of life—that interested him from the first. Lafayette was against whatever stood for tyranny, against whatever appeared to be an institution that could foster despotism. He believed that the well-being of society would be advanced by giving the utmost freedom to all, high and low, educated and uneducated. He saw a world in chains only waiting for some hero to come along and strike off the fetters.

Where did Lafayette, a born aristocrat, get these ideas? Certainly not from the peasants as they knelt beside the road when he, their prospective liege lord, rode by. He was brought up to believe that it was the sacred privilege of the ruling class to throw largesse to the poor, who stood aside, waiting and expectant, to receive the gifts.

It is hard to say where Lafayette imbibed his love of freedom. One might as well ask where that "wild yeast in the air" comes from that used to make the bread rise without "emptins." There was a "wild yeast in the air" in the France of 1760 and 1770, and all the young people of that country, whether highborn or lowborn, were feeling the ferment.

If Lafayette had pursued the course that his circumstances urged, he would soon have crystallized into a narrow, subservient character, without purpose or ideals. By all the standards of his time, he would be thought to be throwing away his life if he should take steps to alienate himself from the glittering, laughing, sympathetic friends who stood about him at court. All advancement for him appeared to be in line with the influences there. But if he had done this, if he had followed the star of court preferment, he would have remained only one of many highly polished nonentities—and would have lost his head at last. By throwing away his life, by choosing the way of self-sacrifice, he won the whole world; by throwing away his world, the natural world of compliance and ease about him, he won a world, nay, two worlds. He became what Mirabeau named him, the "hero of two worlds."

CHAPTER IV

The Great Inspiration

IN the summer of 1775 Lafayette was stationed at the French garrison of Metz, where the Prince de Poix commanded the regiment "de Noailles." While he was there the Duke of Gloucester, brother of George III, king of England, came to that city and was present at a dinner given in his honor at the house of the governor of the garrison, the Count de Broglie. This count was a person of great sympathy and discernment. He had been observing the tall, red-haired boy of quiet, assured manner and few words, who represented so distinguished a family and gave so great promise for a future career. Eighteen years before he had seen this boy's father fall in battle, so he had a special interest in him. He now included young Lafayette among the guests at the dinner.

It appears that the Duke of Gloucester had just received letters from England telling about the revolt of the American colonies against the British government—about their prejudice in the little matter of a tax on tea, and about the strong measures to be taken by the English ministry to crush the rebellion. As the Duke of Gloucester was not on very good terms with his brother, King George, he told the story with somewhat vindictive glee.

This was probably the first that Lafayette had heard of American independence. Instantly his sympathy was touched to the quick. All the warlike and chivalric sentiments that he had inherited, all that had been carefully instilled by family tradition and by education, rose at once to the highest intensity. To the long and eager conversations that followed the news brought by the guest of the evening, Lafayette eagerly listened, and afterwards requested the duke to explain the situation more fully. His curiosity was deeply excited, his heart was at once enlisted. The idea of a people fighting against oppression stirred his imagination. From what he learned from the duke, the cause appealed to his sense of justice; it seemed the noblest that could be offered to the judgment of man. Before he left the table he had determined in his own mind to go to America and offer himself to the people who were struggling for freedom and independence.

From that moment his purpose was fixed. To realize his design he must go at once to Paris. Arriving there, he confided his plan to his two friends, the Viscount de Noailles and the Count de Ségur, inviting them to share his project. Noailles had just turned nineteen, and Ségur was twenty-two; Lafayette was eighteen. But the youngest differed from the others in one respect; he had already come into his fortune, and controlled an income of about two thousand livres, an amount that in purchasing power represented a fortune such as few young men in any country or at any time have commanded. The others could contribute nothing to Lafayette's plans but cordial sympathy. They did indeed go so far as to consult their parents, expressing their desire to join in Lafayette's chivalrous adventure, but their parents promptly and emphatically refused consent.

The surprise of the Noailles family can be imagined when they heard that the quiet, reserved youth had suddenly decided to cross the sea and take up the fragile cause of a few colonists revolting against a great monarchy. It was not long before all came to admit that the soul of the big boy had in it a goodness and a valor that nothing could daunt.

Many, however, who heard about the project Lafayette entertained felt a new admiration for the spirited boy. One of these smartly said that if Madame de Lafayette's father, the Duc d'Ayen, could have the heart to thwart such a son-in-law, he ought never to hope to marry off his remaining daughters! It made no difference to this lordly family that the tidings of the American revolt were echoing through Europe and awakening emotions that those monarchies had never experienced before; nor did they notice that the young nobility of France were feeling the thrill of a call to serve in a new cause. They were blind to those signs of the times; and no one dared to speak of them to the Duke d'Ayen, for he, with the other ruling members of the family, violently opposed Lafayette's plan.

While these things were going on, word came that those audacious colonists had carried their project so far as to issue a Declaration of Independence of the British government and to set up for themselves as a nation. The Noailles family were amazed, but they could not change their point of view.

Not being able to unravel all the threads of destiny that were enmeshing him, Lafayette was working in the dark, only knowing that he wanted to go, and that he could not bring himself to give up the project. He knew also that he must depend solely upon himself. Then there came into his mind the motto that he had since boyhood seen upon the shield of one of his famous ancestors in the castle at Chaviniac—"Cur non," Why not? He adopted this motto for his own and placed it as a device upon his coat of arms, that it might be an encouragement to himself as well as an answer to the objections of others.

Lafayette consulted his commander and relative, the Count de Broglie. He on his part did all he could to dissuade the lad; he pointed out that the scheme was Utopian; he showed up its great hazards; he said that there was no advantage to be had in going to the aid of those insignificant rebels—that there was no glory to be gained. Lafayette listened respectfully and said that he hoped his relative would not betray his confidence; for, as soon as he could arrange it, go to America he would! The Count de Broglie promised not