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[Illustration: LA FAYETTE AND THE BRITISH AMBASSADOR.]




ST. NICHOLAS.

Vol. XIII.      JULY, 1886.      No. 9.

[Copyright, 1886, by THE CENTURY CO.]

LA FAYETTE.

By Mrs. Eugenia M. Hodge.


One hundred and nine years ago, in the month of February, 1777, a young
French guardsman ran away to sea.

And a most singular running away it was. He did not wish to be a sailor,
but he was so anxious to go that he bought a ship to run away in,--for he
was a very wealthy young man; and though he was only nineteen, he held a
commission as major-general in the armies of a land three thousand miles
away--a land he had never seen and the language of which he could not
speak. The King of France commanded him to remain at home; his friends and
relatives tried to restrain him; and even the representatives, or agents,
of the country in defense of which he desired to fight would not encourage
his purpose. And when the young man, while dining at the house of the
British Ambassador to France, openly avowed his sympathy with a downtrodden
people, and his determination to help them gain their freedom, the
Ambassador acted quickly. At his request, the rash young enthusiast was
arrested by the French Government, and orders were given to seize his ship,
which was awaiting him at Bordeaux. But ship and owner both slipped away,
and sailing from the port of Pasajes in Spain, the runaway, with eleven
chosen companions, was soon on the sea, bound for America, and beyond the
reach of both friends and foes.

On April 25, 1777, he landed at the little port of Georgetown, at the mouth
of the Great Pee Dee river in South Carolina; and from that day forward the
career of Marie Jean Paul Roch Yves Gilbert Motier, Marquis de La Fayette,
has held a place in the history of America, and in the interest and
affection of the American people.

When he first arrived in the land for which he desired to fight, however,
he found but a cool reception. The Congress of the United States was poor,
and so many good and brave American officers who had proved their worth
were desirous of commissions as major-generals, that the commission
promised to this young Frenchman could not easily be put in force so far as
an actual command and a salary were concerned.

But the young general had come across the sea for a purpose, and money and
position were not parts of that purpose. He expressed his desire to serve
in the American army upon two very singular conditions, namely: that he
should receive no pay, and that he should act as a volunteer. The Congress
was so impressed with the enthusiasm and self-sacrifice of the young
Frenchman that, on July 31, 1777, it passed a resolution directing that
"his services be accepted and that, in consideration of his zeal,
illustrious family and connections, he have the rank and commission of a
Major-General of the United States."

General Washington was greatly attracted by the energy and earnestness of
the young nobleman. He took him into what was called his "military family,"
assigned him to special and honorable duty; and when the young volunteer
was wounded at the battle of Brandywine, the Commander-in-Chief praised his
"bravery and military ardor" so highly that the Congress gave La Fayette
the command of a division. Thus, before he was twenty, he was actually a
general, and already, as one historian says, he had "justified the boyish
rashness which his friends deplored and his sovereign resented, and had
acquired a place in history."

Notwithstanding General Washington's assertion to Congress that La Fayette
had made "great proficiency in our language," the young marquis's
pronunciation of English was far from perfect. French, Spanish, and Italian
were all familiar to him, but his English was not readily understood by the
men he was called upon to command. It was therefore necessary to find as
his aid-de-camp one who could quickly interpret the orders of his
commanding officer.

[Illustration: STATUE OF LA FAYETTE BY A. BARTHOLDI,--
UNION SQUARE, NEW-YORK CITY.]

Such an aid was at last found in the person of a certain young Connecticut
adjutant on the regimental staff of dashing Brigadier-General Wayne,--"Mad
Anthony" Wayne, the hero of Stony Point.

This young adjutant was of almost the same age as Lafayette; he had
received, what was rare enough in those old days, an excellent college
education, and he was said to be the only man in the American army who
could speak French and English equally well.

These young men, General La Fayette and his aid, grew very fond of each
other during an intimate acquaintance of nearly seven years. The French
marquis, with that overflow of spirits and outward demonstration so
noticeable in most Frenchmen, freely showed his affection for the more
reserved American--often throwing his arms around his neck, kissing him
upon the cheek and calling him "My brave, my good, my virtuous, my adopted
brother!"

After the battle of Monmouth, which occurred on June 28, 1778, and in which
La Fayette's command was engaged against the British forces, who were
routed, the marquis was enthusiastic in praise of the gallant conduct of
his friend and aid. Not content with this, he sent to him some years after,
when the aid-de-camp, then a colonel in rank, was elected to political
honors, the following acrostic, as a souvenir, expressive of the esteem and
remembrance of his former commander. The initial letters of each line of
the poem will spell out for you the name of this soldier friend of La
Fayette. And here is an exact copy of the acrostic and of the postscript
that accompanied it:

  Sage of the East! where wisdom rears her head,
  Augustus, taught in virtue's path to tread,
  'Mid thousands of his race, elected stands
  Unanimous to legislative bands;
  Endowed with every art to frame just laws,
  Learns to hate vice, to virtue gives applause.

  Augustus, oh, thy name that's ever dear
  Unrivaled stands to crown each passing year!
  Great are the virtues that exalt thy mind.
  Unenvied merit marks thy worth refined.
  Sincerely rigid for your country's right,
  To save her Liberty you deigned to fight;
  Undaunted courage graced your manly brow,
  Secured such honors as the gods endow.--

  Bright is the page; the record of thy days
  Attracts my muse thus to rehearse thy praise.
  Rejoice then, patriots, statesmen, all rejoice!
  Kindle his praises with one general voice!
  Emblazon out his deeds, his virtues prize,
  Reiterate his praises to the skies!
                                    M. D. LA FAYETTE.

P.S.--The Colonel will readily apologize for the inaccuracies of
an unskillful muse, and be convinced the high estimation of his amiable
character could alone actuate the author of the foregoing.

                                    M. D. LA FAYETTE.

So the name of the young general's friend and aid-de-camp was Samuel
Augustus Barker.

       *       *       *       *       *

Years passed. The Revolution was over. America was free. The French
Revolution, with all its horrors and successes, had made France a republic.
Napoleon had risen, conquered, ruled, fallen, and died, and the first
quarter of the nineteenth century was nearly completed, when, in August,
1824, an old French gentleman who had been an active participant in several
of these historic scenes arrived in New York. It was General the Marquis de
La Fayette, now a veteran of nearly seventy, returning to America as the
honored guest of the growing and prosperous republic he had helped to
found.

His journey through the land was like a triumph. Flowers and decorations
brightened his path, cheering people and booming cannon welcomed his
approach. And in one of those welcomings, in a little village in Central
New York, a cannon, which was heavily loaded for a salute in honor of the
nation's guest, exploded, and killed a plucky young fellow who had
volunteered to "touch off" the over-charged gun when no one else dared.
Some months after, the old marquis chanced to hear of the tragedy, and at
once his sympathies were aroused for the widowed mother of the young man.

He at once wrote to the son of the man who had been his comrade in arms in
the revolutionary days half a century before, asking full information
concerning the fatal accident, and the needs of the mother of the poor
young man who was killed; and having thus learned all the facts, sent the
sum of one thousand dollars to relieve the mother's necessities and to pay
off the mortgage on her little home.

I have before me, as I write, the original letter written by the General to
the son of his old friend, the paper marked and yellow with the creases of
sixty years; and as I read it again, I feel that of all the incidents of
the singularly eventful life of La Fayette there are none that show his
noble nature more fully than those I have noted here: his enthusiastic
services in behalf of an oppressed people, his close and devoted affection
for his friend and comrade, and the impulsive generosity of a heart that
was at once manly, tender, and true.

And as I write, I am grateful that I can claim a certain association with
that honored name of La Fayette; for the young adjutant to whom the
acrostic was addressed and the friend through whom the gift to the widow
was communicated were respectively my grandfather and my father.

It is at least pleasant to know that one's ancestors were the intimate
friends of so noble a man, of whom one biographer has recently said: "He
was brave even to rashness, his life was one of constant peril, and yet he
never shrank from any danger or responsibility if he saw the way open to
spare life or suffering, to protect the defenseless, to sustain law and
preserve order."

At the southern extremity of Union Square, in the city of New York, there
is a bronze statue of La Fayette. As you have already been told in ST.
NICHOLAS, it represents him in graceful pose and with earnest face and
gesture, "making offer of his sword to the country he admired--the country
that sorely needed his aid. The left hand is extended as if in greeting and
friendly self-surrender, and the right hand, which holds the sword, is
pressed against the breast, as if implying that his whole heart goes with
his sword." Lafayette's words, "As soon as I heard of American
independence, my heart was enlisted," are inscribed upon the pedestal of
the statue; and a short distance from it, in the plaza adjoining the
square, is an equestrian statue of Washington. It is fitting that the
bronze images of those two great men should thus be placed together, as the
names of Washington and La Fayette are forever coupled in the history and
in the affections of the American people.




A CHILD'S FANCY.

BY FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN.


  The meadow is a battle-field
    Where Summer's army comes:
  Each soldier with a clover shield,
    The honey-bees with drums.
      Boom, rat-ta!--they march and pass
        The captain tree who stands
      Saluting with a sword of grass
        And giving the commands.

  'T is only when the breezes blow
    Across the woody hills,
  They shoulder arms and, to and fro,
    March in their full-dress drills.
      Boom, rat-ta!--they wheel in line
        And wave their gleaming spears.
      "March!" cries the captain, giving sign,
        And every soldier cheers.

  But when the day is growing dim
    They gather in their camps,
  And sing a good thanksgiving hymn
    Around their fire-fly lamps.
      Ra-ta-ta!--the bugle-notes
        Call "good-night!" to the sky.--
      I hope they all have overcoats
        To keep them warm and dry!




LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.

CHAPTER X.


[Illustration]

The truth was that Mrs. Errol had found a great many sad things in the
course of her work among the poor of the little village that appeared so
picturesque when it was seen from the moor-sides. Everything was not as
picturesque, when seen near by, as it looked from a distance. She had found
idleness and poverty and ignorance where there should have been comfort and
industry. And she had discovered, after a while, that Erleboro was
considered to be the worst village in that part of the country. Mr.
Mordaunt had told her a great many of his difficulties and discouragements,
and she had found out a great deal by herself. The agents who had managed
the property had always been chosen to please the Earl, and had cared
nothing for the degradation and wretchedness of the poor tenants. Many
things, therefore, had been neglected which should have been attended to,
and matters had gone from bad to worse.

As to Earl's Court, it was a disgrace, with its dilapidated houses and
miserable, careless, sickly people. When first Mrs. Errol went to the
place, it made her shudder. Such ugliness and slovenliness and want seemed
worse in a country place than in a city. It seemed as if there it might be
helped. And as she looked at the squalid, uncared-for children growing up
in the midst of vice and brutal indifference, she thought of her own little
boy spending his days in the great, splendid castle, guarded and served
like a young prince, having no wish ungratified, and knowing nothing but
luxury and ease and beauty. And a bold thought came into her wise little
mother-heart. Gradually she had begun to see, as had others, that it had
been her boy's good fortune to please the Earl very much, and that he would
scarcely be likely to be denied anything for which he expressed a desire.

"The Earl would give him anything," she said to Mr. Mordaunt. "He would
indulge his every whim. Why should not that indulgence be used for the good
of others? It is for me to see that this shall come to pass."

She knew she could trust the kind, childish heart; so she told the little
fellow the story of Earl's Court, feeling sure that he would speak of it to
his grandfather, and hoping that some good results would follow.

And strange as it appeared to every one, good results did follow. The fact
was that the strongest power to influence the Earl was his grandson's
perfect confidence in him--the fact that Cedric always believed that his
grandfather was going to do what was right and generous. He could not quite
make up his mind to let him discover that he had no inclination to be
generous at all, and that he wanted his own way on all occasions, whether
it was right or wrong. It was such a novelty to be regarded with admiration
as a benefactor of the entire human race, and the soul of nobility, that he
did not enjoy the idea of looking into the affectionate brown eyes, and
saying: "I am a violent, selfish old rascal; I never did a generous thing
in my life, and I don't care about Earl's Court or the poor people"--or
something which would amount to the same thing. He actually had learned to
be fond enough of that small boy with the mop of yellow love-locks, to feel
that he himself would prefer to be guilty of an amiable action now and
then. And so--though he laughed at himself--after some reflection, he sent
for Newick, and had quite a long interview with him on the subject of the
Court, and it was decided that the wretched hovels should be pulled down
and new houses should be built.

"It is Lord Fauntleroy who insists on it," he said dryly; "he thinks it
will improve the property. You can tell the tenants that it's his idea."
And he looked down at his small lordship, who was lying on the hearth-rug
playing with Dougal. The great dog was the lad's constant companion, and
followed him about everywhere, stalking solemnly after him when he walked,
and trotting majestically behind when he rode or drove.

Of course, both the country people and the town people heard of the
proposed improvement. At first, many of them would not believe it; but when
a small army of workmen arrived and commenced pulling down the crazy,
squalid cottages, people began to understand that little Lord Fauntleroy
had done them a good turn again, and that through his innocent interference
the scandal of Earl's Court had at last been removed. If he had only known
how they talked about him and praised him everywhere, and prophesied great
things for him when he grew up, how astonished he would have been! But he
never suspected it. He lived his simple, happy child life,--frolicking
about in the park; chasing the rabbits to their burrows; lying under the
trees on the grass, or on the rug in the library, reading wonderful books
and talking to the Earl about them, and then telling the stories again to
his mother; writing long letters to Dick and Mr. Hobbs, who responded in
characteristic fashion; riding out at his grandfather's side, or with
Wilkins as escort. As they rode through the market town, he used to see the
people turn and look, and he noticed that as they lifted their hats their
faces often brightened very much, but he thought it was all because his
grandfather was with him.

[Illustration: "THE WORKMEN LIKED TO SEE HIM STAND AMONG THEM, TALKING
AWAY, WITH HIS HANDS IN HIS POCKETS."]

"They are so fond of you," he once said, looking up at his lordship with a
bright smile. "Do you see how glad they are when they see you? I hope they
will some day be as fond of me. It must be nice to have _every_ body like
you." And he felt quite proud to be the grandson of so greatly admired and
beloved an individual.

When the cottages were being built