The intelligence that no more French troops could be expected called manifestly for new plans of campaign, and a conference between the respective chiefs was finally arranged, which took place at Hartford with considerable ceremony on the 20th of September. Washington had with him General Knox and General Lafayette. The French general and admiral were accompanied by as many subordinate officers as could find plausible excuse to go along, for all were curious to meet the famous General Washington.

At this conference the whole situation was discussed in detail, but no way of winning the war without outside help was discovered. Rochambeau sent his son, who had come to America with him, back to France with a formal account of the proceedings; while Washington and Lafayette also sent letters to France by the son of that Mr. Laurens who had offered Lafayette the hospitality of his traveling-carriage after the battle of the Brandywine.

One chance of help still remained, even if the Ministry should consider it impossible to despatch aid directly from France. The Comte de Guichen, who commanded a fleet then in the West Indies, might be persuaded to sail to the relief of the Americans if the letters could be made sufficiently persuasive. Washington wrote directly to him as well as to France, sending this letter through the French minister to the United States, in order that everything might be diplomatically correct and aboveboard.

XVI
BLACK TREACHERY

"When I left you yesterday, M. le Chevalier, to come here to take breakfast with General Arnold, we were very far from thinking of the event which I am about to announce to you. You will shudder at the danger we have run. You will be astonished at the miraculous chain of accidents and circumstances by which we were saved.... West Point was sold, and it was sold by Arnold! That same man who had covered himself with glory by rendering valuable services to his country had lately formed a horrid compact with the enemy. And but for the chance which brought us here at a certain time, but for the chance which by a combination of accidents caused the adjutant-general of the English army to fall into the hands of some countrymen beyond the line of our own posts, West Point and the North River would probably be in possession of our enemies.

"When we left Fishkill we were preceded by one of my aides-de-camp and General Knox's aide, who found General and Mrs. Arnold at table and sat down to breakfast with them. During that time two letters were brought to General Arnold giving him information of the capture of the spy. He ordered a horse to be saddled, went to his wife's room and told her he was lost, and directed one of his aides-de-camp to say to General Washington that he had gone to West Point and should return in an hour."

Arnold had been gone only thirty minutes when Washington and Lafayette rode up.

"We crossed the river and went to look at the works. Judge of our astonishment when, upon our return, we were informed that the captured spy was Major André, the adjutant-general of the English army, and that among the papers found upon him was a copy of a very important council of war, a statement of the strength of the garrison and of the works, and certain observations upon the methods of attack and defense, all in General Arnold's handwriting.... A search was made for Arnold, but he had escaped in a boat on board the sloop-of-war Vulture, and as nobody suspected his flight, no sentry could have thought of arresting him.... The first care of General Washington was to return to West Point the troops whom Arnold had dispersed under various pretexts. We remained here to insure the safety of a fort which the English would value less if they knew it better....

"I cannot describe to you, M. le Chevalier, to what degree I am astounded by this piece of news.... That Arnold, a man who, although not so highly esteemed as has been supposed in Europe, had nevertheless given proof of talent, of patriotism, and especially of the most brilliant courage, should at once destroy his very existence and should sell his country to the tyrants whom he had fought against with glory, is an event, M. le Chevalier, which confounds and distresses me, and, if I must confess it, humiliates me to a degree that I cannot express. I would give anything in the world if Arnold had not shared our labors with us, and if this man whom it still pains me to call a scoundrel had not shed his blood for the American cause. My knowledge of his personal courage led me to expect that he would decide to blow his brains out. This was my first hope. At all events, it is probable that he will do so when he reaches New York, whither the English sloop proceeded immediately upon receiving Arnold on board....

This letter expressed the hope that André would be hanged according to military law, because, being a man of high rank and influence, his fate would serve as a warning to spies of lesser degree. Lafayette was one of the court martial that tried and sentenced him; and we have no proof that he hesitated for an instant in the performance of his stem duty or that he ever regretted it. Yet from a letter to Madame Lafayette, written after André's death, we know that Lafayette felt his charm, as did every one else who knew the unfortunate young Englishman. "He was an interesting young man," Lafayette wrote. "He conducted himself in a manner so frank, so noble, and so delicate that I cannot help feeling for him infinite sorrow."

Arnold, as everybody knows, did not blow out his brains, but, becoming literally a turncoat, donned the red of the British uniform, and took his unwelcome place among the gentlemen officers of King George. In the following spring he was doing work of destruction in Virginia; but he was not trusted by his new companions, and two British colonels supposed to be under his orders were secretly charged with the duty of keeping an eye on him. It was in Virginia that his path and Lafayette's crossed once more.

Lafayette meantime had been a prey to restlessness. Nothing happened in the North more interesting than camp routine and the exchange of official visits. During the summer he had been given command of a special corps of light infantry culled from all branches of the service, a body of men in which he took infinite pride. "Its position is always that of advance-guard," he wrote Adrienne. "It is independent of the main army, and it is far too fine for our present pacific situation." He lavished training and affection upon it and pampered it by sending to France for luxuries like sabers and banners and plumes. While less needed than coats and shoes, such things were easier to transport. But even in the matter of clothing this favored corps was better off than the rest of the army. A French officer who visited Lafayette's camp thought the uniforms of both men and officers smart. Each soldier wore a sort of helmet made of hard leather, with a crest of horsehair.

Before the army went into winter quarters many Frenchmen came to "the camp of the marquis" twenty miles from New York, making the pilgrimage not so much from love of him or to sample the punch which, according to the custom of the time, he kept "stationary on the table" for the benefit of his guests, as out of curiosity to see Washington's headquarters, which were not far away. Most of them were impressed by the good horses owned by American generals and astonished at the simplicity of their other equipment. Some "who had made war as colonels long before Lafayette left school" were the least bit jealous of his youth and influence. Several had entered into an agreement not to accept service under him; but all were flattered that a Frenchman held such high place in public esteem. One of them asserted with complacency that "private letters from him have frequently produced more effect upon some states than the strongest exhortations of Congress."

When the army went into winter quarters again he had even more time upon his hands. He wrote many letters. One went almost every month to his powerful friend at court, Vergennes, urging speedy aid. The military needs of the country were never absent from his thoughts, even while he was taking his French friends, including De Noailles, on a personally conducted tour of near-by battle-fields and cities. He did not trust himself far from headquarters, for fear that his chief might need him or that he might miss some opportunity. When Colonel Laurens received his instructions before starting for Paris he took care to be on hand, to give expert advice on court customs and prejudices. He was a young man who well knew his influence upon two continents, and was so eager to use it that a man of less winning personality in similar circumstances might have got himself heartily disliked.

His eagerness to do something was heightened by his belief that Europe misunderstood, and thought Americans either unready or unwilling to fight. His vivid imagination got to work again and juggled with facts and figures until he became convinced that a surprise attack upon New York could do no possible harm and might capture the city. He detailed this plan to Washington, who saw the weakness of his reasoning and rejected it in a kind letter signed "sincerely and affectionately yours," reminding Lafayette that "we must consult our means rather than our wishes" and that "to endeavor to recover our reputation we should take care not to injure it the more."

After this gentle snub he was torn between a desire to join General Greene in the South for the winter campaign and his wish to be near New York when a blow was struck there. With a curiosity that would have been unpardonable in a less intimate friend, he sought to find out his chief's plans on this score. Washington's answer was non-committal, but he pointed out that "your going to the Southern army, if you expect a command in this, will answer no valuable purpose"; and after this second gentle snub Lafayette gave up the idea of joining Greene. Then in February he was sent with a detachment of twelve hundred men to Virginia, where Arnold was destroying valuable supplies. His orders bade him travel fast, "not to suffer the detachment to be delayed for want of either provisions, forage, or wagons," and after he got to Virginia "to do no act whatever with Arnold that directly or by implication will screen him from the punishment due to his treason and desertion; which, if he should fall into your hands, you will execute in the most summary way." While in Virginia he was to co-operate with General von Steuben, who was in command of militia there; and if it should prove impossible to dislodge Arnold, Lafayette was to bring his men back to rejoin the main army.

He had his force at the Head of Elk, that inlet at the head of Chesapeake Bay which the English had already used, three days ahead of schedule time. His campaign lasted about a month, but came to nothing, because he did not have the co-operation of ships, and in that tangle of land and water control of Chesapeake Bay was as necessary to success as ammunition or fodder. The French had been asked to help, and twice sent ships from Newport to Chesapeake Bay, but in neither case were they useful to him. He did the best he could from day to day without them, and even pushed down the bay in a small boat far ahead of his men, hoping to establish connections; but the ships he saw were British instead of French. Then he took his men back again to the Head of Elk.

That his failure was not due to lack of persistence letters written by him to Gov. Thomas Jefferson, asking for transportation, for provisions, for boats, for wagons, for horses, and, if horses were not available, even for oxen to draw his guns, amply testify. That he had his usual resourcefulness at instant command was displayed at Annapolis on the northward journey when he found two small armed British vessels blocking his progress. He improvised a temporary navy of his own, armed two merchant sloops with cannon, manned them with volunteers, and drove the British away long enough to permit the rest of his force to go on.

Neither was his usual friendliness lacking. He snatched time to visit Mount Vernon and to call upon Washington's mother at Fredericksburg, but he made up for the time lost in these indulgences by riding at night to overtake his command.

XVII
PREPARING FOR THE LAST ACT

The British were beginning to be hard pressed in the South. The struggle had been long and disappointing, and burning and looting and the horrors of civil war had spread over a large area. Two Continental armies had been lost in rapid succession, and there had been months when one disaster seemed to follow upon another; but gradually the British were being driven away from their ships and bases of supply on the coast. The heat of summer had brought much sickness to their camps, and General Greene, next to Washington the most skilful of the Revolutionary generals, had perfected his "science of losing battles" to the point where his opponents might claim almost every engagement as a victory and yet the advantage remained with the Americans. Recently the British had lost a large part of their light troops. In March, 1781, Cornwallis decided to leave General Rawdon, with whom Lafayette had danced in London, to face Greene, while he himself went to Virginia, joined Benedict Arnold and General Phillips there, and returned with them to finish the conquest of the South. Washington learned of the plan and knew that if it succeeded General Greene might be crushed between two British forces. Arnold and Phillips must be kept busy in Virginia. Steuben was already on the ground; Anthony Wayne was ordered to hurry his Pennsylvanians to the rescue; and Lafayette, being near the point of danger, was turned back. He found new orders when he reached Head of Elk.

The scene was being set in Virginia, not in New York, for the last act of the Revolutionary War; but neither he nor his men realized this, and if Lafayette was disappointed, the men were almost in a state of panic. They began deserting in large numbers. "They like better a hundred lashes than a journey to the southward," their commander wrote. "As long as they had an expedition in view they were very well satisfied; but the idea of remaining in the Southern states appears to them intolerable, and they are amazingly averse to the people and climate." Most of them were New England born. He hastened to put many rivers between them and the land of their desire; and also tried an appeal to their pride. In an order of the day he stated that his force had been chosen to fight an enemy superior in numbers and to encounter many dangers. No man need desert, for their commander would not compel one of them to accompany him against his will. Whoever chose to do so might apply for a pass and be sent back to rejoin his former regiment. They were part of his beloved light infantry of the previous year, with all this implied of friendship and interest on both sides, and this appeal worked like a charm. Desertion went suddenly and completely out of fashion; nobody asked for a pass, and one poor fellow who was in danger of being sent back because he was lame hired a cart to be saved from this disgrace.

Lafayette's men had once been better dressed than the average; but their present ragged clothing was entirely unsuited to the work ahead of them, being fit only for winter wear in the North. As usual, money and new garments were equally lacking, and as usual this general of twenty-three came to the rescue. When he reached Baltimore he let the merchants know that according to French law he was to come into full control of all his property on reaching the age of twenty-five, and he promised to pay two years hence for everything he ordered, if the government did not pay them earlier. On the strength of this he borrowed two thousand guineas with which to buy overalls, hats, and shoes; and he smiled upon the ladies of Baltimore, who gave a ball in his honor, told them confidentially of his plight, and so stirred their patriotism and sympathy that they set to work with their own fair hands and made up the linen he bought for shirts.

Phillips and Arnold had joined forces near Norfolk, and, since the British were in control of Chesapeake Bay, could go where they chose. Lafayette believed they would soon move up the James River toward Norfolk to destroy supplies the Americans had collected. He resolved to get to Richmond before them, though he had twice the distance to travel. With this in view he set out from Baltimore on the 19th of April, moving with such haste that his artillery and even the tents for his men were left to follow at a slower pace. On the day before he left Baltimore the British, under General Phillips, who outranked Arnold, began the very march he had foreseen. Steuben's Virginia militia put up the best defense it could, but, being inferior in numbers and training, could only retire inch by inch, moving supplies to places of greater safety as it went. But it retired hopefully, knowing Lafayette to be on the way.

Continuing to advance, partly by land and partly by water, the British reached Petersburg, only twenty-three miles from Richmond. They passed Petersburg and pressed on. On April 30th they reached Manchester on the south bank of the James, directly opposite Richmond. There, to General Phillips's amazement, he beheld more than the town he had come to take; drawn up on the hills above the river was Lafayette's force, which had arrived the night before. He had only about nine hundred Continentals in addition to his militia, and the British numbered twenty-three hundred, but Phillips did not choose to attack. He contented himself with swearing eloquently and giving orders to retire. Lafayette had the satisfaction of learning, through an officer who visited the British camp under flag of truce, that his enemy had been completely surprised. But the young Frenchman felt it necessary to explain to Washington just how he had been able to do it. "The leaving of my artillery appears a strange whim, but had I waited for it Richmond was lost.... It was not without trouble I have made this rapid march."

Lafayette was to be under General Greene and expected to find orders from him waiting at Richmond. Not finding them, he decided he could best serve the cause by keeping General Phillips uneasy, and followed him down the James; but, being too weak to attack except with great advantage of position, he prudently kept the river between them. The military journal kept by Colonel Simcoe, one of the British officers charged with the unpleasant duty of watching Arnold, admits that this was "good policy," though he longed to take advantage of what he called his French adversary's "gasconading disposition and military ignorance" and make some counter-move which his own superior officers failed to approve.

This retreat of the British down the James, followed by Lafayette, was the beginning of that strange contra-dance which the two armies maintained for nine weeks. Sketched upon a map of Virginia, the route they took resembles nothing except the aimless markings of a little child. The zigzag lines extend as far west as the mountains at Charlottesville, as far south as Portsmouth, as far north as Fredericksburg and Culpeper, and end at Yorktown.

Cornwallis had not approved of General Clinton's conduct of the war, believing the British commander-in-chief frittered away his opportunity. Cornwallis said he was "quite tired of marching about the country in search of adventure." The experiences he was to have in Virginia must have greatly added to that weariness.

He sent word to Phillips to join him at Petersburg. General Phillips turned his forces in that direction, but it proved to be his last order. He was already ill and soon lapsed into unconsciousness and died. His death placed Arnold again in command until Cornwallis should arrive. It was during this interval that Arnold took occasion to write Lafayette about prisoners of war. Mindful of his instructions to have nothing to do with Arnold except to punish him, Lafayette refused to receive the letter, saying to the messenger who brought it that he would gladly read a communication from any other British officer. Arnold had a keen interest in the treatment of prisoners—for very personal reasons. A story was current to the effect that one of Lafayette's command who was taken prisoner was questioned by Arnold himself and asked what the Americans would do to him in case he was captured. "Cut off the leg which was wounded in your country's service, and hang the rest of you!" was the prompt reply. The renegade general was not popular in either army. Soon after Cornwallis's arrival he was ordered elsewhere, and his name fades out of history.

Lafayette counted the hours until Wayne should join him, but Cornwallis reached Virginia first, with troops enough to make Lafayette's situation decidedly grave. All the Americans could do was to follow the plan Steuben had adopted before Lafayette's arrival; retreat slowly, removing stores to places of safety whenever possible. General Greene gave Lafayette permission to act independently, but, while this enabled him to make quick decisions, it increased his load of responsibility and did not in the least augment his strength.

In the North he had longed for more to do; here it was different. He wrote Alexander Hamilton, "For the present, my dear friend, my complaint is quite of the opposite nature," and he went on with a half-humorous account of his duties, his situation, and the relative strength of the two armies. The British, he thought, had between four thousand and five thousand men. "We have nine hundred Continentals. Their infantry is near five to one, their cavalry ten to one. Our militia is not numerous, some without arms, and are not used to war." Wayne's men were necessary even to allow the Americans to be beaten "with some decency." "But," he added, "if the Pennsylvanians come, Lord Cornwallis shall pay something for his victory!" The Virginia militia showed symptoms of deserting as harvest-time approached and the call of home duties grew strong. Then there was the danger of contagious disease. "By the utmost care to avoid infected ground, we have hitherto got rid of the smallpox," Lafayette wrote in another letter. "I wish the harvest-time might be as easily got over."

Cornwallis was fully aware of his superior numbers and had a simple plan. "I shall now proceed to dislodge Lafayette from Richmond, and with my light troops to destroy magazines or stores in the neighborhood.... From thence I propose to move to the neck at Williamsburg, which is represented as healthy ... and keep myself unengaged from operations which might interfere with your plan for the campaign until I have the satisfaction of hearing from you," he wrote Clinton. He was very sure that the "aspiring boy," as he contemptuously called Lafayette, could not escape him. But the "boy" had no intention of being beaten—"indecently"—if he could hold out until Wayne arrived. He knew that one false move would be his ruin and there was no wild planning. "Independence has rendered me more cautious, as I know my warmth," he told Hamilton. He knew how to travel swiftly, and sometimes it was necessary to move as swiftly as possible. Even so the British advance might come up just as the last of his little force disappeared. If Cornwallis tried a short cut to head him off, he changed his direction; and more of those apparently aimless lines were traced upon the map.

On the 10th of June Wayne joined him about thirty-five miles west of Fredericksburg. His force was smaller than Lafayette had hoped for, "less than a thousand men in all"; but from that time the Continental troops no longer fled. Indeed, Cornwallis no longer pursued them, but veered off, sending General Tarleton's famous cavalry on a raid toward Charlottesville, where it made prisoners of several members of the Virginia legislature and almost succeeded in capturing Gov. Thomas Jefferson. Another portion of his force turned its attention upon Steuben where he was guarding supplies. But gradually pursuit became retreat and the general direction of the zigzag was back toward the sea. The chances were still uncertain enough to make the game exciting. There was one moment when Lafayette's flank was in imminent danger; his men, however, marched by night along a forgotten wood road and reached safety. Six hundred mounted men who came to join him from neighboring counties were warmly welcomed, for he sorely needed horses. At one time, to get his men forward more speedily for an attack—attacks were increasingly frequent—each horse was made to carry double. After he and General Steuben joined forces on the 19th of June the English and Americans each had about four thousand men, though in the American camp there were only fifteen hundred regulars and fifty dragoons.

Weapons for cavalry were even scarcer than horses. Swords could not be bought in the state; but Lafayette was so intent upon mounted troops that he planned to provide some of them with spears, "which," he argued, "in the hands of a gentleman must be a formidable weapon." Thus reverting to type, as biologists say, this descendant of the Crusaders drove his enemy before him with Crusaders' weapons down the peninsula between the York and the James rivers.

XVIII
YORKTOWN

The battle of Green Springs, the most serious encounter of Lafayette's Virginia campaign, took place on the 6th of July, near Jamestown, when the British, in carrying out this plan, crossed to the south side of the river James. Cornwallis was sure that Lafayette would attack, and arranged an ambush, meaning to lure him with the belief that all except the British rear-guard had passed to the other bank. The ruse only half succeeded, for Lafayette observed that the British clung tenaciously to their position and replaced the officers American riflemen picked off one after the other. Riding out on a point of land, he saw the British soldiers waiting under protection of their guns and spurred back to warn General Wayne, but by that time the battle had opened. Wayne's men suffered most, being nearly surrounded. In a tight place Wayne always preferred "among a choice of difficulties, to advance and charge"; and this was exactly what he did, straight into the British lines. The unexpectedness of it brought success; and in the momentary confusion he fell back to a place of safety. Afterward he had a word to say about Lafayette's personal conduct. Reporting that no officers were killed, though most of them had horses shot or wounded under them, he added: "I will not condole with the Marquis for the loss of two of his, as he was frequently requested to keep at a greater distance. His native bravery rendered him deaf to the admonition."

The British retained the battle-field and the Americans most of the glory, as was the case in so many fights of the Revolution. British military writers have contended that Lafayette was in mortal danger and that Cornwallis could have annihilated his whole force if he had attacked that night. What Cornwallis did was to cross the river next morning and proceed toward Portsmouth. The affair at Green Springs added materially to Lafayette's reputation. Indeed, with the exception of burning a few American stores, increasing Lafayette's military reputation was about all the British accomplished in this campaign. An American officer with a taste for figures gleefully estimated that Cornwallis's "tour in Virginia" cost King George, one way and another, more than would have been needed to take all the British aristocracy on a trip around the world.

Cornwallis got his soldiers safely upon their transports, but it was written in the stars that they were not to leave Virginia of their own free will. Orders came from Clinton telling him not to send them north, and giving him to understand that his recent acts were not approved. Clinton directed him to establish himself in a healthy spot on the peninsula between the York and James rivers and to gain control of a seaport to which British ships could come. He suggested Old Point Comfort, but Cornwallis's engineers decided that Yorktown, with the neck of land opposite called Gloucester, was the only place that would serve. Here Cornwallis brought his army on the 1st of August and began building defenses.

Following the battle of Green Springs, Lafayette occupied Williamsburg and gave his men the rest they needed after their many weeks of marching. He sent out detachments on various errands, but this was a season of comparative quiet. Soon he began to long for excitement, and wrote to Washington that he did not know about anything that was happening in the world outside of Virginia, that he was homesick for headquarters, and that if he could not be there to help in the defense of New York, at least he would like to know what was going on. The answer only whetted his curiosity. Washington bade him await a confidential letter explaining his plans.

The military situation as Washington saw it was exceedingly interesting. Colonel Laurens's mission to the French court had turned out badly. Perhaps he had not taken sufficiently to heart Lafayette's advice; but young Rochambeau had not fared much better. In May it had been learned that there was never to be any second division of the French army; a blow that was softened by the assurance that considerable money was actually on the way and that a French fleet, which had sailed for the West Indies under command of Comte de Grasse, might visit the coast of the United States for a short time.

It was the approach of this French fleet which caused Clinton uneasiness in New York and made Cornwallis embark part of his troops for the North. Washington took good care to let Clinton rest in the belief that New York was to be attacked, but it became increasingly evident to him that the greatest blow he could strike would be to capture Cornwallis's army. He arranged with Admiral de Grasse to sail to Chesapeake Bay instead of to New York, sent word to Lafayette to be on the lookout for the French fleet, moved Rochambeau's soldiers from Newport to the Hudson, left a sufficient number of them there and started south with all the rest of the army, moving with the greatest possible speed. Those of us who have read about this merely as long past history do not realize the risks involved in planning such far-reaching combinations in days before cables and telegraph lines.

"To blockade Rhode Island, fool Clinton, shut him up in New York, and keep Cornwallis in Virginia," says a French writer, "it was necessary to send from the port of Brest and later from the Antilles to Chesapeake Bay a flotilla destined to take from the English all hope of retreat and embarkation at the exact instant that Washington, Rochambeau, and Lafayette should come and force the English in their last intrenchments. This grand project which decided the outcome of the war could be conceived only by men of superior talent." Lafayette's friend, De Ségur, said that "it required all the audacity of Admiral Comte de Grasse and the skill of Washington, sustained by the bravery of Lafayette, the wisdom of Rochambeau, the heroic intrepidity of our sailors and our troops, as well as the valor of the American militia."

Fortunately the geography of the Atlantic coast helped Washington keep his secret even after he was well started. If De Grasse came to New York, Washington's logical goal was Staten Island, and the route of the Continental army would be the same in either case for a long distance. After Philadelphia had been left behind and Washington's plan became evident, it was too late for Clinton to stop him.

Thus the net tightened about Cornwallis. French ships in the bay effectually cut off hope of reinforcement or escape by sea. Lafayette stationed Wayne where he could interpose if the British attempted to go by land toward the Carolinas. He sent his faithful friend, De Gimat, down the bay to meet the French admiral and give him information, and disposed his own forces to cover the landing of any soldiers De Grasse might bring him.

It must have been a fine sight when twenty-eight large ships of the line and four French frigates sailed up the James River on the 2d of September and landed three thousand soldiers, "all very tall men" in uniforms of white turned up with blue. Lafayette's Americans, drawn up not far from the battleground of Green Springs, donned their ragged best in their honor. "Our men had orders to wash and put on clean clothes," a diary informs us.

With this addition to his force Lafayette approached Yorktown. General Saint-Simon, the commander of the three thousand very tall men, was much older than Lafayette, besides being a marshal of France, but he gallantly signified his willingness to serve under his junior; and officers and privates alike accepted cheerfully the scanty American fare, which was all Lafayette could get for his enlarged military family. He found difficulty in collecting even this and wrote Washington that his duties as quartermaster had brought on violent headache and fever, but that the indisposition would vanish with three hours' needed sleep.

In spite of their politeness it was evident that the visitors were anxious to be through with their task and away. Admiral de Grasse had a rendezvous for a certain date in the West Indies and insisted from the first that his stay in American waters must be short. The French were scarcely inclined to await the arrival of Washington; yet with all Washington's haste he had only reached Chester, Pennsylvania, on the way to Head of Elk when he heard of De Grasse's arrival. Those who were with him when the news came were more impressed by the way he received it than by the news itself. His reserve and dignity fell from him like a garment, and his face beamed like that of a delighted child as he stood on the river-bank waving his hat in the air and shouting the glad tidings to Rochambeau.

When Washington reached Williamsburg on the 13th of September he found both Lafayette and General Wayne the worse for wear. Wayne, with characteristic impetuosity, had tried to pass one of Lafayette's sentries after dark and was nursing a slight wound in consequence. Lafayette's quartermaster headache had developed into an attack of ague; but that did not prevent his being present at the ceremonies which marked the official meeting of the allied commanders. There were all possible salutes and official visits, and, in addition, at a grand supper a band played a kind of music seldom heard in America in those days—the overture to a French opera "signifying the happiness of a family when blessed with the presence of their father."

Washington's arrival of course put an end to Lafayette's independent command. With the Commander-in-chief present he became again what he had been the previous summer, merely the commander of a division of light infantry, and as such took part in the siege of Yorktown, which progressed unfalteringly. The night of October 14th witnessed its most dramatic incident, the taking of two redoubts, one by French troops, the other by Americans under Lafayette. Among his officers were Gimat, John Laurens, and Alexander Hamilton. Six shells in rapid succession gave the signal to advance, and his four hundred men obeyed under fire without returning a shot, so rapidly that the place was taken at the point of the bayonet in a very few minutes. Lafayette's first care was to send an aide with his compliments and a message to Baron Viomenil, the French commander, whose troops were still attacking; the message being that the Americans had gained their redoubt and would gladly come to his assistance if he desired it. This was a bit of vainglory, for Viomenil had nettled Lafayette by doubting if his Americans could succeed. On the night of October 15th the British attempted a sortie which failed. After an equally unsuccessful attempt to escape by water, Cornwallis felt that there was no more hope, for his works were crumbling and, in addition to his loss in killed and wounded, many of his men were sick. He wrote a short note to Washington asking for an armistice to arrange terms of surrender.

The time of surrender was fixed for two o'clock on the afternoon of October 19, 1781. Lafayette had suggested that Cornwallis's bands be required to play a British or a German air when the soldiers marched to lay down their arms. This was in courteous retaliation for the treatment our own troops had received at British hands at the surrender of Charleston, when they had been forbidden to play such music. It was to the tune of "The World Turned Upside Down" that they chose to march with colors cased, between the long lines of French and Americans drawn up on the Hampton Road, to a field where a squadron of French had spread out to form a huge circle. The French on one side of the road under their flag with the golden fleur-de-lis were resplendent in uniforms of white turned up with blue. The Americans were less imposing. In the militia regiments toward the end of their line scarcely a uniform was to be seen, but at their head Washington and his officers, superbly mounted, stood opposite Rochambeau and the other French generals. Eye-witnesses thought that the British showed disdain of the ragged American soldiers and a marked preference for the French, but acts of discourtesy were few, and the higher officers conducted themselves as befitted gentlemen. Cornwallis did not appear to give up his sword, but sent General O'Hara to represent him, and it was received on Washington's part by General Lincoln, who had given up his sword to the British at Charleston.

As each British regiment reached the field where the French waited it laid down its arms at the command of its colonel and marched back to Yorktown, prisoners of war. The cheeks of one colonel were wet with tears as he gave the order, and a corporal was heard to whisper to his musket as he laid it down, "May you never get so good a master!" Care was taken not to add to the humiliation of the vanquished by admitting sightseers, and all agree that there was no cheering or exulting. "Universal silence was observed," says General "Lighthorse Harry" Lee, who was there. "The utmost decency prevailed, exhibiting in demeanor an awful sense of the vicissitudes of human life, mingled with commiseration for the unhappy." There was more than commiseration; there was real friendliness. Rochambeau, learning that Cornwallis was without money, lent him all he needed. Dinners were given at which British officers were the guests of honor; and we have Lafayette's word for it that "every sort of politeness" was shown.

Washington's aide, Colonel Tilghman, rode at top speed to Philadelphia with news of the surrender, reaching there after midnight on the 24th. He met a watchman as he entered the city, and bade him show him the way to the house of the president of Congress. The watchman, of course, learned the great news, and while Tilghman roused the high official, the watchman, who was a patriot, though he had a strong German accent, continued his rounds, calling, happily:

"Basht dree o'glock, und Corn-wal-lis isht da-a-ken!"

XIX
"THE WINE OF HONOR"

About the time that Colonel Tilghman rode into Philadelphia a large British fleet appeared just outside of Chesapeake Bay, thirty-one ships one day and twenty-five more the next; but they were too late. As a French officer remarked, "The chicken was already eaten," and two days later the last sail had disappeared. The surrender of Cornwallis cost England the war, but nobody could be quite sure of it at that time. Washington hoped the French admiral would still help him by taking American troops south, either to reinforce General Greene near Charleston or for operations against Wilmington, North Carolina. Two days after the fall of Yorktown, when Washington made a visit of thanks to De Grasse upon his flagship, Lafayette accompanied his chief; and after Washington took leave Lafayette stayed for further consultation, it being Washington's plan to give Lafayette command of this expedition against Wilmington in case it should be decided upon. The young general came ashore in high spirits, sure that two thousand American soldiers could sail for North Carolina within the next ten days. Reflection, however, showed the admiral many obstacles, chief of them being that he had positive orders to meet a Spanish admiral in the West Indies on a certain day, now very near. Taking troops to Wilmington might delay him only a few hours, but on the other hand contrary winds might lengthen the time to two weeks, in which case he would have to sail off to the rendezvous, carrying the whole American expedition with him. After thinking it over, he politely but firmly refused. Reinforcements for General Greene were sent by land under command of another officer, the expedition to Wilmington was given up, and Lafayette rode away to Philadelphia to ask leave of Congress to spend the following winter in Paris. This was readily granted in resolutions which cannily combined anticipation of future favors with thanks for the service he had already rendered.

Once more he sailed from Boston on the Alliance. This time the voyage was short and lacked the exciting features of his previous trip on her. Wishing to surprise his wife, he landed at Lorient and posted to Paris with such haste that he arrived quite unexpectedly on the 21st of January, to find an empty house, Adrienne being at the moment at the Hotel de Ville, attending festivities in honor of the unfortunate little Dauphin. When the news of her husband's return finally reached her on the breath of the crowd she was separated from her home by streets in such happy turmoil that she could not hope to reach the Hotel de Noailles for hours. Marie Antoinette hastened this journey's end in a lovers' meeting in right queenly fashion by holding up a royal procession and sending Madame Lafayette home in her own carriage. Accounts written at the time tell how the husband heard his wife's voice and flew to the door, how she fell into his arms half fainting with emotion, and how he carried her inside and the great doors closed while the crowd in the street applauded. What happened after that we do not know, except that he found other members of his family strangely altered. "My daughter and your George have grown so much that I find myself older than I thought," the father wrote Washington.

Paris set about celebrating his return with enthusiasm. A private letter which made much of the queen's graciousness to Madame Lafayette remarked as of lesser moment that a numerous and joyous band of "poissards," which we may translate "the rabble," brought branches of laurel to the Hôtel de Noailles. A prima donna offered him the same tribute at the opera, but in view of later happenings this homage of the common people was quite as significant. In vaudeville they sang topical songs about him; pretty ladies frankly showed him their favor; the ancient order of Masons, of which he was a member, gave him the welcome reserved for heroes; and he was wined and dined to an extent that only a man blessed with his strong digestion could have withstood. One of these dinners was given by the dissolute old Maréchal de Richelieu, nephew of the famous cardinal, and to this were bidden "all the maréchals of France," who drank Washington's health with fervor and bade the guest of honor convey to him "their homage."

It had been more than a century since France won a victory over England comparable to this capture of Cornwallis, and national pride and exultation were plainly apparent in the honors bestowed upon the returned soldier. "Your name is held in veneration," Vergennes assured him. "It required a great deal of skill to maintain yourself as you did, for so long a time, in spite of the disparity of your forces, before Lord Cornwallis, whose military talents are well known." And the new Minister of War, M. de Ségur, father of Lafayette's boyhood friend, informed him that as "a particular and flattering favor" the king had been pleased to make him a marshal of France, his commission dating from the 18th of October. This rank corresponded to that of major-general in the American army, and Lafayette was to assume it at the end of the American war. There were officers in the army who did not approve of this honor. They could not see that Lafayette had done anything to warrant making a French colonel into a major-general overnight and over the heads of officers of higher rank. They were quite sure they would have done as well had the opportunity come their way. Kings do not often reward subjects for services rendered a foreign nation; and the part that strikes us as odd is that Lafayette had been fighting against monarchy, the very form of government his own king represented. But Lafayette's life abounded in such contradictions.

His popularity was no nine days' affair. Franklin found it of very practical use. "He gains daily in public esteem and affection, and promises to be a great man in his own country," the American wrote, after Lafayette had been back for some weeks, adding, "he has been truly useful to me in my efforts to obtain increased assistance." Before the young hero arrived Franklin had found it difficult to arrange a new American loan, but with such enthusiasm sweeping Paris it was almost easy. The town went quite wild. John Ledyard, the American explorer, who was there at the time, wrote: "I took a walk to Paris this morning and saw the Marquis de Lafayette. He is a good man, this same marquis. I esteem him: I even love him, and so do we all, except some who worship." Then he added, "If I find in my travels a mountain as much elevated above other mountains as he is above ordinary men, I will name it Lafayette."

Envoys to discuss peace had already reached Paris, but it was not at all certain that England would give up the contest without one more campaign. To be on the safe side it was planned to send a combined fleet of French and Spanish ships convoying twenty-four thousand soldiers to the West Indies to attack the English island of Jamaica. Ships and men were to be under command of Admiral d'Estaing, who wished Lafayette to go with him as chief-of-staff. After the work was done in the West Indies D'Estaing would sail northward and detach six thousand troops to aid a revolution in Canada, a project Lafayette had never wholly abandoned. The expedition was to sail from Cadiz, and Lafayette was already in Spain with part of the French force when he learned that the preliminary treaty of peace had been signed at Versailles on January 20, 1782. He longed to carry the news to America himself, but was told that he could do much in Spain to secure advantageous trade agreements between that country and the United States. So he contented himself with borrowing a vessel from the fleet that was now without a destination, and sending two letters by it. One, very dignified in tone, was addressed to Congress. The other, to Washington, was joyously personal. "If you were a mere man like Cæsar or the King of Prussia," he wrote, "I would almost regret, on your account, to see the end of the tragedy in which you have played so grand a role. But I rejoice with you, my dear General, in this peace which fulfils all my desires.... What sentiments of pride and joy I feel in thinking of the circumstances which led to my joining the American cause!... I foresee that my grandchildren will be envied when they celebrate and honor your name. To have had one of their ancestors among your soldiers, to know that he had the good fortune to be the friend of your heart, will be the eternal honor that shall glorify them; and I will bequeath to the eldest among them, so long as my posterity shall endure, the favor you have been pleased to bestow upon my son George."

The ship on which these letters were sent was called, appropriately, La Triomphe; and, as he hoped, it did actually carry the news of peace to America, reaching port ahead of all others.

For himself, he remained in Spain, doing what he could for America. The things he witnessed there made him a better republican than ever. He wrote to his aunt that the grandees of the court looked rather small, "especially when I saw them upon their knees." Absolute power, exercised either by monarchs or subjects, was becoming more and more distasteful to him. The injustice of negro slavery, for example, wrung his heart. In the very letter to Washington announcing peace he wrote: "Now that you are to taste a little repose, permit me to propose to you a plan that may become vastly useful to the black portion of the human race. Let us unite in buying a little property where we can try to enfranchise the negroes and employ them merely as farm laborers." He did buy a plantation called Belle Gabrielle in Cayenne, French Guiana, and lavished money and thought upon it. It was an experiment in which his wife heartily joined, sending out teachers for the black tenantry and making their souls and morals her special care. The French Revolution put an end to this, as it did to so many enterprises; and it seems a bitter jest of fortune that when Lafayette's property was seized these poor creatures were sold back again into slavery—in the name of Freedom and Equality.

In March, 1783, Lafayette took his wife to Chavaniac, possibly for the first time. One of the two aunts who made the old manor-house their home had just died, leaving the other desolate. While Adrienne won the affections of the lonely old lady, her husband set about improving the condition of the peasants on the estate. Bad harvests had brought about great scarcity of food. His manager proudly showed his granaries full of wheat, remarking, "Monsieur le Marquis, now is the time to sell." The answer, "No, this is the time to give away," left the worthy steward breathless. Whether Lafayette's philanthropies would win the approval of social workers to-day we do not know. The list of enterprises sounds well. During the next few years he built roads, brought an expert from England to demonstrate new methods in agriculture, imported tools and superior breeds of animals, established a weekly market and an annual fair, started the weaving industry and a school to teach it, and established a resident physician to look after the health of his tenants. He was popular with them. On his arrival he was met in the town of Rion by a procession headed by musicians and the town officials, who ceremoniously presented "the wine of honor" and were followed by local judges in red robes who "made him compliments," while the people cried, "Vive Lafayette!" and danced and embraced, "almost without knowing one another." A few weeks later the tenants from a neighboring manor came bringing him a draught of wine from their town, and expressing the wish that they might come under his rule. This he was able to gratify a few years later, when he bought the estate.

In May, 1783, Lafayette realized the long-cherished dream of having a home of his own. The Hôtel de Noailles was very grand and very beautiful, and while he was away fighting it was by far the best place for Adrienne and the children; but it belonged to her people, not to him. From camps he had written her about this home they were some day to have together; and now that he had returned to France to stay they bought a house in the rue de Bourbon and set up their domestic altar there. They had three children; for a daughter had been born to them in the previous September. Like George, she was as American as her father could make her. "I have taken the liberty of naming her Virginia," he wrote General Washington. Benjamin Franklin, to whom he also announced the new arrival, hoped he would have children enough to name one after each state of the Union.

In May, also, something happened which must have pleased Lafayette deeply. He was given the Cross of Saint-Louis, the military decoration his father had worn; and the man who received him into the order was his father-in-law, the Duc d'Ayen, who had so bitterly opposed his going to America.

With large estates in the country, a new house in town, a list of acquaintances which included everybody worth knowing in Paris and more notables in foreign countries than even he could write to or receive letters from, and a keen interest in the politics, philanthropy, and commerce of two hemispheres, he might have passed for a busy man. Yet he found time for an entirely new enthusiasm. A German doctor named Mesmer had made what he believed to be important discoveries in a new force and a new mode of healing, called animal magnetism. Lafayette enrolled himself as a pupil. "I know as much as ever a sorcerer knew!" he wrote enthusiastically to Washington. On paying his initiation fee of a hundred golden louis he had signed a paper promising not to reveal these secrets to any prince, community, government, or individual without Mesmer's written consent, but the disciple was eager to impart his knowledge to his great friend and hoped to gain permission. Louis XVI was satirical. "What will Washington think when he learns that you have become first apothecary boy to Mesmer?" he asked.

Lafayette was planning a visit to America and sent a message to Mrs. Washington that he hoped "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 vessel will your friend jump, with a panting heart and all the feelings of perfect happiness." He did indeed make the visit during the summer of 1784, though a few weeks later than June. Whether they had time during his ten days at Mount Vernon to talk about Mesmer history does not state. The hours must have been short for all the things clamoring to be said. Then Lafayette made a tour that carried him to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, as far west as Fort Schuyler, for another treaty-making powwow with his red brothers the Indians, and south to Yorktown. Everywhere bells pealed and balls and dinners were given. Before he turned his face toward France he had a few more quiet days at Mount Vernon with Washington, who accompanied him on his homeward way as far as Annapolis. At parting the elder man gave him a tender letter for Adrienne, and on the way back to Mount Vernon wrote the words of farewell which proved prophetic: "I have often asked myself, since 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."

Washington lived fourteen years longer; but in the mean time the storm of the French Revolution broke and everything that had seemed enduring in Lafayette's life was wrecked. Until that storm burst letters and invitations and presents flashed across the see as freely as though propelled by Mesmer's magic fluid. Mrs. Washington sent succulent Virginia hams to figure at dinners given by the Lafayettes in Paris. A picture of the household in the rue de Bourbon has come down to us written by a young officer to his mother:

"I seemed to be in America rather than in Paris. Numbers of English and Americans were present, for he speaks English as he does French. He has an American Indian in native costume for a footman. This savage calls him only 'father.' Everything is simple in his home. Marmontel and the Abbé Morrolet were dinner guests. Even the little girls spoke English as well as French, though they are very small. They played in English, and laughed with the Americans. This would have made charming subjects for English engravings."

Lafayette on his part sent many things to that house on the banks of the Potomac. He sent his friends, and a letter from him was an infallible open sesame. He sent his own accounts of journeys and interviews. He sent animals and plants that he thought would interest Washington, the farmer. Asses, for example, which were hard to get in America, and rare varieties of seeds. In time he sent the key of the Bastille. But that, as romancers say, is "another story," and opens another chapter in Lafayette's life.

XX
THE PASSING OF OLD FRANCE

It was certainly not without malice that he seated the young French general at his table between two other guests, Lord Cornwallis and the Duke of York; and in the course of long dinners amused himself by asking Lafayette questions about Washington and the American campaigns. Lafayette answered with his customary ardor, singing praises of his general and even venturing to praise republicanism in a manner that irritated the old monarch.

"Monsieur!" Frederick interrupted him in such a flight. "I once knew a young man who visited countries where liberty and equality reigned. After he got home he took it into his head to establish them in his own country. Do you know what happened?"

"No, Sire."

"He was hanged!" the old man replied, with a sardonic grin. It was plain he liked Lafayette or he would not have troubled to give him the warning.

Lafayette continued his journey to Prague and Vienna and Dresden, where he saw other soldiers put through their drill. Then he returned to Potsdam for the final grand maneuvers under the personal direction of Frederick, but a sudden acute attack of gout racked his kingly old bones, and the exercises which, in his clockwork military system, could no more be postponed than the movements of the planets, were carried out by the heir apparent, to Lafayette's great disappointment. He wrote Washington that the prince was "a good officer, an honest fellow, a man of sense," but that he would never have the talent of his two uncles. As for the Prussian army, it was a wonderful machine, but "if the resources of France, the vivacity of her soldiers, the intelligence of her officers, the national ambition and moral delicacy were applied to a system worked out with equal skill, we would as far excel the Prussians as our army is now inferior to theirs—which is saying a great deal!"

Vive la France! Vivent moral distinctions! He may not have realized it, but Lafayette was all his life more interested in justice than in war.

Almost from the hour of his last return from America the injustice with which French Protestants were treated filled him with indignation. Though not openly persecuted, they were entirely at the mercy of official caprice. Legally their marriages were not valid; they could not make wills; their rights as citizens were attacked on every side. To use Lafayette's expression, they were "stricken with civil death." He became their champion.

Everybody knew that very radical theories had been applauded in France for many years, even by the men who condemned them officially. Dislike of liberal actions, however, was still strong, as Lafayette found when he attempted to help these people. His interest in them was treated as an amiable weakness which might be overlooked in view of his many good qualities, but should on no account be encouraged. "It is a work which requires time and is not without some inconvenience to me, because nobody is willing to give me one word of writing or to uphold me in any way. I must run my chance," he wrote Washington. He did, however, get permission from one of the king's ministers to go to Languedoc, where Protestants were numerous, in order to study their condition and know just what it was he advocated. Evidence that he gathered thus at first hand he used officially two years later before the Assembly of Notables. So his championship of the French Protestants marks the beginning of this new chapter in Lafayette's life, his entrance into French politics.

Outwardly the condition of the country remained much as it had been; but discontent had made rapid progress during the years of Lafayette's stay in America. An answer attributed to the old Maréchal de Richelieu sums up the change. The old reprobate had been ill and Louis XVI, with good intentions, but clumsy cruelty, congratulated him on his recovery. "For," said the king, "you are not young. You have seen three ages." "Rather," growled the duke, "three reigns!" "Well, what do you think of them?" "Sire, under Louis XIV nobody dared say a word; under Louis XV they spoke in whispers; under your Majesty they speak loudly."

This education in discontent had proceeded under three teachers: extravagance, hunger, and the success of America's war of independence. Louis really desired to see his people happy and prosperous. He had made an attempt at reforms, early in his reign, but, having neither a strong will nor a strong mind, it speedily lapsed. Even under his own eyes at Versailles many abuses continued, merely because they had become part of the cumbersome court etiquette which Frederick II had condemned back in the days of Louis's grandfather. Many other abuses had increased without even the pretense of reforming them. There was increased personal extravagance among the well-to-do; increased extortion elsewhere. Tax-collectors were still going about shutting their eyes to the wealth of men who had influence and judging the peasants as coldly as they would judge cattle. In one district they were fat; they must pay a heavier tax. Chicken feathers were blowing about on the ground? That meant the people had poultry to eat; the screw could be given another vigorous turn. Among all classes there seemed to be less and less money to spend. With the exception of a few bankers and merchants, everybody from the king down felt poor. The peasants felt hungry. The poor in cities actually were very hungry; almost all the nobles were deeply in debt. In short, the forces for good and ill which had already honeycombed the kingdom when Lafayette was a boy had continued their work, gnawing upward and downward and through the social fabric until only a very thin and brittle shell remained. And, as the Maréchal de Richelieu pointedly reminded his weak king, people were no longer afraid to talk aloud about these things.

The success of the Revolution in America had done much to remove the ban of silence. Loans made by France had added to the scarcity of money; and it was these loans which had brought America success. The people across the ocean had wiped the slate clean and begun afresh. Why not follow their example? In the winter of 1782, when Paris was suffering from the Russian influenza, a lady with a clever tongue and the eye of a prophet had said, "We are threatened with another malady which will come from America—the Independenza!" Thoughtful people were beginning to believe that a change was only a matter of time; but that it would come slowly and stretch over many years.

Meanwhile the months passed and the glittering outer shell of the old order of things continued to glitter. Lafayette divided his time between Paris, the court, and Chavaniac. He made at least one journey in the brilliant retinue of the king. He dined and gave dinners. He did everything in his power to increase commerce with the United States. He took part in every public movement for reform, and instituted small private ones of his own. One of these was to ask the king to revoke a pension of seven hundred and eighty livres that had been granted him when he was a mere baby, and to divide it between a retired old infantry officer and a worthy widow of Auvergne. Incidentally people seemed to like him in spite of his republicanism. It was no secret to any one that he had come home from America a thorough believer in popular government.

His fame was by no means confined to France and the lands lying to the west of it. Catherine II of Russia became curious to see this much-talked-of person and invited him to St. Petersburg. Learning that she was soon to start for the Crimea, he asked leave to pay his respects to her there; but that was a journey he never made. Before he could set out Louis XVI called a meeting of the Assembly of Notables, to take place on February 22, 1787. This was in no true sense a parliament; only a body of one hundred and forty-four men who held no offices at court, selected arbitrarily by the king to discuss such subjects as he chose to set before it. The subject was to be taxation, how to raise money for government expenses, a burning question with every one.

Deliberative assemblies were no new thing in France. Several times in long-past history a king had called together representative men of the nobles, the clergy, and even of the common people, to consider questions of state and help bring about needed reforms. Such gatherings were known as States General. But they had belonged to a time before the kings were quite sure of their power, and it was one hundred and seventy years since the last one had been called. Little by little, in the mean time, even the provincial parliaments, of which there were several in different parts of France, had been sapped of strength and vitality. There was a tendency now to revive them. Lafayette had stopped in Rennes on his way home from Brest after his last trip across the Atlantic, to attend such a gathering in Brittany, where he owned estates, his mother having been a Breton. Favoring representative government as he did, he was anxious to see such assemblages meet frequently at regular intervals.

The call for the Assembly of Notables had come about in an unexpected way. Some years before, the Minister of Finance, Necker, had printed a sort of treasurer's report showing how public funds had been spent. This was a great novelty, such questions having been shrouded in deepest mystery. Everybody who could read read Necker's report. It was seen on the dressing-tables of ladies and sticking out of the pockets of priests. Necker had meant it to pave the way for reforms, because he believed in cutting down expenses instead of imposing more taxes. It roused such a storm of discussion and criticism that he was driven from the Cabinet; after which his successor, M. Calonne, "a veritable Cagliostro of finance," managed to juggle for four years with facts and figures before the inevitable day of reckoning came. This left the country much worse off than it had been when he took office; so badly off, in fact, that the king called together the Assembly of Notables.

By an odd coincidence it held its first meeting at Versailles on a date forever linked in American minds with ideas of popular liberty—the 22d of February. For practical work, it was divided into seven sections or committees, each one of which was presided over by a royal prince. If the intention had been to check liberal tendencies among its members, the effort was vain. The spirit of independence was in it, and it refused to solve the king's financial riddles for him.