 
 scarcely needs her splendor of dress to play her 
 royal part. Never has she looked more beautiful 
 or more majestic. But this day beauty and majesty 
 count for little. If the king has received scant 
 greeting, Marie Antoinette is receiving none. What 
 would not her proud heart give for a single cry, 
 "Vive la reinel" But it does not come. Instead
 
 242 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 are insolent, angry looks. Without glancing aside 
 she can sense the presence of those hawk-like women 
 of the Paris slums ; those savagely miserable women 
 who face famine every day and fight in the bread 
 lines. How they press toward her with their lean 
 faces, their cruel eyes, as though only the guards 
 kept them from clutching that thing of gold and 
 beauty ! 
 
 High-headed, disdainful, Marie Antoinette moves 
 on. But, pathetically enough, that look will soften 
 in a moment. As the procession draws its magnifi- 
 cent lines across the great sunny Place d'Armes, 
 the queen's eyes are raised to a balcony of the Petite 
 ficurie. There, watched over by ladies in waiting, 
 and gently raised upon soft cushions, is a wan, 
 twisted, pain-racked little child, her child, the 
 Dauphin of France. His beautiful dying eyes 
 search eagerly for his mother, and light up at her 
 regal coming. And she, knowing he is doomed, 
 looks up with heartbreak in her smile, and passes on. 
 
 Following the queen is an imposing array of 
 princes and princesses, nobles and ladies; and in 
 their bewildering gorgeousness the procession comes 
 to an end. Comes to an end in ominous silence. 
 What was intended for an overaweing demonstra- 
 tion of royal pomp has failed. Everybody knows 
 that the crowd has won. At the church of St. 
 Louis let king and queen and court ask help not only
 
 A CRUMBLING THRONE 243 
 
 for the States-General, but for themselves: they 
 will need it. 
 
 On the next day was held, in the immense, im- 
 posing hall of the royal Hotel des Menus Plaisirs, 
 the opening session of the States-General. To be 
 sure, the affair did not look like that; judging from 
 looks, it was some elaborate setting for grand opera. 
 But then the king had to be on a throne, and the 
 queen and the court ladies all had to appear in their 
 new gowns created by Madame filoff especially for 
 the occasion. Besides, to queen and court, what 
 was it all but a grand function for properly impres- 
 sing delegates who might have arrived with more 
 enthusiasm for "liberty" and "equality" than was 
 agreeable to noblesse and to royalty? Even Louis, 
 influenced by queen and court, wholly failed to ap- 
 preciate or to meet the real, the epochal situation. 
 
 A people stirred to the depths, divided against 
 itself and against its king, groping blindly but des- 
 perately from feudalism to freedom, had sent these 
 representatives now gathered before the throne. 
 And in sending them, that people had leaped far 
 beyond what was in Louis's mind when he issued 
 the call. These representatives, or most of them, 
 were come to create a new France. True, they had 
 but the most vague and conflicting notions as to 
 what kind of a France they were going to make. 
 But "liberty" and "equality" were going to cut quite
 
 244 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 a figure in it, despite noblesse, and royalty, and even 
 Madame filoff. 
 
 And Louis, wholly ignoring the momentous char- 
 acter of the occasion, read a pretty speech to the 
 delegates, and received them very much as a body 
 come just to help him out of his financial troubles. 
 His ministers followed in much the same vein, 
 and thereupon the long-heralded States-General 
 was left to its own devices.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 
 
 ON May 6 the Assembly convened for business. 
 But not successfully. In the great hall were 
 now gathered the six hundred and some delegates 
 of the Third Estate. They found themselves alone. 
 The seats for the delegates of the other two estates 
 were empty. It was a situation dramatic and 
 ominous but not wholly unexpected. Everybody 
 surmised, and soon knew, that the other two estates 
 were meeting by themselves in other rooms in the 
 building. And everybody knew why. 
 
 It was a grand jockeying for advantage at the 
 starting-point; and much of the story of liberty for 
 France hung upon the outcome. In a nutshell, 
 if the delegates should all sit together and vote as 
 individuals, a great advantage would lie with the 
 unprivileged class, as its representatives outnum- 
 bered those of the two privileged classes taken to- 
 gether; on the other hand, if the delegates should 
 separate, and sit and vote by estates, the advantage 
 would be with the two privileged classes, as they 
 could in their common interest vote two estates 
 against one. 
 
 245
 
 246 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 The battle was on, the battle of the classes; and 
 nothing could be done until that was fought out. 
 So fierce was this contest that an event which in 
 normal times would have stirred all France passed 
 almost unnoticed, the death of the dauphin. Hardly 
 had the suffering child breathed his last when mem- 
 bers of the Assembly, about their contentious af- 
 fairs, broke in upon the king. Grief -stricken, he 
 exclaimed, "There are then no fathers in the Tiers 
 tatf" The little boy who now became dauphin 
 was as sturdy as his brother had been frail, but the 
 coming Revolution was to make him the greater 
 sufferer of the two. 
 
 The days went on with the States-General still 
 stubbornly divided. Who knows how much France 
 later paid in blood for that time of tension and 
 mounting class hatred? Though accomplishing 
 nothing, the delegates of the Third Estate were find- 
 ing themselves. The leader of all was coming to 
 the front. It was easy to pick him out, that 
 mountain of a man, that awful figure, that creature 
 of ugliness with the great head, the seamed and 
 carbuncled face, the fiery energy of a volcano, and 
 the voice of thunder. That was Mirabeau. A man 
 brilliant with ability and eloquence ; foul with base- 
 ness and disease; often the man who best knew 
 what to do for France, and who sometimes did it. 
 He was not a commoner but a noble rejected by
 
 THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 247 
 
 his own class, who had secured election as a delegate 
 of the Third Estate. 
 
 In the meantime, the delegates of the two privi- 
 leged estates were sitting in their separate rooms, 
 making no headway; indeed, becoming divided 
 amongst themselves. For so wide-spread were 
 liberal views that many of the nobles and of the 
 clergy were in sympathy with the common people, 
 and ready to unite with their delegates waiting in 
 the great hall. A leader among these was Lafa- 
 yette. But they were hampered by their instructions 
 as delegates of the noblesse, and were a hopeless 
 minority. 
 
 America, her own liberty won, was sympathetic- 
 ally watching this troubled attempt of France to 
 attain hers, watching through the deep-set hazel 
 eyes of Thomas Jefferson, who every day attended 
 these proceedings. The tall slender figure of the 
 United States Minister became very familiar to 
 these representatives of France. Like a master in 
 the school of liberty he seemed, and really was to 
 many of them, this father of the American Declara- 
 tion of Independence. 
 
 At length one day there came a break in the dead- 
 lock of the Assembly. There appeared in the great 
 hall of the commoners three members of the clergy 
 come to sit with the Third Estate, just three ob- 
 scure little country priests; but the enthusiasm of 
 their reception must have made them feel like arch-
 
 248 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 bishops. A few others followed. And now came 
 surprising proceedings. On June 17 the slowly 
 swelling company of commoners and curates vir- 
 tually declared itself to be the entire States-General. 
 It ignored the sittings of the other two bodies, and 
 regarded their members as simply absent from their 
 proper places in the great hall. To fix and seal this 
 daring step, these commoners and curates adopted a 
 new name expressive of their being the real repre- 
 sentative body of the nation; and boldly they called 
 upon the delegates of the clergy and of the nobility 
 to come and take their places in "The National 
 Assembly." 
 
 It was high time for the king and the court, the 
 clergy and the nobility, to see that France was get- 
 ting away from them. It was time for the accept- 
 ance of the inevitable. Instead came another of 
 those now empty displays of royal authority. 
 
 On the dull drizzling morning of June 20, the 
 velvet and gold heralds were again in the streets of 
 Versailles, proclaiming a royal session to be held 
 two or three days later, and forbidding further 
 meetings of the delegates in the meantime. How 
 pitifully hollow it all rang! Almost with the 
 heralds' cry in their ears, plain black -coated figures 
 came marching in the rain toward the Hotel des 
 Menus Plaisirs, the National Assembly proceed- 
 ing to hold its meetings as usual ! 
 
 Then came the first display of force. At the
 
 THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 249 
 
 door, National Assembly met King's Guard. There 
 was nothing for umbrellas to do but to retire before 
 bayonets. Amid the jeers of courtiers from over- 
 looking windows the commoners with their few 
 clerical allies moved off down the muddy street. 
 Some one had thought of the old covered tennis- 
 court near by, and now indignantly bobbing um- 
 brellas were making for that. Thronging along 
 went an applauding crowd that almost carried the 
 delegates into the great, barn-like building. There, 
 despite the king, was the National Assembly in ses- 
 sion, in world-famous session. For this .was the 
 occasion of the celebrated Tennis-Court Oath. 
 
 The scene was a little theatrical, perhaps, but 
 desperately earnest, the wild surging of delegates 
 about their president, the babel of cries against per- 
 mitting the Assembly to be dissolved by the king, 
 the frenzied glances up to heaven, the trembling 
 lifted right hands that registered the historic oath 
 of the delegates never to separate until they had 
 created a new government for France. And then 
 the crowd again, howling and shrieking its appro- 
 bation. Within the next two days the National 
 Assembly was joined, provisionally at least, by 
 about one hundred and fifty more clericals and by 
 two nobles. 
 
 Then, on June 23, came the much-heralded royal 
 session, one of the last attempts of the Bourbon 
 monarchy to stay the current that was undermining
 
 250 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 it. A magnificent high-handed venture; a pitiful, 
 humiliating failure. Troops, overaweing troops, 
 everywhere; heralds and trumpeters; great royal 
 coach with court attendants; a being of gold who 
 passed from coach to throne ; and, in order to show 
 them their proper place, the commoners kept out in 
 the rain until everybody else had entered the great 
 hall. The good, weak king's imperious, empty 
 words rejecting the National Assembly, and com- 
 manding the delegates to disperse immediately and 
 to reassemble by estates in their three separate 
 meeting-places next day. 
 
 With such injunction the king departed. Most 
 of the clergy and of the nobility, feeling that their 
 contest with the commons was now won, gave joyful 
 obedience and followed. Back in the dim space 
 behind the columns, where the commons sat, the 
 black-coated figures showed uneasy movement and 
 looked uncertainly at one another. One of the in- 
 tense moments in history, one of the critical ones. 
 To go meant the end of the National Assembly and 
 all that it stood for; to stay, after the king's com- 
 mand to disperse, meant bald, unthinkable defiance 
 of royal authority. Moments passed. Rank re- 
 bellion lay in just sitting there. Now and again a 
 dark figure half rose, wavered, and slipped away 
 along the wall. But the main body held uncertain- 
 ly, not seeming to know what to do. 
 
 It was then that the hangings behind the throne
 
 THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 251 
 
 parted, and the master of ceremonies, all in gold 
 and plumes and diamonds, came forward. Armed 
 with his white wand of office, he spoke : "You have 
 heard the command of the king?" That simple in- 
 quiry, with ages of despotic authority behind it, 
 might, save for one man, have taken the last of the 
 courage of the National Assembly. But now, out 
 of the wavering, black-coated company, rose a 
 mountain of strength, the huge figure and mighty 
 voice of Mirabeau: "Go tell your master," he 
 thundered at the gold and the jewels and the white 
 wand, "that we are here at the will of the people, 
 and that we will leave only at the point of the 
 bayonet !" 
 
 The effect of this speech was that an astonished 
 master of ceremonies obsequiously backed his way 
 out of the presence of the delegates, as he was ac- 
 customed to do out of the august presence of the 
 king. So the long-pending, final break had come. 
 The king was openly defied. These delegates, re- 
 formers a few minutes ago, were rebels now. Their 
 lives depended upon the outcome of the struggle 
 thus openly begun between the new-born National 
 Assembly and the age-embattled despotism of the 
 throne of France. 
 
 Within a day or two, still more of the clergy and 
 of the nobility came to the great hall; and soon 
 Louis had to give recognition to the National As- 
 sembly by directing the remainder of the two upper
 
 252 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 estates to also unite with it By June 27 the union 
 of the three orders was complete; the States-General 
 was swallowed up by the now triumphant National 
 Assembly. As the main work before the body was 
 the drafting of a constitution, a new word was soon 
 added to its name, making it the National Con- 
 stituent Assembly. 
 
 It was a strange governmental situation that 
 France now entered upon. The king on his throne 
 just as before, but with an anomalous, self-created 
 body sharing sovereignty with him. The As- 
 sembly of course found itself much divided. There 
 were the three antagonistic estate groups to start 
 with; but, as new principles and interests prevailed, 
 there was soon a considerable regrouping, the 
 faint beginnings of political organizations. Dis- 
 regarding the confusion of lines and names that 
 later developed, there were, as in all such cases, 
 roughly three divisions. At one extreme were the 
 ultra royalists, composed chiefly of bishops and the 
 older nobles, and having at heart the preservation 
 of autocracy and the ancien regime. At the other 
 extreme were the ultra revolutionists, composed 
 chiefly of radical delegates from the Third Estate, 
 and standing (though scarce consciously yet) for 
 the complete overthrow of the monarchy. In the 
 wide space between these extreme parties were the 
 conservatives, composed chiefly of the moderate 
 delegates from the Third Estate and young nobles
 
 THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 253 
 
 imbued with the spirit of reform. These conserva- 
 tives, virtually including many delegates called 
 neutral, constituted a large majority of the As- 
 sembly, and dictated its proceedings. 
 
 For a while the conflict of authority as between 
 king and Assembly was not great ; for the Assembly 
 was too taken up with constitution-making, or what 
 it thought was that, to give much attention to any- 
 thing else. Devoid of practical ideas, but full of 
 sentimentality, knowing nothing of parliamentary 
 law, but all talking at once, the excited, struggling 
 delegates were seeking to make a constitution out of 
 rhetoric, perspiration, and the Rights of Man. 
 
 While the Assembly was thus pleasantly engaged, 
 the queen and the court were persuading the weak 
 king to make another attempt to rid himself of this 
 troublesome body. A new coup d'etat was 
 planned. Rapidly troops were gathered, surround- 
 ing Paris and Versailles, with the idea of closing 
 in and overwhelming the Assembly and its sup- 
 porters. It looked as though all the struggle that 
 had been waged for weeks, all the painful little steps 
 that had been taken toward liberty, were to go for 
 naught; as though the Assembly would be dis- 
 solved, even its conservative members arraigned as 
 rebels, and France set back under autocratic rule. 
 
 And such would have been the case but for one 
 thing, a fierce, frenzied thing now to begin its 
 terrifying part upon the stage, the mob! An
 
 254 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 ominously turbulent spirit had developed in the 
 capital city. And on a hot Sunday, July 12, all 
 holiday Paris out of doors, that spirit was whipped 
 to fury by wild-fire rumors : the king was using the 
 army to crush the Assembly at Versailles ! the popu- 
 lar favorite among the king's ministers had been 
 dismissed and banished! Paris was to be starved 
 into submission! Fuming orators in the Palais 
 Royal gardens harangued the excited people. Some- 
 where a drum was beating the call to arms. Angry 
 crowds echoed the drum, and surged through the 
 city. The French Guards, instead of acting as 
 police, joined the maddened populace. 
 
 Toward dusk that Sunday, America figured oddly 
 in the uproar. A troop of the king's cavalry gal- 
 loped into the city, and halted with drawn sabers in 
 the Place Louis XV. The mob, enraged, armed 
 themselves with stones. Just as a miniature battle 
 was about to begin, a carriage drawn by sleek bay 
 horses came smartly out into the Place Louis XV 
 and straight into the narrow lane between the 
 cavalry and the crowd. Thomas Jefferson in his 
 new chariot drove the length of that narrow lane, 
 cavalry and people staying their hands until the 
 Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States had 
 passed. Then the rain of stones came and the 
 cavalry charged. 
 
 The rioting increased, and by Tuesday, July 14, 
 Paris was hopelessly mob-ridden. Then the rabble
 
 THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 255 
 
 began a wild search for arms. It carried them to 
 the east end of the city where they came howling to 
 a halt before a grim, gray castle-prison. There 
 they were to make history that day. For nearly 
 four hundred years that grim, gray castle-prison 
 had stood there ; and most of those years had been 
 years of infamy. The Bastille! Huge, forbidding 
 fortress of despotism! Monument of cruelty, of 
 torture, of living death! How often had freedom 
 been stifled in its dungeon cells! 
 
 Wait! That was the Bastille of antiquity. In 
 that year 1789, and for years before, this gloomy 
 pile was merely a very respectable state prison. 
 And that mob, often pictured as attacking an in- 
 famous stronghold, was not thinking of infamous 
 strongholds at all, but simply of the arms the 
 Bastille contained. Now the governor of the prison 
 refused to deliver the arms. What was to be done? 
 Apparently nothing could be done. Before the 
 rabble stretched a wide moat, then upreared frown- 
 ing walls a hundred feet high and nine feet thick 
 and bristling with cannon. However, it was ar- 
 ranged that a deputation from the crowd should be 
 admitted to consult with the governor. To this 
 end a drawbridge was let down across the moat. 
 Many others besides the deputation rushed across. 
 They gained only an outer court, and being virtually 
 unarmed, were no menace; but in the excitement of
 
 256 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 the moment the drawbridge was raised, and they 
 were fired upon from the prison. 
 
 The mob gave a roar of rage, and from that 
 moment it was fire and bloodshed. But it was the 
 besiegers' blood that was being shed. Though for 
 hours they kept up a desperate firing with their 
 small weapons, it was quite futile; while even the 
 strangely feeble fire from the prison was deadly. 
 Two of the mob succeeded in gaining a position 
 from which they could hack the chains of a draw- 
 bridge, and at last it fell, crushing some of their fel- 
 lows beneath it. The wild welter went howling 
 over, and the first court was won, though that 
 proved to amount to little. 
 
 Indeed, in all the day's work virtually no head- 
 way was made against the Bastille from without. 
 The fatal blow came from within. By evening 
 the little garrison was thoroughly mutinous, and 
 the governor had lost control. Toward six o'clock 
 the mob saw, across the moat, a bit of paper flutter- 
 ing from a grating in the massive wall. A plank 
 was brought to span the moat, and some daring be- 
 sieger moved perilously out upon it. His out- 
 stretched hand had almost reached the paper, when 
 a shot from one side or the other struck him, and he 
 fell into the moat. Instantly another man was in 
 his place, and this time the paper was grasped and 
 brought to a young officer who was among the 
 leaders of the mob. The garrison was ready to
 
 M a 
 **, >- 
 
 a a. 
 
 si 
 
 w '* 
 g
 
 THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 25? 
 
 surrender, upon being assured of protection from 
 massacre; but the little paper warned the people 
 that there were twenty tons of powder in the 
 magazine, and that if the capitulation was not ac- 
 cepted, there would be an explosion that would blow 
 up the Bastille and all its besiegers. Rashly the 
 young mob leader cried, "We accept, on the faith 
 of an officer; lower your bridge." The drawbridge 
 was lowered, the advance of the tumultuous mass 
 rushed roaring over, and the Bastille had fallen. 
 
 But what about the safety of the garrison "on 
 the faith of an officer" ? The young leader did all 
 he could, but followers such as his do not keep 
 faith ; nor did the garrison their lives. Some were 
 saved, the rest fell before savage slaughter. Their 
 heads were cut off, held aloft on pikes, and borne 
 in ferocious triumph through the city. Horrible, 
 and horribly fitting insignia of that wild, fierce, 
 scarcely human power now entering into the Revo- 
 lution! Those ghastly heads, almost alive in their 
 awful expression of terror, were but the first of 
 many doomed to make gruesome standards above 
 the Paris rabble.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE END OF THE FEUDAL SYSTEM 
 
 MOB power entered the Revolution that fate- 
 ful July 14 of 1789 to stay. Not only to 
 stay; to rule! Before that day the great struggle 
 was waged between the king and the Assembly; 
 after that day the dominating force, greater than 
 Assembly, greater than king, was the mob. Its 
 supremacy over the king was shown at once. All 
 that elaborate military coup d'etat which Louis 
 had planned for suppressing the unruly Assembly 
 and its supporter, Paris, went down with the 
 Bastille. After such a demonstration of the power 
 of the mob, the king stayed his hand, which he now 
 saw was too weak, and bowed before the storm. 
 
 It was a strange scene when, on the day after 
 the fall of the Bastille, the king of France, without 
 pomp or ceremony, with no attendants but his two 
 brothers, entered the hall of the Assembly at Ver- 
 sailles, gave full recognition to that body, announced 
 that he had ordered the immediate withdrawal of 
 his troops, and asked the aid of the delegates in 
 quieting Paris. There was a great demonstration 
 
 258
 
 THE END OF THE FEUDAL SYSTEM 259 
 
 in the Assembly, revolutionists joining with royal- 
 ists in honoring the king; though inwardly rejoic- 
 ing in the victory over him that the mob had won for 
 them. All the delegates circled about their 
 sovereign, making a chain of joined hands, and con- 
 ducted him back to the palace amidst rapturous 
 cries of the people, "Vive le roil" 
 
 Many of the court clique now felt that their in- 
 fluence with the king was over, that the revolution- 
 ists had won, and that safety for themselves lay 
 only in escape beyond the border. At once flight 
 began, led by D'Artois, the king's brother. The 
 Assembly sent a large deputation, headed by La- 
 fayette, to pacify Paris. They were received in the 
 capital with a hubbub of jubilation, drums, 
 trumpets, and flags ; flowers, tears, and kisses. 
 
 Amid wildest demonstrations Lafayette was 
 made commander of recently organized city troops, 
 some forty thousand men, soon to be known in con- 
 nection with similar forces throughout the country 
 as the National Guards. With his popularity 
 among the masses, his American fame, and this 
 command, he was now the most prominent man in 
 France. He accepted the new honor enthusiastic- 
 ally, drawing his sword and swearing to sacrifice 
 his life if need be in guarding the cause of liberty. 
 How often in the days to come was fate to be on 
 the verge of demanding that sacrifice! 
 
 Difficulty and danger enough were in those first
 
 260 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 days of command. Paris was still turbulent, still 
 unsated. Already that mania for hanging victims 
 to street lamps, that was to become one of the 
 terrors of mob rule, was seizing the populace; and 
 its fateful cry, "A la lanterne!" horrible signal of 
 death, was beginning to be heard. Several times 
 Lafayette had all he could do to silence and to de- 
 feat that cry. Once, perhaps not he but his little 
 son, George Washington, was the rescuer. "A la 
 lanterns! A la lanterne!" shrieked a maddened 
 crowd, as it seized an unoffending priest and started 
 to hang him to the nearest street lamp. Lafayette 
 appeared and sought to save the man. But the 
 mob would not be balked. At that moment it hap- 
 pened that the tutor of young George was bringing 
 him to see his father. Lafayette saw them, caught 
 up the boy, and cried, "My friends, I have the honor 
 of presenting to you my son." The half -hysterical 
 crowd was ready for any new emotion, and in its 
 "effusion" over the son of Lafayette forgot the 
 poor priest, who was quickly smuggled out of the 
 way. 
 
 Soon after taking command, Lafayette gave his 
 troops a fighting emblem most happily chosen. 
 Combining the colors of Paris, red and blue, with 
 the royal color, white, he formed a cockade of the 
 same tricolor that he had fought under with Wash- 
 ington, The new cockade was at once taken up
 
 THE END OF THE FEUDAL SYSTEM 261 
 
 outside the army, and was conspicuously worn by 
 everybody. 
 
 Yielding to what was virtually the demand of 
 Paris, the king visited the city on July 17. His 
 reception showed a strange blending of old-time 
 devotion and fear, and new-time disdain and de- 
 fiance. The new-time spirit was bound to prevail 
 to the extent of forcing Louis to accept and ratify 
 all the recent high-handed doings of the city. 
 Ratify them he must; there was no help for that 
 now. And yet, in the very doing of it, there was 
 open to him a last opportunity to save something 
 of royal estate and dignity. A princely bearing at 
 this moment, a frank acceptance of a lessened power, 
 but a proud insistence upon that power; in short a 
 quick, dramatic adoption of his new part as con- 
 stitutional king, might have caught the popular 
 fancy, and have ultimately saved Louis his throne 
 and his life. But Louis was not quick, he was not 
 dramatic, and the opportunity passed. Meekly he 
 did about as he was told, ratified everything, 
 pinned the new cockade on his hat, rather tearfully 
 expressed his great love for his people, and was 
 allowed to go. As he left Paris, all the acclamations 
 he could have wished attended him, acclamations 
 whose uproarious joy lay in his complete subjec- 
 tion. 
 
 However, evil as was that July 17 for Louis, it 
 seemed a glorious day for France. It seemed to
 
 262 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 open wide the way for her to take on liberty in a 
 peaceful, orderly way. She now had a king who 
 had fully aligned himself with the aspirations of 
 the people; she had an Assembly which was hard 
 at work upon a constitution to secure to French- 
 men all the blessings of freedom. King, Assembly, 
 and populace were all decked out with the same 
 cockade, and the air was ringing with joyous cries, 
 "Vive le roil" "Vive la nation!" 
 
 But again appearances were nothing to go by. 
 The new element in the Revolution, the mob, upset 
 all calculations. The very fact that it was about to 
 be given just what it wanted, made it unwilling to 
 wait for it. Drunk with the victory that had 
 brought it power, it was bound to run amuck. And 
 now, not the mob of Paris alone. That fall of the 
 Bastille, the biggest little event of history, was 
 making mobs all over France. While in reality it 
 was not a case of conquest at all, yet the event was 
 so catchingly suggestive of a people's triumph over 
 despotism, that it sent a wave of similar lawlessness 
 throughout the land. 
 
 [The mob was everywhere; and everywhere lesser 
 Bastilles, the chateaux of the feudal lords, were 
 burning amid scenes of violence and slaughter. 
 The Revolution had got out of hand; the ignorant 
 masses were demented; and over all the land lay 
 "the great fear." Neither the king nor the As- 
 sembly knew what to do about this new ominous
 
 THE END OF THE FEUDAL SYSTEM 263 
 
 situation. The Assembly had no army with which 
 to put down the reign of anarchy; and the king 
 none that he could depend upon, his forces fast 
 melting away in affiliation with the populace. 
 
 So July went and August came, and France, 
 with both a king and an Assembly, was left to 
 govern or to fail to govern herself. However, so 
 many and so alarming were the reports of lawless- 
 ness coming to the Assembly, that at last it was 
 forced to do something. And it did it on August 4. 
 
 What it did was as surprising a thing, as amaz- 
 ing a thing, to itself as to all France. Most of that 
 day was given to consideration of the anarchy and 
 violence that gripped the country. But the very 
 aw fulness of the situation seemed to preclude deal- 
 ing with it. Night came; the Assembly sat hope- 
 less. Hopeless, it was about to adjourn. Sud- 
 denly a young noble sprang to his feet, the brother- 
 in-law of Lafayette, the Vicomte de Noailles. 
 What of importance could that pampered son of 
 privilege have to say? That elegant courtier, 
 known chiefly as a gallant and the finest dancer at 
 the court of Versailles. What he had to say was 
 the amazing thing. 
 
 After declaring that the blame for the awful 
 situation lay more in the unjust feudal rights and 
 privileges of his own class than with the people 
 who were attacking them, he boldly proposed that 
 the remedy be the immediate and total abolition of
 
 264 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 all such relics of feudalism! The proposition took 
 the breath of the Assembly. Feudal power, for a 
 thousand years the very basis of French govern- 
 ment, to be swept away in a night, with a word! 
 The delegates gasped, and then went into a frenzy 
 of enthusiasm. And when the proposition was 
 supported by the Duke d'Aiguillon, next to the king 
 the greatest feudal lord in France, a delirium of joy 
 and of renunciation swept over the Assembly. 
 Noble vied with noble in relinquishing privilege. 
 Many beggared themselves. 
 
 All night long the excitement and the sacrifice 
 kept up. By morning more than a score of decrees 
 had been passed, still lacking some legal formalities, 
 but virtually lifting the most monstrous burden of 
 the centuries from the backs of the people. Feudal- 
 ism in France was dead. 
 
 Too bad that all this could not have worked out 
 as well as it sounded. But, for a while anyway, it 
 did not. As the news of that night's proceedings 
 in the Assembly spread over France, the peasants 
 hailed the new decrees with joy, and started at once 
 in their own way to put them into practice. Legal 
 formalities, executive machinery, none of these 
 things troubled Jacques Bonhomnte. Feudalism 
 was dead. Very well ; then what had been his lord's 
 was his. Feudal dues he laughed at; his lord's 
 forests he cut down, if only for the pleasure of 
 cutting ; his lord's game, that he had never dared to
 
 THE END OF THE FEUDAL SYSTEM 265 
 
 touch, he slaughtered in sheer, glorious wanton- 
 ness. If opposed in all this, Jacqifcs was ready with 
 stronger proofs of his emancipation, proofs that 
 pillaged estates and burning chateaux had taught his 
 lord to fear. To meet this lawlessness in the 
 provinces, National Guards, chiefly of the bourgeoi- 
 sie, were organized everywhere, and in a measure 
 they succeeded in controlling violence. 
 
 But just in proportion as they did so they were 
 sowing the seeds of future trouble. The Revolu- 
 tion had opened with a fairly united Third Estate 
 arrayed against the two higher estates, or the privi- 
 leges they represented. But the Third Estate was 
 rapidly becoming divided against itself, the bour- 
 geoisie growing every day more conservative and 
 the peasants and the artisans more radical in their 
 revolutionary spirit. And now these differences 
 came to actual conflict as peasant uprisings were 
 forcibly quelled by the bourgeois National Guards.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE MOB AND THE KING 
 
 DURING that summer and autumn of 1789 
 the situation in Paris grew worse. Not that 
 there was great actual disorder, for Lafayette and 
 his National Guards kept their grip upon the city; 
 but the populace was seething with discontent. 
 One of the chief troubles was that Paris was 
 hungry. Long bread lines stretched down the 
 streets, and often with no bread at the end of them. 
 Even the wealthy classes were unable to get enough ; 
 and engraved dinner invitations included the re- 
 quest that guests bring their own portions of bread. 
 Thomas Jefferson saw more danger at this time in 
 the short food supply than in all the other elements 
 of unrest. In September he said, "We are in 
 danger of hourly insurrection for the want of bread, 
 and an insurrection once begun for that cause may 
 associate itself with those discontented for other 
 causes and produce incalculable events." Though 
 the insurrection he feared was to come soon enough, 
 he was not to see it, as he left France at this time for 
 America. 
 
 266
 
 THE MOB AND THE KING 267 
 
 Irresponsible agitators now played upon the worst 
 impulses of the hungry populace, rabid leaders 
 who promised everything, and had charmingly di- 
 rect methods for getting it. Better for France had 
 the Assembly made less constitution and more bread. 
 Not that all these radical agitators were dema- 
 gogues or men of evil intent. Some were sincere, 
 zealous lovers of liberty, but unbalanced firebrands. 
 Among these was that strange mixture of scientific 
 ability and political fanaticism, Jean Paul Marat, 
 already hysterically demanding the death of aristo- 
 crats. 
 
 It was easy for these agitators to incite the 
 hungry populace against the Government. At Ver- 
 sailles was bread; the king and the Assembly were 
 there. The king and the Assembly should be 
 brought to Paris; then Paris would have bread. 
 Besides, what were king and Assembly doing? 
 Where was the millenium the people had been ex- 
 pecting? Who could tell but what the king was 
 even yet planning vengeance against the capital 
 which had humiliated him? He might flee the king- 
 dom and return with foreign troops to restore des- 
 potism. The thing for Paris to do was to gain 
 permanent control of the king by bringing him to the 
 city. And the Assembly should be brought with 
 him. 
 
 The immediate occasion for an outburst was fur- 
 nished at Versailles. The king brought troops
 
 268 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 there, not many, about a brigade, and probably 
 only for self -protection. But instantly Paris was 
 afire. Troops ! What was the court plotting now ? 
 
 The situation was not helped when, with the early 
 October days, there came to the capital rumors of 
 a banquet given by the officers of the king's body- 
 guard to officers of the new troops ; a night of orgy 
 in which royalist songs were sung, royalist toasts 
 drunk, the king's white cockade worn, and the na- 
 tional tricolor cockade thrown down and trampled. 
 Paris flared up; but in a demonstration so strange 
 it seemed to have no relation to these events at Ver- 
 sailles. Some say it was manipulated to appear 
 that way. 
 
 It was in the early raw morning of October 5. 
 Paris seemed quiet enough. But unaccountable 
 groups of women were in the streets; mostly 
 big-boned, gaunt women; excited, loud-talking 
 women. There was the sound of a drum, and 
 down a crooked street came something like a troop 
 of women. Above the sound of the drum was a 
 ceaseless wailing cry, a cry for bread. Into this 
 main group flowed the other groups, and from every 
 stairway, shop, and stall, women came thronging. 
 Soon the surging sea numbered some ten thousand, 
 flanked and trailed by men and boys, many of these 
 dressed as women. A fierce mob, howling and 
 brandishing weapons, and ever sending above the
 
 THE MOB AND THE KING 269 
 
 general tumult that dolorous cry, "Du pain! Du 
 pain!" 
 
 After marching to the Hotel de Ville and taking 
 possession of some cannon there, this female mob 
 suddenly started for Versailles. Off down the street 
 they went with more drums, more screeching, and 
 more women. They forced into their ranks now 
 every woman, afoot or in carriage, that they met; 
 until dainty silks and squalid rags, little satin shoes 
 and clumping wooden sabots, delicate shrinking 
 ladies and brawny yelling fishwives, all went surging 
 together toward the royal city. 
 
 Lafayette soon had a large body of National 
 Guards at the Hotel de Ville. But the situation was 
 difficult. The city was rising; the troops were not 
 dependable; the municipal government hesitated. 
 Lafayette, sitting his white horse, held his Guards 
 in restraint. The soldiers were for marching at 
 once to Versailles; not so much to quell the mob, 
 as to get the king and to bring him to Paris. Im- 
 patient, irritable, half -mutinous, they awaited the 
 decision of the tall, slender young man on the white 
 horse. And as he looked about, upon scowling 
 soldiery fringed by another gathering mob, he knew 
 that his authority, indeed his life, hung by a thread. 
 Pale but composed, he held troops and mob; and 
 nothing but dauntless courage saved Lafayette that 
 day. More than once weapons were aimed at him, 
 and more than once the cry, "A la lanterne!" came
 
 270 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 to his ears. At last he and the Paris officials, trying 
 to look as though they were voicing their own will, 
 ordered the march to Versailles. The white horse 
 wheeled to the head of the line ; the soldiers fell in ; 
 and as the National Guard moved off, the fickle 
 Paris populace was shouting itself hoarse, "Vive 
 Lafayette!" 
 
 Meanwhile the mob of women was well on its 
 way to the royal city. And what would Benjamin 
 Franklin have thought, had he still been at the 
 Hotel de Valentinois, as that wild, lawless mass 
 went howling through Passy, in the name of liberty ! 
 Rain was falling now. It was coming down in 
 torrents by the time Versailles was reached. But 
 rain and bedragglement only added to the fury of 
 that clamorous sea as it surged almost to the palace 
 gates. 
 
 Drawn up on the Place d'Armes were troops of 
 the king. But to no purpose. "You will not fire 
 upon women!" And at that cry the troops were 
 useless. The women rushed forward and hung 
 about the soldiers' necks. It was fairly opera bouffe. 
 The crack regiment of the king, undependable, was 
 sent to barracks. It was well for Louis that his 
 body-guards were back within the iron barred court 
 of the palace. After some fighting among them- 
 selves the women got a delegation sent off to the 
 king and one to the Assembly. These met with fair 
 words. But the women could not eat words. And
 
 THE MOB AND THE KING 271 
 
 hunger gnawed, and night came, and the rain fell. 
 The crowd grew uglier. Weapons were brandished, 
 and ominous torches flamed near the cannon. 
 
 To besieged royalty within the palace comes 
 hoarse and sinister the long-drawn roar of the mob. 
 The king with his counselors is in his cabinet; the 
 queen in her own apartments ; while nobles and ladies 
 of the court, restless, apprehensive, roam the palace, 
 scarcely speaking to one another, but tensely lis- 
 tening. To their ears come the sounds of gun 
 shots. Not many, but ominous. What is the king 
 going to do? Now the report runs through the 
 palace that he has determined upon flight; again, 
 that he has changed his mind. One moment it is 
 learned that the royal carriages are ordered; the 
 next, that the mob women have cut the traces. It 
 is too late now; flight is impossible. 
 
 At last, out in the wet blackness, far down the 
 central avenue toward Paris, moving lights were 
 to be seen. Lafayette was coming. With torches 
 flaring wildly in wind and rain, twenty thousand 
 National Guards marched into Versailles. The king 
 received Lafayette gladly, and the protection of the 
 outer posts of the palace, on the side toward the 
 city, was assigned to him. Much better had the 
 entire defense been placed in his hands. Lafayette 
 attended to the disposition of his troops; and then 
 toward morning went to his old home, the Hotel 
 de Noailles, where he made his headquarters. No
 
 272 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 pleasant thoughts were his. So this was what the 
 bright dreams of liberty in France had come to! 
 Unholy despotism gone; but hideous, brutal, mob 
 rule in its place. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the guarded palace, the royal 
 family had retired for what repose might be theirs 
 after that day of anxiety and fear. There, too, all 
 was quiet, and no warning came of what was 
 brewing out in the darkness and the rain. Once 
 rough voices in the thick dawn roused the unhappy 
 queen, raised, her on white elbow, with quick 
 anxious glance from her velvet-hung bed. A lady 
 in waiting, heavy-eyed, looked from a window, and 
 assured Her Majesty that there seemed to be only 
 some women of the mob moving about as though 
 they did not know where to go. The queen rested 
 again. And for the last time at Versailles. 
 
 A little later, it all happened. Nobody knows 
 just how. That gate on the garden side, was it 
 ill defended, or treacherously? It matters not now. 
 
 The mob has gained the inner court, is rushing 
 with wild cries over hacked and slain sentinel 
 guards, and up the grand staircase into the palace. 
 In fury against the queen, the rabble surges toward 
 her apartments. The king's body-guards fighting, 
 overpowered, falling back, shout to waiting women, 
 "Save the queen ! Save the queen !" Marie Antoi- 
 nette, leaping from her bed, rushes through a little
 
 THE MOB AND THE KING 273 
 
 doorway beside it; and even as she flees down a 
 passage leading to the king's apartments, brutal 
 pikes are striking and stabbing where a moment ago 
 she was lying. 
 
 Now while the king, the queen, and their children 
 gather together in the imminence of death, the loyal 
 body-guards are barricading a near-by hall and 
 making their last stand in defense of the royal 
 family. A handful of soldiers, a heap of dainty 
 tables and chairs, against an oncoming frenzied 
 horde. The turmoil roars up to the very barricaded 
 wall. How many minutes will that frail defense 
 hold ? But suddenly the attack ceases and the com- 
 motion dies down. Out of the strange quiet come 
 friendly reassuring voices. The barricade is torn 
 away, the doors flung open. There, thanks to 
 Lafayette's prompt action, stands a body of his 
 National Guards. The royal family is saved. 
 
 Out in the court of the palace Lafayette himself 
 was seeking to control the mob, and to rescue some 
 of the king's body-guards who had fallen into its 
 clutches. Already the heads of two of their com- 
 rades were being paraded on pikes. He entered 
 the palace, consulted with the king and queen, and, 
 going out upon a balcony, addressed the mob to 
 gain time. But not even Lafayette could prevail 
 against the demand that the mob was shouting now, 
 that the royal family should be carried to Paris.
 
 274 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 In response to clamorous calls, Louis appeared. 
 He signed to the people, or they took it so, that he 
 would go. Now there were deafening cheers; and 
 amidst cries of, "Vive le roil" the king reentered 
 the palace. But the queen? She hesitated for a 
 moment, then stepped bravely out upon the balcony 
 before a mob that only an hour ago was shrieking 
 for her head. Lafayette, knowing her danger, was 
 at her side. And now for a second time that day he 
 risked all in defense of the royal family. Unable 
 to make himself heard, he resorted to quick-witted 
 chivalry. Bending low, he raised and kissed the 
 cold hand of the queen. An act that might well 
 have sealed his own fate. But courage and chivalry 
 won. Threats changed to cheers. "Vive la reinel" 
 shouted the crowd, "Vive Lafayette!" 
 
 But all this did not stay that other cry, "Le roi 
 & Paris!" Inevitably and without delay, to Paris 
 the king must go. Like evicted tenants the royal 
 family stepped from the grand palace of the Bour- 
 bons out into the midst of the motley, bedraggled 
 crowd, on into the great coach that awaited them, 
 the king, the queen, Madame Royale, and the young 
 dauphin. Tears were in the eyes of the golden- 
 haired boy for the loss, not of his royal home, but 
 of his little garden whose flowers were always for 
 his mother. He would not be comforted, crying 
 that he would have no flowers to give her when 
 they returned. "When we return!" exclaimed the
 
 THE MOB AND THE KING 275 
 
 queen with quick tears, clasping the boy in her arms. 
 "Ah, I think that will never be!" 
 
 Lafayette disposed his troops to best control the 
 mob, and reined his horse up beside the royal coach. 
 About noon, and in a drizzle, the chaotic procession 
 got under way and passed roaring out of Versailles. 
 Behind it the magnificent forsaken palace, windows 
 open, doors swinging in the wind, seemed left 
 mutely aghast, staring its last upon royalty. 
 
 On Parisward went chaos; not raging now, as 
 when it moved out upon Versailles; but infinitely 
 worse, hilarious! Hideously, foully hilarious! 
 Lafayette could protect the royal family from 
 violence; he could not from torture. Torture from 
 slow, halting progress; torture from pressing mob, 
 laughing, singing, dancing, almost to the doors of 
 the carriage ; torture from ribald jeers at the queen, 
 that made the little dauphin cry out piteously, 
 "Mercy for mamma! Mercy for mamma!" 
 
 Still on went hilarity and humiliation through 
 drizzle and mud. On through the daylight, into the 
 night. But at length into Paris. There, in re- 
 doubled tumult, mob flowed into mob. And the 
 greeting cry was, "We have got the baker, and the 
 baker's wife, and the baker's little boy. Now we 
 shall have bread!" For crowning mockery, a re- 
 ception to the king at the Hotel de Ville. At last 
 even that day came to an end. The old shabby royal
 
 276 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 palace, the Tuileries, opened its doors and received, 
 for the first time in half a century, a resident king, 
 received him virtually as a prisoner. Again the mob 
 had won.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 FRANCE'S PART OF SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 FOR a long time after the great upheaval of 
 October 5 and 6, 1789, the course of France 
 on her way to liberty was a rather quiet and un- 
 eventful one. The Assembly soon had to follow 
 the king to Paris. It established itself in a long 
 plain building almost on the edge of the Tuileries 
 gardens, and which had once been the royal riding- 
 school, the Salle du Manege. So with only the 
 palace gardens between them the king and the As- 
 sembly took up again their rule of France. It was 
 something of a mockery, the king virtually a 
 prisoner in the Tuileries, and the Assembly overrun 
 by lawless crowds that almost dominated its pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 As between themselves, the king and the As- 
 sembly kept up their contest for sovereignty, to the 
 constant disadvantage of the king. More and more 
 the Assembly took on executive powers, issuing its 
 own decrees for governing the country; and in the 
 constitutional monarchy that it was framing, mon- 
 archy was being written small. As the constitution 
 
 277
 
 278 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 was being put into force piecemeal, each article 
 effective as soon as adopted, Louis's autocratic 
 power was melting fast. All along there was a sort 
 of tacit understanding, however, that the completed 
 constitution was to leave in the king the power of 
 veto; and accordingly now as decrees were voted 
 in the Assembly, they were sent to the king for his 
 signature. But this was all make-believe ; there was 
 nothing for the King of France to do but to sign 
 what he was told to sign. The Assembly, over the 
 signature of an autocrat, was establishing popular 
 sovereignty. The whole country was politically 
 redivided; conditions of suffrage decreed; new law 
 courts established; all titles abolished; and the 
 mighty fabric of the Church severed from papal 
 authority and made a creature of the State. This 
 last step was one of fatal consequences. Most of 
 the clergy would not take the oath to become mere 
 civil officials, and an element of religious war was 
 introduced into the Revolution. 
 
 The Assembly continued so to restrain and be- 
 little the royal family as to make a strange and 
 incongruous court life at the Tuileries. Surrounded 
 by guards, and in constantly dwindling state, king 
 and queen rather perfunctorily maintained court 
 ceremony. It was all but a shadow of the past, and 
 all with a tinge of melancholy. The king no longer 
 kept up the royal hunts, and the queen absented 
 herself from many functions.
 
 FRANCE'S PART 279 
 
 But the little dauphin knew less of change from 
 the days of Versailles, for again he had his garden. 
 It was in a sheltered corner down by the Seine. 
 And now, besides furnishing the bouquets for 
 "mama-Queen," the garden was serving a new 
 purpose. An absorbing interest in military affairs 
 possessed the boy. He had several small cannon 
 among his flowers, and they were fired when he 
 gave the signal with his sword. A famous military 
 body of boys, of which he was honorary colonel, 
 often maneuvered in the garden. They were little 
 uniformed miniatures of the French Guards, and 
 the young prince was proud of his Regiment du 
 Dauphin. It was well for him to make the most of 
 his last days of happiness, for he was soon to be- 
 come the most pitiful victim of the French Revo- 
 lution. 
 
 Months went by, and now it was the summer of 
 1790, and just ahead was a day not likely to be 
 overlooked by Frenchmen July 14, the anniversary 
 of the fall of the Bastille. It was determined to 
 celebrate the day in Paris with a magnificent Fes- 
 tival of Fraternity, to which delegates from all 
 France should be invited. For this purpose the 
 Champ de Mars was converted into an immense 
 amphitheater by the voluntary joyous labor of 
 thousands of Parisians of all classes. Enthusiasm 
 redoubled as the delegates from the provinces came 
 marching into the capital. They came in endless
 
 2 8o SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 troops, many of them singing a song known by the 
 words that Franklin had made famous, "(To ira." 
 July 14 came, and inauspiciously, with clouds and 
 rain. But French enthusiasm was proof against 
 the weather. 
 
 Hundreds of thousands of persons gathered in 
 and about the great amphitheater. Bands played, 
 cannon roared, and the sounds of both were at 
 times drowned by the mighty voice of the people in 
 vivats to liberty. At one end of the enclosed field 
 was a triumphal arch, at the other end a pavilion 
 for the king and the Assembly, while in the center 
 stood an immense altar, the "Altar of the Country," 
 with flights of fifty steps leading up to it. Despite 
 the rain, there were processions, spectacles, dances, 
 and mock combats. In the midst of all the proceed- 
 ings, Lafayette on his white horse was the con- 
 trolling figure. Now came the supreme ceremony, 
 the taking of the oath to the still unfinished con- 
 stitution. Two hundred priests in white approached 
 the great "Altar of the Country" and placed the 
 sacred oriflamme of St. Denis upon it where waves 
 of incense rose. Lafayette rode to the pavilion, and, 
 dismounting, approached the king. He received 
 from Louis the form of the oath. Then, ascending 
 the many steps to the altar, he laid his sword upon 
 it, and, turning, faced the multitude. There was 
 a moment of intense silence as he repeated the oath, 
 vowing to be faithful to the nation, the constitution,
 
 FRANCE'S PART 281 
 
 and the king. Then, at his signal, and as a tri- 
 colored flame shot upward, there was suddenly a 
 sea of raised hands, and in the words, "I swear!" 
 came the thundering vow of the assemblage. Louis 
 next took the oath: "I, King of the French, swear 
 to protect the constitution I have accepted." As 
 now the queen held out the little dauphin to the 
 people, the vast throng burst into wildest jubilation, 
 and bands and cannon crashed in to swell the uproar. 
 For the rest of the day and throughout the night 
 all Paris was singing, dancing, and feasting in 
 rapturous celebration of the downfall of feudalism 
 and the birth of liberty. 
 
 It was a premature jubilee. France had seas of 
 blood yet to wade through before liberty could be 
 hers, and the false confidence and optimism of that 
 day had a bad effect. With the comfortable feeling 
 that the cause was won, and only a few details yet 
 to be worked out, a majority of the conservatives, 
 both in the Assembly and out of it, became apa- 
 thetic; unfortunately apathetic, for, despite their 
 failings, it was to the conservatives alone that 
 France could look for peaceful reform. At the same 
 time the ultra royalists and the ultra revolutionists 
 became increasingly militant. Probably by the end 
 of that year 1790 but two great conservative figures 
 were effectively restraining these extreme parties, 
 that slender figure on the white horse, ideal knight 
 of the Revolution; and that huge, horrible figure
 
 282 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 now dragging to vile death, greatest intellect of 
 France. 
 
 But, ill supported by their fellow moderates, not 
 even Lafayette and Mirabeau could save the day 
 for orderly development toward liberty. Early in 
 1791 Mirabeau died. The power for moderation 
 he had wielded was shown by the fierce radicalism 
 that was at once let loose. Among the revolution- 
 ists this centered especially in two political clubs, 
 the Cordeliers and the Jacobins. These organiza- 
 tions, at first but social or debating societies, were 
 now fast becoming hotbeds of rabid revolutionism. 
 
 Two men, long prominent leaders in these clubs, 
 but heretofore held in some restraint by the over- 
 aweing power of Mirabeau, now came rapidly and 
 ominously to the front. One of these was a big 
 brawny man whose massive features were distorted 
 by a hair lip and a flattened nose, and yet who 
 somehow had a rugged attractiveness; though not 
 essentially cruel as a man, he at times was to prove 
 inhuman as a revolutionist. That was Danton. 
 The other club leader was a stiff little lawyer, with 
 dim eyes, large spectacles, and a green coat; he 
 had no particular looks, certainly none in keeping 
 with the important and tragic part he was to play; 
 though perhaps not a bloodthirsty man, he was so 
 fierce a reformer that the guillotine was to run red 
 with blood in his attempt to make France a Utopia. 
 That was Robespierre.' These two men, together
 
 FRANCE'S PART 283 
 
 with the yet more rabid Marat, stood above all 
 others as popular leaders. 
 
 Among the royalists boldness now grew. The 
 queen was the chief firebrand. Humiliated, threat- 
 ened, insulted, and with the throne to which her 
 son was heir crumbling before her eyes, she felt 
 the royal position intolerable, and she was plotting 
 inside and outside of France to undo the work of 
 the Revolution. The king, weak and undecided, 
 was a troublesome factor in her schemes, and in 
 those of all his supporters. But by this summer of 
 1791 the royalists were ready for an attempt to 
 break through restraint and to play their master 
 stroke for the ancien regime. A plan was matured 
 by which the royal family were to escape from 
 Paris, the king was to join a supposedly loyal army 
 on the frontier, and to call all royalists to his sup- 
 port. Doubtless the scheme included promised as- 
 sistance from Austria. Elaborate preparations were 
 made for the flight from the well-guarded Tuileries. 
 
 On the night of Monday, June 20, in the midst 
 of the usual throng coming and going at the palace, 
 the attempt was made. There were hasty flittings 
 through dark passages; quick donning of disguises, 
 making the King of France a servant, the dauphin 
 a little girl, and a noted count a cabman; there 
 were misunderstandings and mishaps and perilous 
 moments. But at length, about two o'clock in the 
 morning, a shabby coach containing the royal family
 
 284 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 was rolling through the darkness along an open 
 highway, with Paris just behind. The driver who, 
 under his rough coat and cabman's hat, was the 
 Count de Fersen, drew up his horses and peered 
 about. He got down from the box and walked 
 along the road. With relief he discovered in the 
 gloom an immense berline or traveling carriage 
 with four horses, drawn up at the side of the road, 
 its lights out, and its attendants silent and motion- 
 less. The royal family were quickly installed in the 
 luxurious berline, and now with the four horses 
 off at full speed, the real flight began. 
 
 The king, seeking to reach the northeastern fron- 
 tier, would experience his greatest danger in the 
 first hundred miles from Paris. For that distance 
 there would be but the slender disguises and an 
 irregular passport to depend upon. Beyond that 
 troops were stationed to cover the flight All went 
 well with the fugitives, or so they thought. As 
 they rode on out of darkness into daylight their 
 spirits rose. By midday the king was confident 
 and imprudent. He even insisted upon getting out 
 at posting-stations. Of course he was recognized. 
 But through that day and into the night the great 
 berline rolled on unopposed. Toward midnight it 
 was approaching the little town of Varennes. The 
 fugitives were elated. Just beyond this place they 
 were to find strong military support. But at this 
 point the flight broke down. At Varennes the royal
 
 FRANCE'S PART 285 
 
 family were arrested, when within a few hundred 
 yards of safety. After being lodged for a while 
 over a grocery shop, they were started back to 
 Paris. That slow return journey, with mocking, 
 insulting crowds pressing about the berline, was 
 almost unbearable torture. When the fugitives 
 again entered the Tuileries, Marie Antoinette's hair 
 was white. Now, more than ever before, the king 
 and the queen were prisoners. Sentinels were all 
 about the palace, within and without, even at the 
 doors of the royal chambers. 
 
 That flight of the king was one of the most im- 
 portant occurrences of the French Revolution. As 
 an event in itself it was simply a pitiful fiasco; but 
 as a breeder of events it was epochal. One of its 
 first effects lay in its own recoil; what had been 
 intended as a master stroke for royalism, had played 
 into the hands of the revolutionists. Louis had been 
 a poor enough figure to rally around before; he was 
 virtually a nonentity now. Indeed, he was scarcely 
 king at all ; for the Assembly assumed his functions, 
 and at best his kingly power was for the time sus- 
 pended. Many of his stanchest supporters lost 
 heart, and a large conservative class that had been 
 hovering on the dge of royalism fell away. 
 
 Then, too, the flight gave the extreme revolu- 
 tionists unlooked-for opportunities, and their efforts 
 became more open and pronounced for the over- 
 throw of the monarchy. A great handle for them
 
 286 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 lay in the practical question now arising as to what 
 was to be done with a king who had virtually re- 
 nounced a constitution, even an incomplete one, to 
 which he had sworn allegiance. Some of them de- 
 clared that he had abdicated; some that he must 
 be deposed. And through all their talk ran a new 
 note, the first out-and-out demand that France be- 
 come a republic. From this time we may fairly 
 enough call these ultra-revolutionists republicans. 
 
 So far as the discomfited and weakened royalists 
 were concerned, these republicans had now a free 
 hand to dispose of both Louis and the monarchy, 
 yet they were to be foiled by a sort of eleventh-hour 
 awakening on the part of the conservatives. To 
 them a republic was almost as objectionable as an 
 autocracy; and, besides, it would wholly undo all 
 the Assembly's long labors upon a constitutional 
 monarchy. So aroused did this moderate party 
 become upon this point, that for a time it quite 
 dominated the situation. In the Assembly it de- 
 feated all efforts to dethrone the king, even resorting 
 for this purpose to some amusing fictions. One of 
 these was the solemn declaration that Louis had not 
 been guilty of flight, but had been "carried off" 
 by enemies of the country. Worsted in the Assem- 
 bly, the republicans and their adherents dramatically 
 carried the contest outside. They resolved upon 
 obtaining popular support by means of a monster 
 petition for the dethronement of the king.
 
 FRANCE'S PART 287 
 
 Upon Sunday, July 17, 1791, a vast throng gath- 
 ered in the Champ de Mars, the great petition 
 being placed upon the "Altar of the Country." The 
 Jacobins had their supporters there from the slums 
 of the city. Disorder arose, and two men were torn 
 to pieces. Upon this, Lafayette with his National 
 Guards marched to the scene. They were received 
 with hootings and showers of stones, and a riot 
 ensued. One man fired at Lafayette and was ar- 
 rested, but the general set him at liberty. The mob 
 refused to disperse, and finally was fired upon by 
 the Guards. Some of the rioters were killed and 
 the others fled. 
 
 The conservatives had won for the time, any- 
 way, in the field as well as in the forum. And 
 now they made the most of their ascendancy to 
 finish the constitution according to their own ideas. 
 This they accomplished by the beginning of Sep- 
 tember, 1791, and at once the instrument, repre- 
 senting over two years' labor of the Assembly, was 
 sent in formal farce to the king for his sanction. 
 Louis, after some ten days of supposedly grave con- 
 sideration, did what from the first he knew he had 
 to do; and now the long-awaited constitution stood 
 complete with the royal signature and the royal 
 oath. 
 
 It was not a good constitution. It scarcely could 
 have been in the circumstances. Born of 'hate and 
 fear, and nurtured upon sentimentality, it was
 
 288 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 bound to be a weakling. Retaining kingship as the 
 executive power, it provided a lawmaking body in 
 a single house of representatives, the Legislative 
 Assembly. And then it proceeded to mix the 
 functions of these two branches of government 
 until the throne was unduly weakened in executive 
 power, and the Legislative Assembly was burdened 
 with administrative duties it was not qualified to 
 perform. There were numerous other defects. But 
 the conservatives did not see them ; or, seeing, knew 
 that they saw too late, and shut their eyes. They 
 succeeded in overcoming all opposition, and in 
 launching the new form of government amidst 
 great popular enthusiasm. The precious constitu- 
 tion was to bring to France the golden age. Now, 
 of course, Louis was restored to his kingly powers, 
 what there were left of them. The royal family 
 was ostentatiously given a deceptive sort of free- 
 dom; and in the general rejoicing they appeared in 
 public with some degree of their old-time splendor. 
 To cap this season of pitifully mistaken rapture, 
 Paris delightedly celebrated "the end of the Revo- 
 lution"! 
 
 And had this been the end of the Revolution, it 
 would have been a quite successful one. Already 
 France was truly made over. The old despotic 
 monarchy was dead, and a new constitutional mon- 
 archy set up in its stead ; that evil relic of the middle 
 ages, feudalism, was overthrown; the most unjust
 
 FRANCE'S PART 289 
 
 forms of privilege and inequality were abolished; 
 popular sovereignty was established. The fact was 
 that already France had acquired all the liberty she 
 could yet either understand or rightly use. Never- 
 theless this was not the end but merely a pause in 
 the Revolution which was soon to sweep on with a 
 new and awful intensity. 
 
 In the meantime no one was more deceived than 
 Lafayette by the mirage of peace and prosperity. 
 In an optimistic fervor he resigned his command of 
 the National Guards and prepared to retire to one 
 of his estates. He was probably even up to this time 
 the most powerful individual in France ; and his re- 
 tirement was accompanied by many marks of 
 honor. Amid the cheers of Paris he and the little 
 marquise rode out of the city gate in their great yel- 
 low coach drawn by four black horses, the rest of 
 the family and the servants following. 
 
 The journey was to be to Lafayette's birthplace, 
 the mountain stronghold, Chavaniac, in the old 
 province of Auvergne. It was golden autumn 
 weather. All the way was triumphal, bells of town 
 and village ringing at his coming, escorts forming 
 with bands and banners, town officials meeting him 
 with the "wine of honor," admiring crowds pressing 
 about the yellow coach, crying, "Vive Lafayette !" 
 "Five le defenseur de la liberte!" Toward the end 
 of the journey they climbed slowly up into a strange, 
 still, mountain country, where stern castles of over-
 
 290 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 lords frowned from the heights, and the homes of 
 humble peasants clustered below. The mountain 
 towns, too, stayed Lafayette with festivities in his 
 honor, and then sent escorts on with him, their 
 banners flying by day and by night their flaring 
 flambeaux lighting the lava highways. 
 
 So at last the travelers came to the Chateau de 
 Chavaniac, with its massive gray walls and its huge 
 round towers, a little village nestling close. There 
 was something almost medieval in the scene as the 
 villagers crowded out to greet their hero lord, 
 bowing low and even kneeling at the wayside. 
 
 And honors followed Lafayette to his mountain 
 home. Soon a deputation from his National Guards 
 in Paris came to Chavaniac and presented a hand- 
 some sword to their old commander. Its two-edged 
 blade was forged from bolts of the Bastille, and 
 presented symbolic designs damascened in gold. 
 Among these were representations of the taking of 
 the Bastille, of the Column of Liberty raised upon 
 its site, and of the ringing of the dread tocsin. This 
 blade was to form France's part of the Sword of 
 Liberty.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 STORMING THE TUILERIES 
 
 IN that autumn of 1791 steps were taken to in- 
 augurate the new form of government. The 
 National Constituent Assembly ordered an election 
 for its successor under the constitution, the Legis- 
 lative Assembly. And then on September 30 it de- 
 clared its own mission fulfilled and passed out of 
 existence. The Legislative Assembly convened in 
 Paris on October I, and in the same building, the 
 Salle du Manege, that had been occupied by the 
 Constituent Assembly. Now France entered upon 
 her brief but dramatic career as a constitutional 
 monarchy. 
 
 In many respects she started auspiciously. The 
 French people were ready enough to support even 
 the faulty constitution, and so were a majority of 
 the members of the Legislative Assembly. That 
 body soon divided along party lines. There was a 
 large group of stanch supporters of the new gov- 
 ernment, called the Feuillants or Constitutionalists; 
 and there were two smaller opposition groups of 
 
 republicans, one called the Gironde and the other 
 
 291
 
 292 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 called the Mountain. This left a large floating 
 membership, naturally inclined to vote with the 
 Constitutionalists. 
 
 The two groups of republicans, or men of re- 
 publican sentiment, the Gironde and the Mountain, 
 were soon to become famous. They had surprising 
 influence, for a minority, in the proceedings of the 
 Assembly, although they were always at war with 
 each other. The chief difference between them was 
 that between theory and practice. The Gironde 
 at first, anyway was temperate in its opposition to 
 the constitutional monarchy; its members only 
 visioning an ideal republic they were scarcely ready 
 to strike for. The Mountain stood for more ex- 
 treme measures, its members soon being ready to 
 strike for any sort of republic and do the idealizing 
 afterward. 
 
 Before long these two minority groups, with the 
 Gironde in the lead, dominated the Legislative As- 
 sembly. Their peculiar strength was due to the 
 ability of their leaders and to their being supported 
 from the outside by the mob. For by this time the 
 Paris populace was thoroughly dissatisfied with 
 what it was getting out of the Revolution. Despite 
 reforms there was not the expected betterment in 
 the lot of the poor. The Jacobins and the Cor- 
 deliers cleverly used the discontented masses to pack 
 the galleries of the Assembly hall. So the skilful 
 republican leaders on the floor, abetted by a howling
 
 STORMING THE TUILERIES 293 
 
 mob in the galleries, forced legislation that weak- 
 ened the Government by arraying king and Assem- 
 bly against each other. 
 
 Such legislation was likely to succeed because 
 most of the members were suspicious that Louis 
 was not honestly supporting the new government, 
 but was conspiring with foreign powers to over- 
 throw it. This suspicion was indeed well founded. 
 By the spring of 1792 some of the neighboring 
 states had made considerable preparation toward 
 armed intervention. Austria was in the lead, and 
 against her the Legislative Assembly declared war 
 on April 20. Soon Prussia entered the contest as 
 an ally of Austria; the combined armies being placed 
 under command of one of the most famous generals 
 of the times, the Duke of Brunswick. 
 
 The French put three armies in the field under 
 Rochambeau, Lafayette, and Liickner. Wholly 
 inferior to the enemy in numbers, training, and 
 equipment, they soon were overcome and almost 
 routed. The tidings qf defeat and of the unpre- 
 pared condition of the French armies frightened 
 and enraged Paris ; and led to a lawless demonstra- 
 tion on June 20, 1792. A mob of several thousand 
 men and women, somehow allowed to enter the 
 gates of the Tuileries, crowded into the palace and 
 to the apartments of the royal family. There they 
 jeered and threatened the king, at bay in a window 
 recess, and the queen, in refuge with the dauphin
 
 294 t SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 f 
 behind a table. There was no actual violence, but 
 
 for hours the royal family were subjected to hu- 
 miliation and insult, Louis maintaining what kingly 
 dignity he could in a red liberty cap that had been 
 thrust upon his head. 
 
 For a little while after this disgraceful event it 
 seemed likely to help rather than to hurt the royal 
 cause. A wave of resentment swept over France. 
 But nobody did anything in particular except 
 Lafayette. At once upon receiving the news in his 
 camp on the frontier, he started indignantly for 
 Paris, reaching the city upon June 28. It was a 
 brave visit, for he knew that where, a little while 
 ago, he and his fellow-conservatives were in power, 
 the rabid revolutionists now held sway; and that 
 the Jacobins among them would stop at nothing 
 to put him out of the way. But he appeared before 
 the Assembly, condemned the attack upon the 
 Tuileries, denounced the Jacobins as the guilty 
 instigators, and demanded their punishment. 
 
 Then he tried to plan for the protection of the 
 king and the queen, and to rally about him enough 
 of the old conservative element to restore to Paris 
 law and order. But Louis and Marie Antoinette 
 would accept no aid from the man who had done 
 so much to overthrow the old autocracy; and few 
 of the moderates dared to align themselves with 
 Lafayette in defiance of the all-powerful Jacobins. 
 The Revolution had leaped all restraint; and he,
 
 STORMING THE TUILERIES 295 
 
 so lately the idol of Paris, was fortunate to live to 
 leave the city. Indeed, he had scarcely started back 
 to his army when there was a demonstration against 
 him, and he was burned in effigy. 
 
 The slight reaction in favor of the king died out, 
 and the revolutionary movement that was to over- 
 throw him gathered headway again. Its leaders, the 
 Jacobins, now prepared for a final blow to mon- 
 archy, the taking of the Tuileries by storm. This 
 would be no small undertaking. The palace was 
 something of a fortress for those days, with cannon 
 and large supplies of ammunition. In case of attack 
 it would have a garrison of some six thousand men. 
 But the Jacobins knew the irresistible power, partly 
 of frenzied patriots and partly of lawless rabble, that 
 they could incite to the attack. By this time they had 
 gained control of the city government of Paris, 
 and commanded enough votes in the Assembly to 
 shape the situation to their ends. The National 
 Guard was re-officered to their liking, and its ranks 
 filled with the lowest characters; the mob element 
 was armed with pikes and held in readiness. By 
 the middle of July many members of the provincial 
 National Guards were in Paris to celebrate again 
 the anniversary of the fall of the Bastille, and the 
 Jacobins prevailed upon such of these as they 
 wanted to remain in the city. 
 
 As the hot days of July went by, everybody felt 
 the growing tension, and probably everybody knew
 
 296 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 what was afoot. The situation grew so alarming 
 that friends of the king and the queen urged them to 
 fly, and planned for their escape, but they refused 
 to leave Paris. They were yet looking, for their 
 salvation and their triumph, to the coming of the 
 armies of the allies. 
 
 About the end of the month occurred two events 
 that inflamed the pent-up forces and precipitated 
 explosion. Into the city marched a band of men, 
 some five hundred, that the Jacobins had sent for. 
 They were "the men of Marseilles." Probably 
 not the desperate characters they have been painted, 
 more likely fanatical patriots, but yet men keyed 
 up to savage violence. Passing in by St. Anthony's 
 Gate, through cheering throngs, they raised their 
 famous new marching song, which has come down 
 across many battle-fields to our own time, "La Mar- 
 seillaise." And almost coincident with this stirring 
 event in Paris came the other one. The Duke of 
 Brunswick, at the head of the invading armies, is- 
 sued a manifesto demanding the restoration of the 
 ancien regime, and threatening that if any harm 
 came to the royal family, the allies would destroy 
 Paris. That proclamation produced just the oppo- 
 site effect from the one intended. It turned France 
 in wrath against her king. 
 
 Altogether, the time was now ripe for the 
 Jacobins' great blow which was to bring the down- 
 fall of Louis and the French monarchy. By Thurs-
 
 STORMING THE TUILERIES 297 
 
 day, August 9, all Paris knew that the blow was 
 to fall next day; and although that night the city 
 lay quiet enough, it was not sleeping. It was wait- 
 ing tensely for a sound in the darkness, the clangor 
 of church bells that everybody knew was to be the 
 dread tocsin. It was a hot, stifling night, moonless, 
 but showing the stars. There by the Seine, under 
 their pale light, loomed the huge dark bulk of 
 the Tuileries, glowing windows marking vigil and 
 preparation. To the east, well up the river, the 
 Hotel de Ville was alight. There members of the 
 municipal government were gathered in their council 
 chamber, mostly Jacobins now, though not all, and 
 more than one hesitating over that night's work. 
 In a room apart from them was gathered another 
 group of men, having no recognized place there, 
 but waiting. As the night wore on, an unruly 
 crowd flowed in and out of the council chamber, 
 boisterously interfering with deliberations there. 
 And then, as at a signal, those waiting men from 
 the other room made their way in, broke up the 
 regular proceedings, and seized upon the city gov- 
 ernment. They were a body of desperate leaders, 
 creatures of Danton. 
 
 It was the coup d'etat of rabid revolutionism. 
 Now Paris was completely in the grip of a band of 
 Jacobins of Jacobins, soon to become infamous 
 under the name of the Revolutionary Commune. 
 Hesitation ceased. Midnight quiet was suddenly
 
 298 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 broken by clangor of bells. Then fanatical Paris 
 burst into the streets, and "anarchy began." But 
 it was a long time reaching its victims. About the 
 Tuileries, as one hot hour of darkness followed 
 another, all was quiet, and the streets stretched 
 empty. Within the palace tense figures were relax- 
 ing, and even jests passed upon the failure of the 
 tocsin and the cowardice of the canaille. 
 
 Darkness paled and morning came. With that, 
 jesting ceased. From the direction of the Seine 
 came an ominous roar, close followed by a tossing 
 forest of pikes. Soon about the palace, and as far as 
 the eye could reach, was a wild chaos, the chaos that 
 was master in those days, the mob. It threw itself 
 against the oaken gates of the palisade and burst 
 through. There was at first only a skirmish, the 
 Swiss Guards charging the mob and driving it 
 shrieking back through the gates. But the living 
 deluge receded only to surge forward again; and 
 this time more formidably, the men of Marseilles 
 at the front. 
 
 There was a lull for a while as both sides gathered 
 for sterner work. At this time Louis allowed him- 
 self to be persuaded that the palace could not hold 
 out The western gardens were still free of the 
 mob; and he and his family, the spirited queen 
 vehemently protesting, slipped away under the stiff- 
 set trees to take refuge with the Assembly. That 
 was a great mistake according to the judgment of a
 
 STORMING THE TUILERIES 299 
 
 little, sallow-faced young man who was looking 
 on that day. He was confident that, had Louis re- 
 mained and led, the Swiss could have held the 
 palace. Likely he was right, for, though then 
 scarcely more than a boy, his name was Napoleon 
 Bonaparte. 
 
 Now the fight began again. The mob, headed by 
 the men of Marseilles came on, but were met by a 
 volley from the Swiss and a sudden charge. The 
 defenders were doing well when their commander 
 received an order sent by the king to cease firing. 
 Though not at once understood and obeyed by all 
 the Swiss, the order caused confusion and weak- 
 ness; and by a bold dash the mob got within the 
 walls. The rest was wholesale massacre and the 
 sacking of the palace. At last even the shrieks of 
 victims and the crash of destruction were over, 
 and most of the mob was gone. The quiet of ruined 
 royal apartments was broken only by the looting and 
 the laughter of a drunken rabble, decked in the 
 finery of kings. 
 
 Meanwhile, the royal family had found sanctuary, 
 such as it was, in the hall of the Assembly, the slow 
 king stolid, unperturbed; the proud queen broken, 
 crushed. They were treated with cold respect, and 
 huddled into a small back room or reporters' box 
 to await their fate. And their fate, as indeed 
 almost everything else now, was to depend upon that 
 sejf -constituted body that had sprung up in a night,
 
 300 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 the Revolutionary Commune. Not content with its 
 usurpation of Paris, that wholly illegal organization 
 was setting out by sheer daring and the support of 
 the mob to rule France. 
 
 Soon the men behind the movement came for- 
 ward, and there at the head of this Commune stood 
 Danton, Robespierre, and Marat. While the king 
 was still in refuge with the Assembly, the Commune 
 demanded that he be deposed. The helpless As- 
 sembly temporized, and perhaps saved something of 
 its dignity by merely suspending the pitiful, un- 
 kingly ruler cooped up in the little back room. But 
 that availed Louis nothing. The Commune obtained 
 custody of him and his family, and imprisoned them 
 in a gloomy medieval fortress in Paris, called the 
 Temple. Virtually Louis XVI had ceased to be. 
 And even plain Louis Capet, which was about all he 
 was now, would issue from this prison only to go 
 to his death. 
 
 With the king disposed of, and the constitutional 
 monarchy paralyzed, the Commune grew yet bolder. 
 Quite under its dictation, the Assembly now issued 
 a call for the necessary National Convention to 
 form a new government, and also appointed a tem- 
 porary executive council headed by Danton. From 
 now on, through the days pending the assembling of 
 the Convention, the Revolutionary Commune ruled 
 France. 
 
 It turned its attention to Lafayette. The general,
 
 STORMING THE TUILERIES 301 
 
 though he had lost favor with the Paris populace, 
 had still so much influence, especially with the army, 
 that the Commune sought in every way to win his 
 support. Failing in that, it caused the Assembly 
 to declare him a traitor. Soon commissioners ar- 
 rived at his camp with his dismissal from command. 
 Lafayette had to act quickly. For him and his staff 
 officers, who also had incurred the enmity of the 
 Commune, instant flight was the only salvation from 
 the guillotine. They crossed the frontier into Bel- 
 gium. And in that crossing, in the darkness of 
 night, August 19, 1792, the world lost sight of a 
 man who long had filled the public eye. He fell at 
 once into the hands of the enemy ; and for years to 
 come, in one prison or another, much of the time 
 no one knew where, he was dead to the world. 
 
 News of Lafayette's escape from France, but not 
 of his capture by the enemy, soon reached Chava- 
 niac. The heart of the little marquise, who daily had 
 been expecting his death at the hands of the 
 Jacobins, was lightened, although Jacobin malignity 
 was now turned upon the Chavaniac household. 
 Indeed, from now on the cruel treatment of this 
 family gives a very good idea of the persecution of 
 the nobility all over France. Expecting the chateau 
 to be pillaged, Madame de Lafayette saw to it that 
 private papers were burned and valuables hidden. 
 She had the American sword of honor buried on 
 the estate. Little George Washington knew where,
 
 302 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 and fortunately was to remember. The family was 
 soon reduced to distress. Their securities were re- 
 fused and their property put up for sale. 
 
 By the end of August the victorious allies were 
 advancing into the interior of France, and Paris 
 was becoming panic-stricken. The Commune made 
 the most of the alarm. By its orders about three 
 thousand persons accused of being in sympathy with 
 the invaders, were arrested and imprisoned. Then 
 the Commune, through Marat, raised the cry that 
 these royalist prisoners might break out and mur- 
 der the wives and children of soldiers fighting at 
 the front. It was a slim pretext for a barbarous 
 act that was being planned. But it answered. Paris 
 joined in the blood-cry of Marat, and by September 
 2 the Commune was ready to strike. 
 
 Again the tocsin, again the swelling ominous roar 
 in the narrow streets, again the mob. This time 
 it surged toward the prisons. Bands of hired lead- 
 ers were at the head, who broke down prison doors, 
 formed hideous mock trial courts, butchered the 
 helpless royalists and many non-juring priests, and 
 threw their bodies to the waiting crowd. Ghastly 
 processions moved through the streets bearing the 
 heads of victims on pikes. For several days, among 
 the most terrible days of history, the killing went 
 on. 
 
 There was one place of comparative safety in that 
 murder-mad city, the American Embassy in the Fau-
 
 STORMING THE TUILERIES 303 
 
 bourg St. Germain. It was vain to seek sanctuary 
 at the other embassies, for they were closed. 
 Gouverneur Morris, now the American minister, 
 was the only foreign representative remaining at his 
 post. And Paris would have been amazed to know 
 what this stout-hearted, quick-witted minister pleni- 
 potentiary was protecting. Once Paris tried to learn, 
 officials visiting the embassy to search it ; but Morris 
 successfully opposed them. So Paris did not know 
 that the American Embassy held a number of 
 refugee French nobles, and also a very large sum of 
 the royal funds confided to Morris's care by the king. 
 
 The mania for murder spread from Paris over 
 all France, and atrocities of every sort added to 
 the horror of the "September Massacres." Under 
 such conditions were the elections being held for 
 the National Convention. 
 
 It was just after those days of butchery that an 
 officer with a body of soldiers came up the rocky 
 road to Chavaniac. Madame de Lafayette under- 
 stood, and her first thought was for her children. 
 Young George Washington she had already placed 
 in hiding in the mountains, and now little Virginia 
 was hastily concealed in a deep fireplace. Anastasia 
 insisted upon staying with her mother. Soon the 
 mother was under arrest, and with her daughter 
 started under guard for Paris. But the spirited 
 Adrienne so bravely denounced the design of send- 
 ing them at a time when they were bound to be
 
 304 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 murdered on the way that the journey was stayed, 
 and in the end the order for her arrest was re- 
 pealed. They returned to Chavaniac, but the little 
 marquise came saddened with the information she 
 had got while away that Lafayette was in a Prussian 
 prison. 
 
 In that September the allies were steadily near ing 
 Paris, and by the middle of the month little hope 
 remained of saving the capital. Then suddenly the 
 tide of conflict turned. On the twentieth the invad- 
 ing army was checked at Valmy, and it soon started 
 upon a retreat which was to carry it back out of 
 France.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 
 
 ON September 20, 1792, as the battle of Valmy 
 was being fought, the National Convention 
 met in Paris. Its membership was largely the same 
 as that of the recent Legislative Assembly, but with 
 a stronger republican element, there being gains 
 for both the Gironde and the Mountain. Promptly 
 the Convention proceeded to create still another 
 new government for France. It did this in a round- 
 about way, and not even a proclamation of change 
 was made, and yet under its decrees a monarchy fell 
 and a republic arose. A committee was at once ap- 
 pointed to draw up a constitution for the "French 
 Republic." 
 
 However, the work of the Convention was hin- 
 dered by struggle for party control. The republicans 
 had won, but which republicans ? Was the Gironde 
 or was the Mountain to control and to shape the 
 new republic? The Gironde was for a decentralized 
 government, each department of France to have a 
 considerable degree of independence; the Mountain 
 was for a strongly centralized government, largely 
 dominated by Paris. With these two parties ar- 
 
 305
 
 306 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 rayed against each other, and between them a rather 
 bewildered body of neutrals voting now one way 
 and now the other, the Convention went on with its 
 labors. 
 
 Every question that arose was embittered by the 
 animosity of party spirit. The most important of 
 these questions, of course, was as to what to do with 
 Citizen Louis Capet, ex-king of France. In the 
 end he was given a trial, though it was a farce, and 
 he was condemned to death. Even then it seemed 
 that the thing could not be, and attempts were made 
 to stay the execution, but they failed. 
 
 In the dawn of Sunday, January 21, 1793, Paris 
 lay dull, damp, and chill. After a while drums 
 began to beat in every quarter, as though to stir the 
 city to the deed that was to be done that day. In a 
 prison room in the Tower the descendant of a 
 hundred kings was quietly preparing for his part. 
 A weeping valet was aiding him to dress. Slowly 
 Louis drew a ring from his finger, his wedding- 
 ring, and placed it upon a mantel-shelf. "Give it 
 to the queen," he said, "and tell her that I parted 
 from it with pain, and not until the last moment." 
 Now he received the sacrament, and with his faith- 
 ful confessor at his side he was ready. The heavy- 
 footed guards closed about, and the little procession 
 went down the long stone steps to the misty court, 
 which echoed with the tramp of horses and of 
 marching men. There a carriage waited. For a
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 307 
 
 moment Louis stood there, looking back at the 
 Temple. He had sought to save his wife and chil- 
 dren the agony of a last parting, and his promise to 
 see them again had not been kept. 
 
 Trumpets and drums proclaimed the passage of 
 the king's carriage through the streets. But those 
 streets save for soldiers were almost empty; their 
 houses, too, stood with vacant windows, blind as 
 never before to the king's passing. The people had 
 hurried ahead for the greater spectacle that he was 
 to afford that day. In the immense square of the 
 Place Louis XV was a multitude. A rough, high 
 structure was in the midst, the new instrument of 
 death, the guillotine, surrounded by soldiers and 
 cannon. To the roll of hundreds of drums (that 
 any words of compassion might die unheard) came 
 the king* s carriage, Louis sitting in simple dignity, 
 and unafraid. The carriage stopped. The king 
 stepped out. Three executioners came forward to 
 prepare him for the scaffold. But he haughtily 
 stayed them, and himself took off his brown coat 
 and his white waistcoat, and bared his neck. His 
 hands were then bound. He went steadily up the 
 steps of the scaffold. He started to speak to the 
 sea of people, but there was a signal from a leader 
 on horseback and the words were drowned in a 
 furious crash and roll of drums. Now the king 
 was seized and bound upon the plank. To the still 
 deafening roar of the drums the great blade fell.
 
 3o8 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 There was a big, ill- featured man who was well 
 pleased that day, Danton. Casting his boar-like 
 eyes in the direction of the invading armies, he 
 exclaimed, "We have flung them the gage of battle 
 in a king's head!" He little knew to what degree 
 the challenge was to be accepted. Ever since Valmy 
 the French arms had been successful. The flag of 
 the republic had been carried eastward to the Rhine, 
 and northward far into the Austrian Netherlands. 
 Now, almost as though in response to Danton's 
 defiance, the allies stiffened, regained the offensive, 
 and soon subjected the French to defeat and retreat. 
 But that was not all. The real, the literal response 
 to that gage of "a king's head" was the sudden 
 reinforcement of Austria and Prussia by England, 
 Holland, Spain, and other nations. Indeed, the 
 death of Louis proved the signal for a coalition of 
 all Europe against France. 
 
 By March, 1793, the allied armies were in the 
 field. To meet such an array of enemies France 
 could not even present a united people. Every- 
 where faction against faction; royalism against 
 republicanism; and, at this critical moment, came 
 the actual armed uprising of one large department 
 against the republic. The Gironde, well-meaning 
 but weak, could not meet the crisis, and the Moun- 
 tain, less scrupulous, more vigorous, steadily gained 
 control in the Convention. 
 
 As necessary war measures it secured the creation
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 309 
 
 of two extraordinary bodies, one called the Revo- 
 lutionary Tribunal and the other the Committee of 
 Public Safety. The Revolutionary Tribunal was a 
 high criminal court that was to judge "traitors, 
 conspirators, and anti-revolutionists." Its judg- 
 ments were to be final. The Committee of Public 
 Safety was a sort of executive cabinet composed 
 of a few members of the Convention. It was to 
 act secretly, and to have some almost despotic 
 powers in administration and the conduct of the 
 war. 
 
 In vain did the Gironde declare that such ex- 
 traordinary bodies established "a new despotism 
 worse than the old." It had to accept them, and 
 to see the Mountain in full control of both. Indeed, 
 the days of the Gironde's influence in forming and 
 protecting the new government were about over. 
 The Commune and the mob joined in the attack 
 upon it; and, on June 2, 1793, with the aid of an 
 armed rabble outside, the Mountain expelled the 
 Gironde leaders from the Convention. 
 
 With that lawless act was laid the ground for a 
 new and appalling phase of the Revolution, the 
 Reign of Terror. The Mountain was now in com- 
 plete control of the Government, and the situation 
 it had to face was a desperate one. France, attacked 
 by all Europe, and needing her united strength for 
 defense, was day by day becoming more divided 
 against herself. New departments were rising in
 
 3iQ SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 insurrection, and soon a civil war was raging more 
 fiercely than the foreign one. Even where there was 
 no insurrection most of the better class of people 
 were bitterly opposed to the Mountain. 
 
 In such circumstances that party now organized 
 a government more despotic, more tyrannical than 
 the Bourbon monarchy had ever been. It adopted 
 a policy simple and awful, the maintenance of its 
 own supremacy by terror. There is no telling how 
 much such a course was taken for this party's evil, 
 vengeful ends, and how much for the purpose of 
 forcibly uniting France against her enemies. It is 
 often said that by maintaining a strong central 
 government the Terror saved France. But nothing 
 to be said can lessen the stigma history has placed 
 upon the authors of it. 
 
 The Mountain had already at hand its enginery 
 of absolutism and terrorism in that despotic body, 
 the Committee of Public Safety, with its servile 
 supporter, the Revolutionary Tribunal. At this 
 time the Convention changed its place of sitting, 
 establishing itself in the Tuileries, the committee 
 occupying the former royal apartments. There, 
 gathered around a green table, that handful of men 
 proceeded to spread a net of surveillance over all 
 France. Its meshes reached into every nook and 
 corner, ready to close upon any man even suspected 
 of opposing the Government. And suspicions were 
 ever ready, and the Revolutionary Tribunal was
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 311 
 
 kept busy. Its methods were summary; its deci- 
 sions, usually against the prisoners, were final; and 
 its sentences always of death. 
 
 One of the early victims in that summer of 1793 
 was a young girl, Charlotte Corday, who stabbed 
 to death that fiercest of the terrorists, Marat. Some 
 weeks later, on an October morning, a common cart 
 containing another woman approached the guillotine 
 through a frenzied, almost uncontrollable mob. The 
 woman was in a plain prison dress, her hair cut off, 
 her hands bound behind her, and an executioner was 
 holding the rope. Little remained except proud 
 dignity to mark this for Marie Antoinette. She 
 gave no heed to the rain of curses from every side, 
 and calmly mounted the scaffold, which still stood 
 on the Place Louis XV, just west of the Tuileries. 
 But, standing there, she looked for a moment out 
 over the crowd in the direction of her old palace 
 home; and those near saw her face whiten and 
 quiver as her gaze turned toward the little dauphin's 
 garden. Then quietly and bravely she met her 
 death. 
 
 So far-reaching and relentless was the work of 
 spies and persecutors under the Committee of 
 Public Safety that the prisons filled with "suspects," 
 and their trial required many additional revolu- 
 tionary tribunals to be instituted all over France. 
 Soon traveling courts, each carrying its own guil- 
 lotine, went up and down the country.
 
 312 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Toward the close of 1793 Madame de Lafayette 
 was again arrested, and after some delay was car- 
 ried to Paris. There was usually but one end to 
 such a journey. She entered the capital like many 
 another member of the nobility in those days, in a 
 common chaise, and surrounded by an insulting 
 mob. How different a city from the Paris she had 
 left, that joyous Paris celebrating the adoption of 
 the constitution, and the "end of the Revolution" ! 
 Now, as she was driven through the streets, they 
 were, except for the lawless rabble, almost deserted. 
 The taint of the guillotine with its cesspool of blood 
 was in the air. Everywhere was desolation, as of 
 a plague-stricken city. The prison was reached; 
 and as the little marquise entered she knew she was 
 but the last of her family to pass through such 
 doors. Already her grandmother, her mother, her 
 oldest sister, her uncle, and her aunt were awaiting 
 their turn at the guillotine, and they had not much 
 longer to wait. 
 
 But America was to speak and promptly for the 
 wife of Lafayette. Gouverneur Morris, fearing the 
 worst, wrote plainly but tactfully to the authorities 
 in her behalf, dwelling upon the significant fact, "the 
 family of Lafayette is beloved in America." No 
 reply came, but as time passed without her name 
 appearing among those called to the guillotine, he 
 felt there was hope. 
 
 By the latter part of 1793 the Committee of
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 313 
 
 Public Safety had the conduct of the war well in 
 hand. It decreed military measures that only such 
 a body of terrorists could have enforced. The result 
 was that France now had in the field fourteen armies 
 containing a million men; and all the rest of the 
 people, down to the small children, were engaged, 
 fear-driven, in supporting and equipping this im- 
 mense soldiery. Terror was kept at its height, and 
 even lukewarmness in the work might lead to 
 the guillotine. Scores perished daily. 
 
 And the Terror marched with the armies, too. 
 With each went two members of the Convention, 
 called "deputies on mission," to see that the com- 
 manding general won victories or that his head paid 
 the forfeit. A barbarous form of incentive, but 
 tremendously effective. The armies of the republic 
 made almost superhuman efforts. Against both the 
 allies and the insurrectionists they were successful. 
 
 The opening of the year 1 794 found France freed 
 from invasion, and the uprisings in the provinces 
 virtually suppressed. While the victorious repub- 
 lican armies marched on to carry the war into the 
 enemies' countries, the Committee of Public Safety 
 proceeded to carry terror into the recently revolted 
 provinces. Hundreds of persons were guillotined, 
 but that process proved too slow. In some places 
 the accused, with or without trial, were mowed 
 down in batches by cannon or musketry, or were 
 loaded into boats and drowned.
 
 314 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 With their triumph over their enemies, the Con- 
 vention and the committee turned their attention 
 more to the general internal affairs of the republic. 
 Their economic policy was distinctly socialistic. It 
 manifested itself in naive attempts to equalize the 
 distribution of wealth. Everything that savored of 
 the ancien regime was intolerable ; even the calendar 
 had to go. A new era was declared, dating from 
 the birth of the republic; so this forepart of 1794 
 was by their reckoning the Year II. 
 
 An attempt was made, more by the Commune 
 than by the Convention, to abolish Christianity, and 
 to substitute a new religion called the Worship of 
 Reason. Over all these civil relations also hung the 
 scourge of the Terror. For so slight a misstep 
 branded a man a "suspect," and in the simple affairs 
 of daily life people walked in the shadow of the 
 guillotine. Intimate friends kept apart, fearing to 
 bring suspicion upon one another by word or look. 
 Many people lived hidden in cellars or in abandoned 
 houses. Parents hushed their children at sound of 
 heavy footfalls without, and trembled at a knocking 
 on the door. When the tread of the "commissaries" 
 stopped at a house, no neighbor peered out, and no 
 matter what the cries or struggles no one offered 
 help or sympathy. Through streets of houses so 
 quiet they seemed deserted the rabble bore heads on 
 pikes, and the death-cart passed. 
 
 But now began an inevitable reaction. With the
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 315 
 
 bettered military conditions there sprang up, even 
 among some of the supporters of the Terror, a 
 feeling that the time had come for its moderation. 
 Danton himself, arch-terrorist from the beginning, 
 now led in a movement for return to normal govern- 
 ment. At once the Committee of Public Safety, 
 and especially its leader, Robespierre, resolved to 
 crush this movement and Danton with it. It was a 
 struggle of the giants. But the great enginery of 
 destruction, against which no man could stand, was 
 in the hands of the committee, and on April 5, 1794, 
 Danton, the most powerful figure of the Revolution, 
 perished on the guillotine. 
 
 The fall of Danton left Robespierre supreme. 
 Head of the Committee of Public Safety, controller 
 of the Commune, idol of the populace, he became 
 virtually dictator of France. Whether this man 
 was a savage or a fanatic or both, matters little. 
 He was of that make-up that enabled him to provide 
 the people of France with a new religion on one 
 day, and with a shorter route to the guillotine on 
 the next. Much troubled over the recent establish- 
 ment of the Worship of Reason, Robespierre caused 
 the Convention to abolish it, and to substitute what 
 he called the Cult of the Supreme Being. On June 
 8, 1794, the new religion was solemnly inaugurated 
 in the Champ de Mars. For one day the guillotine 
 rested. Robespierre appeared as something of a 
 high priest amidst much chanting and strewing of
 
 316 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 flowers, a little spectacled lawyer in a sky-blue 
 coat, and possessing more autocratic power at that 
 moment than any monarch of Europe. 
 
 Close after this religious demonstration came an 
 infamous decree of the Convention, at the instance 
 of the dictator. It broke down the last restraints 
 upon government by terror. It defined new and 
 unheard of crimes, making them punishable by 
 death; did away with counsel for the accused, and 
 often with witnesses; and vastly enlarged the al- 
 ready murderous powers of the Revolutionary 
 Tribunal. Under such a law no man's head was safe 
 upon his body if Robespierre preferred it in the 
 basket of the guillotine. 
 
 And now the Terror grew into the "Great Ter- 
 ror." Spies were everywhere, arrests constant, 
 prisons overflowing, and the guillotine claiming in 
 Paris alone, over a score a day. Dread lay upon 
 the city. The old-time gay cafes were hushed; the 
 streets quiet. People said little that was safest. 
 Even in the Convention, even in the Committee of 
 Public Safety that was safest. Indeed, terror had 
 now turned upon the terrorists. In all France no 
 one more feared Robespierre than did these fellow- 
 members of the great committee, these men who had 
 sent thousands to the guillotine, and thought them- 
 selves safe. Gathered about the green table, they 
 nervously watched every movement of that cold, 
 precise little man in the big spectacles ; and, did they
 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 317 
 
 but know it, the dim eyes behind those spectacles 
 were just as nervously watching them. All about 
 that green table, suspicion, fear, plotting. All knew 
 that the strain could not go on, that the guillotine 
 must decide amongst them. 
 
 The break in the tension came in the hot afternoon 
 of July 27, 1794, and upon the floor of the Conven- 
 tion. Robespierre had sought to strike first, by 
 securing decrees against some of his fellow-com- 
 mitteemen. But they had craftily undermined him. 
 When he attempted to speak, he was amazed at the 
 cry, "Down with the tyrant!" Then all was con- 
 fusion and struggle, lasting for several hours. 
 Robespierre's voice failed him. They said it was 
 Danton's blood choking him. In the end the Con- 
 vention was carried for his arrest. But that night, 
 in wind and rain, the Commune rallied its forces 
 to the support of the fallen dictator, released him 
 from prison, and carried him to the Hotel de Ville. 
 Had Robespierre promptly signed a call of the peo- 
 ple to arms that his friends laid before him, he 
 might have been saved. But he refused. Troops 
 of the Convention surrounded the Hotel de Ville. 
 
 At the last moment Robespierre started to sign 
 the call to arms. It was too late. The soldiers 
 burst into the room, he was shot in the face, and 
 
 the signature stood, "Ro " and a splash of 
 
 blood. 
 
 Though the wound was not serious, the man
 
 3i8 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 could not speak. But just before going to the guillo- 
 tine, on July 28, he asked by signs for writing- 
 materials. His request was denied. There has 
 always been a feeling that both he and France were 
 wronged by that denial, that the fallen dictator took 
 an important secret with him out of the world.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 END OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 THE death of Robespierre that midsummer day 
 of 1794 marked a sharp turning-point in the 
 French Revolution. The Reign of Terror ended 
 as his head fell. France took a long breath of re- 
 lief. But she was left confused and unsteady. A 
 strong guiding hand had suddenly been caught 
 away, and there was nothing at the moment to take 
 its place. In the Convention, though an overwhelm- 
 ing majority was now openly against the Mountain 
 and for return to regular government, yet it lacked 
 leaders and had no real working policy to go ahead 
 on. Fpr a while France drifted. 
 
 However, she cleaned house as well as she could 
 after the awful time of turbulence and violence. 
 And perhaps in this the Convention majority 
 showed a quality more valuable at such a moment 
 than the most brilliant party policy would have 
 been, a surprising moderation. While the odious 
 laws and machinery of terrorism were swept away, 
 yet vengeance did not play a great part, and the 
 leaders of the Convention sought peace and con- 
 ciliation. The Committee of Public Safety, the 
 
 319
 
 320 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Revolutionary Tribunal, and the Paris Commune 
 were all reorganized, and, as agencies of terror, 
 suppressed. The evil Jacobin Club was dissolved. 
 The National Guards were almost recreated, being 
 cleared of the mob element, and made again a 
 middle-class body. The prison doors were thrown 
 open, and thousands of "suspects," fearfully await- 
 ing their turn to go to the guillotine, were suddenly 
 amazed and bewildered to find themselves free. 
 
 But among them was not the wife of Lafayette. 
 She had, doubtless through the intercession of Mor- 
 ris, escaped the guillotine, but even the present 
 republican leaders were not willing to grant her 
 freedom. In this summer of 1794 Morris was 
 succeeded as American Minister by James Mon- 
 roe, later to become president of the United States. 
 Both Monroe and Mrs. Monroe continued to throw 
 about Madame de Lafayette the protection of all the 
 American influence they could safely invoke. And 
 through them, as earlier through Morris, American 
 money found its way to her, some of it a personal 
 gift from George Washington. 
 
 At length, with the opening of 1795, her release 
 was obtained, largely through the efforts of Monroe. 
 From now on at every turn it seemed American aid 
 that made things possible for this distressed little 
 daughter of the French noblesse. While she had 
 been in prison, Chavaniac, the birthplace of Lafay- 
 ette and in whose soil lay buried his American
 
 END OF THE REVOLUTION 321 
 
 honor sword, had been confiscated by the republic 
 and sold over her children's heads. Now American 
 money helped to buy it back. Madame de Lafayette 
 had her plans for the future all ready. With her 
 two daughters she would go to seek her husband 
 and to share his imprisonment. She would not dare 
 to take her son, little George Washington, into the 
 hands of his father's captors, so she decided to send 
 him, accompanied by his tutor, to his great name- 
 sake in America. 
 
 But how were any of them to get out of France? 
 Even if a Lafayette could get a passport, the old 
 Jacobin feeling against everybody of that name 
 would make travel under it dangerous. Again the 
 land that owed much to the husband of this troubled 
 woman had a chance to help. It was recalled that 
 the marquis had been made a citizen of some of the 
 American States. So now under the family name 
 of Motier, and as citizens of Hartford, Connecticut, 
 Lafayette's family secured passports under which 
 they could travel. The mother's greatest trial was 
 the separation from her son, George Washington, 
 now fourteen years old, and over whom, as heir of 
 the Lafayettes, dangers still hung. But at length 
 partings were over, and in their different directions 
 went these members of the oldest nobility of France, 
 furtively traveling as unknown citizens of Hartford, 
 Connecticut. 
 
 All the preparations of the Lafayettes for their
 
 322 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 departure had been interrupted and delayed by the 
 unsettled state of France, especially Paris. What- 
 ever moderation after the Terror was shown by the 
 Convention, its example was not being followed by 
 the people. Intense hostility broke out everywhere 
 against all who had furthered those days of horror. 
 Well-to-do bourgeoisie and "aristocrats" whom the 
 Jacobins had persecuted, now turned the tables, 
 many of them appearing in the streets with clubs 
 that frequently found their way to Jacobin skulls. 
 Even royalists who had been in hiding from the 
 guillotine now came forth and joined in the war 
 upon terrorists. 
 
 It was inevitable that this bitter hostility among 
 the people should make trouble for the Convention 
 which was trying to govern so divided a France. 
 On the one hand, the harried Jacobins, who were 
 still by no means powerless, were preparing the 
 most desperate means to regain control of the Gov- 
 ernment ; on the other hand, the royalists saw their 
 opportunity in this widespread reaction against 
 terror under the republic, and they were bending 
 every energy to sweep it into a movement for a re- 
 turn to the monarchy. The Convention consistently 
 sought to hold down both these extreme elements, 
 and to preserve the young republic from both ter- 
 rorism and royalism. 
 
 As the year 1795 opened, the Jacobins were es- 
 pecially active. They resorted to their old tactics
 
 END OF THE REVOLUTION 323 
 
 of using the mob, and precipitated serious attacks 
 upon the Convention. There were the old time 
 scenes : the fierce howling rabble, the brandished 
 pikes, the lawgivers bearded in their hall. But now 
 a new element entered in. Now the soldiery, instead 
 of fraternizing with the mob, was on the side of the 
 Government, and the lawless attacks were quickly 
 suppressed. The idle guillotine was put to work 
 again for a little while, and a number of the insur- 
 rectionary leaders perished. 
 
 But the Convention had no sooner mastered the 
 Jacobins than it had to face serious demonstrations 
 on the part of the royalists. In some parts of 
 France they fanned the spirit of vengeance against 
 the former terrorists until no Jacobin was safe. 
 Aided by many of the bourgeoisie they inaugurated, 
 particularly in southern France, a new reign of 
 violence called the "White Terror." For a while 
 there was great slaughter and all the barbarities of 
 the "September Massacres," but with the former 
 butchers now the victims. 
 
 Royalist thoughts turned more and more to that 
 boy prisoner in the Temple, whom they considered 
 as Louis XVII. Was not the time ripe for a great 
 uprising that would crush the republic, restore the 
 monarchy, and place this son of the Bourbons on 
 the throne? Such a project was not visionary. It 
 might well have succeeded but for one thing, a 
 thing so inhuman as to be almost unbelievable even
 
 324 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 in that reign of inhumanity, the French Revolution. 
 Those royalists were thinking of the bright, beauti- 
 ful dauphin who had been consigned to the Temple 
 with his royal parents, too sturdy a little fellow to 
 have been seriously affected by his long imprison- 
 ment. They did not know that for a good while 
 the leaders of the republic had been purposely, 
 systematically killing their "little king." 
 
 It all began some time before the execution of 
 Marie Antoinette. One tragic night in the gloomy 
 prison they took the boy away from her. "Austrian 
 tigress" she surely was that night, but vainly. The 
 child was put under a low, brutal keeper in another 
 part of the prison. One after another the essentials 
 of comfort, of decency, were denied him. He was 
 finally put in a miserable room, without light or 
 ventilation; its iron-barred door was locked and 
 sealed. Child of sunshine and royal gardens, of 
 tender nurture and care, of bright, sensitive mind 
 and passionately loving heart, caged like a wild 
 animal alone in the quiet and the dark. For months 
 no one even entered that cell either to care for him 
 . or for it. They had no care. Coarse, dirty food 
 was shoved through a grating in the door by at- 
 tendants who were forbidden to speak; forbidden 
 even to reply should a little timid voice come out 
 from that stagnant foulness and darkness. 
 
 It was only now, since the Terror, that the barred 
 and sealed door of that awful room was opened.
 
 THE TEMPLE 
 From an old print
 
 END OF THE REVOLUTION 325 
 
 And what came out? A loathsome, misshapen 
 little creature, nearly naked, covered with sores and 
 vermin, shivering with terror, almost speechless, 
 this the sturdy, vivid little Dauphin, "born gay." 
 He begged to see his mother, whom he supposed still 
 a prisoner somewhere in the Temple. They did not 
 tell him. Even now there was no intention of 
 saving the boy, were saving possible. Heir to the 
 throne of France, he was in the way of the republic. 
 New keepers were appointed for him and better 
 surroundings, but medical aid was denied until the 
 republic knew that physicians could serve but to cer- 
 tify the inevitable end. 
 
 In the meantime the new attendants gave the 
 scant care that they dared, the child at first afraid 
 of their kindness. His happiness over four little 
 pots of flowers brought the first tears to his eyes. 
 They talked to him of his garden at the Tuileries 
 and of his command of the Royal Dauphin regi- 
 ment. The dimmed eyes brightened. "Did you 
 see me?" he asked eagerly. "Did you see me with 
 my sword?" But soon even memories could not 
 cheer. The boy was very ill. The hideous darkened 
 room had done its work. With his failing strength 
 he called for his mother. Mercifully now they did 
 not tell him. On the afternoon of Monday, June 
 8, i?95> whatever of menace to the great French 
 Republic lay in a twisted, rickety little sufferer in 
 the Temple, came to an end. But upon that repub-
 
 326 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 lie was fixed almost the blackest stain that history 
 knows of political crime. 
 
 There was open elation shown by the republicans 
 upon the news of the death in the Temple. To the 
 royalists it came as a hard blow. But the Comte 
 de Provence, brother of Louis XVI, succeeded as 
 claimant to the French throne, and the projects for 
 restoring the monarchy went on. That summer the 
 royalists were aided by an expedition from England 
 including many French emigres. It was a brave 
 showing of tall ships that approached the French 
 coast and sailed into Quiberon Bay. The forces 
 were landed on a sandy point not far from where, 
 so long before, Franklin had landed one winter 
 night. There was good prospect of success. That 
 coastal country was already disaffected toward the 
 republic, and now peasants came to join the royal 
 standard. But a republican army under Hoche 
 came also. Came in the night, in a wild storm, 
 gaining the sandy point by wading deep through the 
 roaring Quiberon waters. They drove the royal- 
 ists before them. Some escaped to the ships, some 
 perished in the sea, but most were taken prisoners. 
 
 The republic was master on the soil of France. 
 It was master also in the foreign theaters of war, 
 the French armies still sweeping all before them in 
 their invasion of the allied countries. Indeed, the 
 allied countries were beginning to give up the fight. 
 A little while ago, Prussia and Holland, and now
 
 END OF THE REVOLUTION 327 
 
 Spain sued for peace and quit. By August, 1795, 
 England and Austria were about all that were left 
 of the huge European coalition against France. 
 
 So, pretty much at ease, the Convention at last 
 turned seriously to a business it long had been neg- 
 lecting. Though this body, upon first convening, 
 had created the republic, yet, on account of the 
 troublous times, the constitution it provided had 
 never been put in force. Now the Convention de- 
 termined to provide a new one. The result of its 
 labors was an improvement upon the earlier efforts 
 of France in this direction. A lesson was drawn 
 from America, and the legislature made to consist 
 of two branches. The executive power was to be 
 exercised by a Directory consisting of five members. 
 
 While this constitution breathed all the spirit of 
 liberty that the Revolution stood for, there was a 
 marked lessening of the old emphasis upon equality. 
 Even the franchise was withdrawn from the work- 
 ing classes. Altogether this new attempt at an 
 organic law was too aristocratic to please the radi- 
 cal republicans, and of course, far too democratic 
 to please the royalists. But by this time everybody 
 wanted to get rid of the Convention and to get 
 settled under regular government, so the proposed 
 constitution was generally favored. 
 
 What made trouble was the Convention's sud- 
 denly added provisions that two thirds of the legis- 
 lature must be taken from its own membership.
 
 328 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 So the Convention was perpetuating itself after all. 
 This aroused opposition throughout France, even 
 threatened violence in Paris; and yet, upon sub- 
 mission to the people, the constitution was ac- 
 cepted. At this, Palis went into a fury. The 
 royalists were not slow to make the most of the 
 situation. Feelings anti-Convention were easily 
 fanned into feelings anti-republic. By October 4, 
 a formidable force of royalists and bourgeoisie was 
 ready to rise against the Convention. That night 
 was one of violent storm. But Paris streets were 
 full. In and out of coffee-houses and theaters men 
 marched crying, "Down with the two thirds!" 
 
 A little man came out of one of the cheap theaters 
 and looked about. He was the same little sallow- 
 faced man that had watched the storming of the 
 Tuileries three years before and had criticized the 
 weak resistance Louis XVI had made. The name 
 Napoleon Bonaparte was somewhat better known 
 now, but not much. The five-foot-two figure in 
 the uniform of an officer of artillery looked in- 
 significant enough. He had been out of the service 
 for some time and was poor and needy, and prob- 
 ably at the moment hungry. His uniform showed 
 for wear and his boot tops flapped about his thin 
 legs. But then, it is hard to keep smartness in a 
 uniform with empty pockets, and to fill boot tops 
 with shapely legs on one meal a day. Bonaparte 
 looked about upon hurrying angry crowds, listened
 
 END OF THE REVOLUTION 329 
 
 to a parley going on near him, and started off in 
 wind and rain for the Tuileries. With all his 
 strange prescience he did not see that he was walking 
 straight into the opening of his career. 
 
 In the meantime, in the palace, the Convention 
 was waiting in trepidation. It had done all it could. 
 It had available for defense some eight thousand 
 men under one of its members, Barras. But Bar- 
 ras could not find a certain man he wanted to have 
 take the immediate command, "A little Corsican 
 officer who will not stop on ceremony." After 
 diligent search had failed, the "little Corsican 
 officer" walked into the palace. 
 
 In the presence of the smart officers gathered 
 there he looked less than ever like the man for the 
 occasion, so hopelessly unmilitary. The cocked 
 hat which topped the small figure had a badly ad- 
 justed feather limp from the rain, the tricolored 
 scarf was poorly tied, the sword carelessly worn. 
 Even the face, later to become impressively statu- 
 esque, was only pinched and sallow under the lank 
 wet hair. But within half an hour, officers at the 
 palace who had exclaimed, "Bonaparte! Who is 
 Bonaparte?" had found out. They were no longer 
 smiling at the little officer's sash knot, or at his in- 
 adequate legs. They were too busy taking his 
 orders that came quick, laconic, sharply imperative. 
 Cannon were got from every available source, and
 
 330 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 strong outposts established. Even the members of 
 the Convention found arms in their hands. 
 
 By morning the palace was a fortress. And by 
 morning it needed to be. The military force of the 
 insurgents, now including about thirty thousand 
 National Guards, came marching upon the Tuiler- 
 ies along both sides of the Seine. They were al- 
 lowed to approach unmolested. There was much 
 valiant shouting, but a sudden halt at sight of Bona- 
 parte's defenses. Hours passed, and not a move- 
 ment was made upon either side. It was along in 
 the afternoon when there came a musket shot from 
 somewhere, and the insurgents charged. It was a 
 brave but hopeless attack. Instantly Napoleon's 
 cannon loaded with grapeshot opened fire. Their 
 deadly work, followed by a charge by the palace 
 troops, completely dispersed the assailants. 
 
 The desperate insurrection, at bottom an attempt 
 to restore the Bourbon monarchy, had failed. The 
 republic still was master. Within a week elections 
 were held for the legislature under the new consti- 
 tution. Then, on October 26, 1795, the Conven- 
 tion declared its mission ended, and closed its 
 sittings. 
 
 Roughly, this date is a mile-stone in French 
 history. W r hile the period of revolutionary energy 
 in France is as hard to fix at its ending as at its 
 beginning, yet the date of the close of the Conven- 
 tion in 1795 is an accepted one as marking the end
 
 END OF THE REVOLUTION 331 
 
 of the French Revolution. In the next period, that 
 of the Directory, the revolutionary spirit with its 
 good and its evil waned. It was lost in social cor- 
 ruption, in the dry-rot of political leaders, and in 
 the turning of the nation from self-government to a 
 military despot, Napoleon Bonaparte. 
 
 But the great work of the Revolution was not 
 lost. While Napoleon had little sympathy with 
 what he regarded as the fanaticism of liberty, and 
 rather despised the multitude, yet all that was best 
 of revolutionary development found recognition 
 under his rule. Indeed, to this autocrat was 
 France indebted for the firm and enduring estab- 
 lishment of the principles of her Revolution.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 WITH Austria and France still at war, Vienna 
 as well as Paris seethed with excitement. 
 People talked feverishly, many of them too much. 
 Spies were everywhere. Strange meetings came 
 about in those troubled days. Perhaps no stranger 
 one than that of the two men sitting together in 
 one of the popular coffee-houses of Vienna on an 
 autumn afternoon. One was a slender, boyish fel- 
 low barely in his twenties; the other somewhat 
 older, but still in his young manhood, quick and 
 alert. They talked long but cautiously. A few 
 words of that talk would have set the rulers of 
 Europe by the ears. 
 
 The older man was a Hanoverian, named Boll- 
 man; a physician by profession, but with marked 
 leaning and aptitude for adventure. The story he 
 told his young chance acquaintance, after measur- 
 ing him keenly, was a strange one. Friends of La- 
 fayette, baffled in their attempts to solve the prison- 
 mystery of his whereabouts (if indeed he still lived) 
 had turned for aid to this Dr. Bollman. For a long 
 
 332
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 333 
 
 time now the young physician had been going up and 
 down middle Europe, posing as this and as that, 
 seeking some clue as to where Lafayette was buried 
 from the world. 
 
 Mystified and often hopeless, he had at length 
 picked up a clue that led him to the little Austrian 
 village of Olmutz, with its huge fortress, about one 
 hundred miles north of Vienna. There was village 
 gossip enough that some mysterious state prisoner 
 had been secretly brought to the ancient stronghold 
 and was being doubly guarded there. Bollman felt 
 that he had come to the end of his long search. But 
 how was he to make sure, let alone work Lafayette's 
 delivery? Out beyond the village, alone on a wide 
 treeless plain, stood the great Austrian fortress 
 like a prison-sphynx in the desert; and sphynx-like 
 it kept its secrets. 
 
 But Bollman matched his wits against massive 
 walls, and guards, and guns. A casual meeting 
 with the surgeon of the prison, pleasant professional 
 fraternizing, considerable wine, and then the 
 secret was out. Lafayette that is to say, a certain 
 numbered man who used to be known as Lafayette 
 was down in one of the dungeons of the fortress. 
 More professional fraternizing, more wine, and 
 a little lemon juice. The lemon juice was for secret 
 writing upon what appeared as innocent communi- 
 cations, often carried by the prison surgeon himself, 
 between the pleasant visiting doctor and the num-
 
 334 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 bered man in the dungeon. The communications 
 spoke of "warmth" or of "fire," and the numbered 
 man understood. The pieces of paper, once heated, 
 bore very different messages from the ones the sur- 
 geon had read, and soon a plan was worked out for 
 an attempt to free Lafayette. 
 
 Bollman could not manage the adventure alone. 
 So now here he was in a coffee-house in Vienna, 
 seeking a trusty confederate. And who was that 
 chance acquaintance, that young man sitting with 
 him, to whom the wary doctor was confiding his 
 story? The very name marks this a strange meet- 
 ing. Huger, he called himself, Francis Huger. 
 No other than the son of Major Huger of South 
 Carolina, at whose house Lafayette had landed 
 upon his first going to America. The young man 
 remembered his childish excitement and joy over 
 that romantic coming in the night of the elegant 
 French youth to fight for liberty. Young Huger 
 needed no persuasion to join Bollman in the attempt 
 to free that hero of his boyhood. 
 
 So one November evening there came to the 
 Golden Swan Inn at Olmutz two young horsemen 
 followed by their traveling carriage and servants. 
 To the curious of the village, Huger was a young 
 Englishman and Bollman his tutor. By the old 
 means Bollman communicated again with Lafayette. 
 The general had been ill and was now taken out for 
 a drive on certain days. In the morning of one of
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 335 
 
 those days the "Englishman" and his "tutor" paid 
 their bill at the Golden Swan Inn and sent their 
 carriage and servants on to the neighboring town of 
 Hoff. A little later in the day they ordered their 
 saddle-horses and leisurely followed. 
 
 At last the moment for their attempt had come. 
 There was but one thing lacking. They knew that 
 they needed another horse, but did not dare to take 
 one for fear of arousing suspicions. They had found 
 that one of their own mounts would carry double. 
 That must do. The plan was for the two horsemen 
 to meet the prison carriage on the road and to effect 
 the rescue ; then, after giving Lafayette one of their 
 horses, both Bollman and Huger were to mount the 
 other, and a dash was to be made for Hoff where 
 their traveling-carriage was waiting. 
 
 The plan did not look so feasible now that acting- 
 time had come. How bare the country was! 
 How the sleepless eyes of the fortress saw every- 
 thing for miles around ! Not a tree, not a bush to 
 afford a moment's hiding. And people everywhere. 
 Scattered over the dull plain they were drudging in 
 the soil ; along the dusty highway, for it was market- 
 day, they came driving in their bright dress and 
 their high carts. But Bollman and Huger rode on 
 undaunted by the odds. They must play the game 
 as they found it. 
 
 They were intent upon but two things now, the 
 expected meeting with the prison carriage, and the
 
 336 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 concerted signal by Lafayette. At length a phaeton 
 was approaching. Besides the driver, a private 
 soldier, and an officer, it contained a pale and ema- 
 ciated man. He wore a blue greatcoat. But the 
 important thing was that as the two horsemen went 
 by, he raised his hand and passed a white handker- 
 chief across his forehead. Bollman and Huger 
 bowed a faint recognition of the sign and passed 
 on. Their hearts were pounding. Lafayette out 
 in the open, and his fate depending upon them! 
 
 As soon as they dared they turned and slowly 
 followed the carriage. In a little while, it stopped. 
 Lafayette and the Austrian officer stepped out as 
 though for exercise for the prisoner, who leaned 
 heavily as he walked. Huger's eyes' were doubly 
 alert now, for at a distance Bollman saw poorly. 
 Suddenly another signal. Plain against the back 
 of the blue greatcoat, a handkerchief waving. The 
 two young men set spurs and came dashing up. 
 Lafayette seized the hilt of the officer's sword, but 
 could not wrest the weapon from him. Bollman 
 threw himself from his horse, which he left with 
 Huger, and joined in the struggle. The soldier in 
 the phaeton leaped out and ran shouting toward the 
 town, the driver sat still and crossed himself, the 
 peasants let the whole affair alone. 
 
 But the fortress, a mile or two away, had seen 
 all. The boom of its alarm guns rolled out over 
 the plain. Soldiers poured forth from the walls.
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 337 
 
 Rescue must be quick now or not at all. The 
 Austrian officer was gripping Lafayette so that it 
 took both Bollman and Huger to free him, and in 
 the struggle one of the horses broke loose and ran 
 off down the road. Lafayette, despite his protest, 
 was forced upon the remaining horse, and a purse 
 and a pistol thrust into his hands. He hesitated a 
 moment, saw the runaway horse caught, then set off . 
 at top speed. Bollman and Huger mounted to- 
 gether, and started to follow. The animal reared 
 and plunged. Fate had been against them: it was 
 the horse Lafayette was on that would carry double. 
 Soon both riders were in the ditch. 
 
 Then young Huger made his sacrifice. He per- 
 suaded Bollman that of the two of them, the doctor 
 could be of more service to Lafayette, and so in- 
 duced him to mount alone and ride on. Huger fol- 
 lowed, running, as well as he could. It was a short 
 shrift for him. The .soldiers closed about him, and 
 between rows of fixed bayonets he was marched to 
 the prison. Down in a. stone cell the young Ameri- 
 can became a number chained to a wall. 
 
 Days passed. Then the fortress looking out over 
 the treeless plain saw soldiers approaching with a 
 prisoner. A dungeon door closed upon Doctor 
 Bollman too, another number chained to a wall. 
 The grim fortress still watched. Again soldiers 
 approaching. Among them a tall, emaciated man in 
 a blue greatcoat. Lafayette had missed his way,
 
 338 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 and the brave dash for freedom had come to this! 
 
 A certain Russian nobleman who understood how 
 to use money in Austrian affairs interested himself 
 in Bollman and Huger, and after a while they were 
 released. Prison walls held Lafayette closer than 
 ever. No word possible now from the outside 
 world. More watchful than ever the hawk-like 
 eyes of the fortress swept to the horizon. But they 
 were not prepared for what they saw one golden 
 autumn morning of 1795, coming across the tree- 
 less plain. In an open carriage a woman and two 
 girls, and driving straight for the prison. Once 
 there their surprising mission was made known, 
 not to free Lafayette, but to place themselves within 
 dungeon walls to share his fate ! 
 
 Madame de Lafayette and her daughters had had 
 a long hard journey from Paris to this remote 
 Austrian stronghold. At Vienna they had obtained 
 the necessary permission from the emperor to join 
 Lafayette; but it had come with solemn advice 
 against such a step. 
 
 Now a strange scene in the old prison. Grief, 
 struggle, despair, it had always known as new faces 
 entered in. But here came a slender little woman 
 and two young girls in joyful tears, storming the 
 grim entrance, begging to be made prisoners, exult- 
 ing as each ponderous door closing behind brought 
 them nearer to that doubly locked cell of Lafayette. 
 Without warning to the prisoner, the bolts rattled
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 339 
 
 back and the door swung open. There in the dim 
 vaulted space was standing a man, tall, pale, thin to 
 emaciation, entirely bald, wearing rags that were 
 once the uniform of a French general, standing 
 uncertainly, gazing with wide unbelieving eyes at a 
 radiant group trembling in his prison doorway. 
 
 The joy of that reunion never faded even when 
 the first exultation passed, and the long days and 
 nights of immolation wore on, and stone walls 
 crowded close, and iron bars ate in. The two girls 
 were given a cell next to Lafayette's. For a por- 
 tion of each day the members of the family were 
 allowed to be together. They had one another, 
 that was all. Most necessities of comfort, even of 
 decency, these cultured scions of nobility had to get 
 along without. No one cared for their cells; that 
 work, however hard and repellent, they had to do 
 for themselves. Their food, which they paid for, 
 was plentiful enough, but inexpressibly dirty. 
 They were compelled to eat with their fingers, 
 knives and forks being denied them. Worst of all, 
 a foul open drain ran under their window, so that 
 the air was constantly contaminated. 
 
 In such existence weeks, months, a year, went 
 by. Through some means the prisoners got the 
 comfort of knowing that young George had safely 
 reached his famous namesake in America; but they 
 were not allowed to communicate with him. All 
 seemed able to bear the prison life except Madame
 
 340 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 de Lafayette. Though the brightest and most 
 cheerful of all, she was evidently failing. Soon 
 her condition became alarming. An appeal was 
 made to the emperor that she might be permitted 
 to go for treatment to Vienna. The reply was that 
 she might go, but that if she did she could not re- 
 turn. Adrienne Noailles de Lafayette did not go 
 to Vienna. 
 
 By this time the family must have been much im- 
 pressed with their importance as prisoners. The 
 most elaborate precautions were taken against their 
 escape. The huge jailer had a "trousseau" of 
 keys with which to unlock their cells. He did not 
 dare to speak to them without witnesses. At eight 
 o'clock at night he appeared accompanied by 
 several guards. It was then time for the girls to 
 be taken to their separate cell. They had to pass 
 under the crossed sabers of the guards. So the 
 weeks and months of the second year (the fifth for 
 Lafayette) dragged on. 
 
 All this time efforts were being made to induce 
 Austria to relinquish her famous prisoner. Wash- 
 ington did all in his power, including a personal ap- 
 peal to the emperor. But in the imprisonment of 
 Lafayette, Austria was but acting as the jailer for 
 Europe. All Europe was afraid of the man. The 
 French Revolution, spreading its principles with the 
 advance of its armies, had undermined European 
 despotism. With the zeal of a holy war the French
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 341 
 
 legions had carried to downtrodden peoples the new 
 ideas of liberty and equality, and had fired them 
 with the revolutionary fanaticism that had over- 
 turned the throne of France. 
 
 Monarchs trembled, and tightened their hold 
 upon Lafayette. While he had had nothing to do 
 with the excesses of the French Revolution, and had 
 always stood for moderation, yet he had been and 
 was the very embodiment of rebellion against auto- 
 cratic rule. As the Austrian cabinet put it, "His 
 very existence is a menace to the established govern- 
 ments of Europe." Regardless of appeals from 
 every side, the frightened family of sovereigns had 
 no idea of allowing him to leave his prison alive. 
 
 But at length, in the summer of 1797, a voice 
 was to speak not in appeal but in demand, and 
 prison doors were to open. Napoleon Bonaparte 
 had risen fast after his debut in cannon smoke at the 
 Tuileries. Placed at the head of one of the French 
 armies, he had astonished the world in a campaign 
 against Austria. He had swept through Italy, 
 over the Alps, and to within sight of the domes of 
 Vienna. Then Austria had been forced to sue for 
 peace; and among the terms to which she had to 
 accede was a demand for the release of Lafayette. 
 Not for Lafayette's sake (even Napoleon feared 
 the man's influence), but because he was a French 
 general in the hands of the enemy. 
 
 On September 19, 1797, the gates of Olmutz
 
 342 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 swung open, and under an Austrian guard the La- 
 fayettes came forth. The prisoner of kings was on 
 his way to liberty. Weakened and blanched, the 
 family shrank from sunshine and breeze, and even 
 the unaccustomed pure air troubled them. Ac- 
 companied by the guard, they set out for Germany 
 where, at Hamburg, they were to be set at liberty. 
 The journey was taken slowly on account of the 
 seriously weakened condition of Madame de La- 
 fayette. At Hamburg, America had another grate- 
 ful part to play. It was not to some representative 
 of France, but to the consul of the United States, 
 that this important state prisoner was formally de- 
 livered. 
 
 Now where was Lafayette to find a home? He 
 was forbidden to remain in Germany, forbidden to 
 enter France. Few places were open to him. 
 America of course, but the ill health of his wife pre- 
 cluded that. At first the family joined a number of 
 relatives and friends living in exile in a fief of Den- 
 mark. Here they became part of a tragical 
 comedy that fallen, impoverished French nobility 
 were playing all over Europe. Marquises, counts, 
 dukes, and their grand ladies, exiled by law or by 
 terror, for the first time looking the world in the 
 face, and trying through laughter and tears to get 
 on with it. Babes in the woods ! 
 
 They pooled their little sums of money, won- 
 dered at what shops you bought things, and won-
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 343 
 
 dered more that their money bought so little. Some- 
 times a hidden jewel or a treasured keepsake would 
 be brought out, and the proceeds helped for a while. 
 Hiding poverty through the day, fallen noblesse 
 would meet at night in their faded best quite in the 
 manner of the Paris salon. If hunger gnawed, it 
 but lent piquancy to conversation as to how much 
 the last snuff-box would bring. And so all out 
 around France tears and laughter went on, tears 
 in the little back rooms, laughter in the mock salons. 
 And poverty did not overlook the Lafayettes. For 
 long this was their life. Yet they had a sort of 
 happiness, and Madame de Lafayette grew stronger. 
 
 Toward the spring of 1798, young George 
 Washington arrived from America. He had 
 grown almost out of recognition. To his father 
 the joy of his coming was enhanced by what he 
 brought with him. The boy had dared to pass 
 through France on his way, and had visited his aged 
 aunt at Chavaniac. There he had remembered the 
 buried American sword that had lain in Lafayette's 
 native soil through all those troubled years. He 
 had dug it up, that is, the gold hilt of it, the blade 
 having rusted away. 
 
 It was a dangerous undertaking at that time to 
 attempt to carry gold out of France; but young 
 George successfully concealed the treasured hilt, 
 and now presented it to his father. A son just re- 
 turned from the home of Washington; in his hand
 
 344 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 the hilt of the American honor sword! What 
 thoughts must have been Lafayette's ! Night after 
 night he talked with George of America; and 
 chiefly of the man who, as he said, "had become a 
 father for both." 
 
 Early in 1799 the Lafayettes moved a step 
 nearer their native land, making their home in a 
 little village in Holland near Utrecht. Madame de 
 Lafayette's name was not among those in the "book 
 of death," and so, being free to enter France, she 
 made a number of journeys there in the attempt to 
 save something from the wreck of her family's 
 princely possessions. She was but one of many 
 lone women of the old nobility desperately engaged 
 in such efforts. Poverty-stricken, they sought 
 cheap lodgings, went afoot past their own lost 
 palaces, and, in memory of the death-tumbrels, 
 shivered at the rumble of a cart. 
 
 Madame de Lafayette was upon one of her visits 
 to Paris that memorable ninth of November, 1799, 
 when, by a coup d'etat, all of the republic but the 
 name was overthrown, and Bonaparte as First 
 Consul became dictator of France. The devoted 
 wife of Lafayette was quick to see in this upheaval 
 a possibility of ending the exile of her husband. 
 She planned a little coup d'etat of her own. Hur- 
 riedly she wrote him that the France which had set 
 a price upon his head was no more, that now was
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 345 
 
 the moment to risk all, break through his proscrip- 
 tion, and come to Paris. 
 
 Within two hours after the messenger reached 
 Lafayette with this letter and a passport for him 
 under an assumed name, the exile was on his way 
 to France. But upon his advising Napoleon of his 
 arrival in Paris, the dreaded anger of the Corsican 
 blazed forth. Nobody dared to speak to him of 
 the matter. Prison walls seemed looming again for 
 Lafayette. 
 
 His friends urged him to leave France at once. 
 He spoke of Bonaparte's anger lightly. "You 
 should be sufficiently acquainted with me," he said, 
 "to know that this imperious and menacing tone 
 would suffice to confirm me in the course which I 
 have taken." This was but the first of many con- 
 flicts of will between these two great leaders of 
 France. This time Napoleon's star was in the 
 ascendant, and while Lafayette was allowed to re- 
 main in his native land, it was required that he 
 should live in retirement in the country until re- 
 lieved from his proscription. The time was soon 
 to come when the tables were to be turned, when 
 Lafayette, who was yet to make and unmake kings, 
 should be among the foremost in forcing the abdi- 
 cation of Bonaparte as emperor. But all that was 
 on beyond the days of this story of two revolutions. 
 Now, Madame de Lafayette had finally recovered 
 an estate (inherited from her mother) called La
 
 346 SWORD OF LIBERTY 
 
 Grange, not far from Paris, and to this the family 
 retired. 
 
 It is useless to try to keep Lafayette out of the 
 atmosphere of the days of chivalry. Grave histori- 
 ans have failed at it. Just as, in his boyhood, a 
 gallant young figure, he sailed across the sea to 
 fight for liberty; just as, through two revolutions, 
 he fought and suffered with courage high and honor 
 unsullied; so now he returned from battle-field and 
 prison like a worn but undaunted crusader. And 
 (how the atmosphere holds!) returned to a verit- 
 able medieval stronghold with battlements, moat, 
 portcullis, and all. La Grange did not fail in its 
 part. It was a great castle-fortress of the days of 
 the Crusades themselves. And down through the 
 centuries it had defied change. For this "knight of 
 liberty" here was proper resting-place. 
 
 And here for long Lafayette remained, rather 
 scandalizing the proud old castle, perhaps, by turn- 
 ing farmer. But he kept the warrior spirit too, and 
 treasured his trophies as they hung upon the walls. 
 There among others was the gold hilt of the 
 American honor sword, a line of rust showing 
 where blade had been; and there was the honor 
 sword from France. 
 
 Then, an inspiration! Was it Lafayette's or did 
 it come from the shade of some bold knight who 
 had fared forth across the portcullis of La Grange 
 and left his bones in the Holy J^and? Soon, in-
 
 SWORD OF LIBERTY 347 
 
 stead of those two trophies on the wall, there hung 
 a strange new sword: to the empty hilt from 
 America had been welded the blade of the weapon 
 from France. Now in odd companionship were 
 the exquisitely wrought devices, Gloucester, and 
 the dread tocsin; Barren Hill, and the Fall of the 
 Bastille. It was all a long while ago. And yet to- 
 day somewhere in France still hangs that strange 
 sword of two languages, of two countries, of two 
 great revolutions for freedom Sword of Liberty. 
 
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