do you feel equally satisfied as to that ?"

"Yes; because unless I greatly deceive myself, there is that which is by far the most essential part of likeness, and also the most difficult to catch."

"And pray what may that be? for I suppose you have some particular name for it."

"Merely a very homely monosyllable-Look! This implies more than resemblance of features alone, it meaning the characteristic expression of the whole countenance, including that of the person also. As to achieve this is one of the greatest difficulties of portraiture, so, when achieved, it imparts a force of life and verity to a picture that makes itself instantly felt, whether we happen to know the original or not."

"Without doubt. Yet how do you reconcile such degree of individual truth with that intermixture of the ideal which, according to some, ought to be aimed at, even in portraiture at least in the higher walks of it ?"

"Very easily; because in such works the ideal does not consist in the abstraction of individual likeness, but in concentrating into a focus, as it were, all the separate personal traits, so as thereby to produce a more vivid impression, and, if I may so style it, a more intense and poetic likeness than an exact transcript from the original, at any single instant, would afford. Such, at least, is my interpretation of the matter."

"In other words, you mean to say that the ideal is attained in portrai

ture when the countenance and the ensemble are rendered the index of the mind and disposition, those latent workings of them being drawn out, which, though intuitively felt by all (for we are all more or less physiognomists by nature), are so vague and shifting, that it requires consummate mastery of both hand and eye to define them upon canvass."

"Your ladyship has explained it most felicitously, perhaps almost too well, since you will now be trying my performance by a test it will hardly endure."

"You need not be apprehensive; if it will but endure the test of my own mirror, I shall be perfectly satisfied. As to what the critics will say of your work, that is entirely your affair, Sir T- none of mine."

Depend upon it there is that in this picture which will mollify the most Cerberus - tempered critic of them all."

"Well, then, since it is determined that I am to be hanged-that is, hung up in effigy at Somerset House, I have only to request that your hanging committee will perform their office as gently as possible, and rather with proper consideration for my humility than for the exalted merits of your performance. I assure you, Sir T, I have no ambition to be exalted to a level with the uppermost ranks in your Great Room, but shall be well content with a place among the middling classes. So I hope to be put as near your equator -your line, you call it as possible."

CANDIDUS.

WHEN first I saw Lafayette, he had arrived at that period of life so exquisitely portrayed by the

Preacher," "When the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened." Born in 1757, he had arrived at the good old age of seventy-two when in 1829 I first looked on him in the Chamber of Deputies. And yet although the events which he had witnessed, and the transactions in which his life had been mixed up, had been of so exciting and extraordinary a character as to have bowed to the earth any man of sensibility and enthusiasm, he appeared calm and composed though the thunder of an approaching revolution might once more be heard in the distance, and though all was commotion, anxiety, and apprehension. And, as I looked on his time-beaten face, and thought of his surprising career,- -as I called to my memory the rage, vehemence, disorder, anarchy, regicide, bloodshed, war, and rapine, he had witnessed, I asked myself this question, "What can be the reason of, or to what are we to ascribe the fact, that Lafayette is even still in the vigour of life, in perfect enjoyment of all his faculties, untouched by events which would have paralysed and subdued the majority of mankind; and how is it that there he is, talking with his old friends, Lamarque and Salverte, quite as gay as if he were seventeen instead of seventy-two, and quite as composed and satisfied as if France were in a state of calm instead of agitation, and of confidence instead of anxiety?" And really there was but one way in which I could account for such results; and that was, that Lafayette seldom, if ever, allowed public events to disturb his private and family repose. The common saying, "That such a man takes no

thing to heart," so perfectly expresses that which I distinctly mean to affirm of Lafayette, that, at the risk of being accused of adopting a vulgarism, I do not hesitate to apply it to his character. I am aware that in the earlier years of his life some acts which I cannot but commend appeared to denote an amount of enthusiasm and of heart which would go far to neutralise this explanation; but when those acts and his own defence come to be examined a little closely, it will be found that he acted not from feeling or impulse, but from circumstances which he could not control, or from a deliberate determination that the steps he would take would, on the whole, be best to forward his own views and add to his own fame. At the same time it would be most unjust not to admit that Lafayette indulged not in the excesses of his epoch, and restrained, rather than excited, all sanguinary pretensions; but he never clearly saw or understood the logical results of his own measures, and, reasoning with weakness, or not reasoning closely, he pursued courses which were sure, philosophically, to lead to certain ends, which ends he did not desire.

But there he sat in the Chamber of Deputies with a by no means expressive physiognomy, and, indeed, not at all in external appearance an interesting man. Still he embodied, as it were, the Revolution, and each silver hair seemed to mark an event, and to read a lesson. As I watched his playful smiles whilst he was conversing with the friends whom I have already named, I retraced, in my mind's eye, his prodigious history. The following is a rapid sketch, and will form the first part of my reminiscences.

I dwell not on the particulars of his birth, which soon followed the death of his father, who was killed at the battle of Minden; nor do I stay to notice his education in Auvergne,

with tender and revered relatives; nor to describe his removal at twelve years of age to a college at Paris, where he lost his virtuous mother, and where the death of her father rendered wealthy the young Lafayette, although he had been born, comparatively speaking, poor. Nor will I present the line of ancestry of which he was proud, or the "crosses" and "orders" of his father as colonel of the Grenadiers of France, and Chevalier de Saint Louis. Nor even shall I more than allude to those schoolboy successes "inspired,” according to his own oft-repeated words, "by the love of glory, and sometimes disturbed by that of liberty." Suffice it to say, that at fifteen he entered into the regiment of the Black Musqueteers, and at the age of sixteen was married. Even at that early period his self-love and self-conceit, for it is not uncharitable thus to write, gave a direction to his mind and conduct by no means commendable, and rendered him no acceptable visitor either at court or in the upper circles of society. Two years after his marriage, the troubles in America gave a settled direction to his future life, and his boyish prejudices in favour of republicanism, as his not less boyish aversion to Great Britain, conducted him across the Atlantic, and caused his name to be enrolled amongst the authors of what has been termed "American Independence." It was then that he placed on his arms for a device, "Cur non?" This phrase in itself confirmed the view I have taken of his character. He did not ask "why" he, a young French officer, should enlist in the service of rebel colonists, but simply, "why not?" i.e. how would his life be affected by it, his fortune, his future fame, the reputation of his family? It was all the argument of negation, not of enthusiasm.

I shall not stop to ridicule the importance which Lafayette always attributed to his negotiations with Mr. Deane for his departure for America, nor to laugh at his own declaration, made with all imaginable solemnity, that "the secrecy with which this negotiation and his preparations were made appeared almost a miracle" just as though "ministers, French spies, and English spies,"

had nothing better to do than to look after a boyish face of nineteen with the name of Lafayette. Of his purchase and fitting out a vessel I merely observe that throughout the whole proceeding there was a marked egotism in his conduct, and that all were subjected, though only twenty years of age, to his directions, as all were exposed to the consequences of his folly. But after some obstacles had been overcome and opposition encountered, he arrived at Charlestown, proceeded to Philadelphia, repaired to the Congress, and, to prevent his offer of services from being refused, which he had many reasons for apprehending would be the case, he "exacted" two favours: one, to serve at his own expense, and the other to serve at first as volunteer. In this proceeding there was much of adroitness, if you will, but there was nothing of real heart or enthusiasm. He perceived that the Americans received him coldly, and were displeased with the pretensions, and disgusted with the conduct, of many Frenchmen; so he resorted to this scheme in order to prevent the total failure of his plans. A life of admirable French society, of domestic virtue, of relative affection, of letters and the fine arts, or of regular and approved service in the army of the king, did not suit his self-love and his self-conceit; and now that he had obstinately resolved, contrary to the advice of every one who took an interest in him, to be a great man amongst rebels, rather than an ordinary man amongst loyal and patriotic subjects, he was compelled to submit to ask the favour of being allowed to serve as a volunteer, and without being paid, to the American rebels in revolt against their mother country. This line of conduct Lafayette thought "glorious," and his example has been spoken of for more than three-quarters of a century as worthy of imitation and of praise; but the causes, the origin, the secret springs of his decisions and actions, have too often been disregarded or kept in the background. In the sketch of his American life, drawn with his own hand, may be perceived very numerous proofs of his systematic and calculating conduct, and in those will be also discovered a clue to his whole career. When

And

Washington affected to be ashamed to exhibit his ragged and almost naked troops to "an officer who had just quitted the French army," Lafayette replied, coolly and unreservedly, "It is to learn, and not to teach, that I came hither." This was a specimen of his artful diplomacy. And although, for the sake of effect, the young marquis had insisted on being an unpaid volunteer, still he remained by the side of Washington, that his name might not be mixed up with the pêle-mêle of the mass of the warriors. when wounded in September 1777, he demanded to be conveyed to "the fugitive Congress," all modest men blushed for the lad of twenty, and thought ill of his arrogance; and, to adopt his own words (so little respect had he for the laws, either of humanity or for the dictates of common sense), whilst he was confined to his bed, suffering from his wound, attended by the Moravian brethren, he, whilst listening to their sermons, planned setting Europe and Asia in a flame Plan after plan he suggested to the French court, and letter after letter he transmitted to De Maurepas; but at Versailles he was regarded as a mere wrong-headed youth, who, being averse to the restraints of civilised and monarchical society and good life, had resolved on wasting his time and his treasures on the rebellion of the New World. No replies were sent to his communications.

No notice was taken of his attempts to indulge his own vanity and give importance to his own name; and for a long period the walls of his humble hospital with the Moravians echoed no praises but those pronounced by himself on his own talents, his own acquirements, and his own conduct.

One of the schemes he devised, and which he always thought supremely ingenious, was that the French governor of the windward islands should attack the English islands under American colours. M. de Bouillé, the French governor, transmitted the advice to Versailles, but the court treated it with contempt, as it did also his suggestion that an enterprise against the English factories should be also undertaken under American colours. Lafayette was always apt to repeat when speak

ing of this portion of his history, that De Maurepas said of him, "Oh, the young wrong-head, he would unfurnish the palace if he could to serve his friends the Americans. He is the most obstinate young man I ever met with."

A small military affair on Sandy Point, at which he undoubtedly displayed some valour, gained for him a name in the then wandering Congress; and on the 1st of December, 1777, it passed a vote, "That it would be extremely agreeable to it to see the Marquis of Lafayette at the head of a division."

"I have defeated Lord Cornwallis," Lafayette wrote home to his friends in Paris, "I shall never lead on the troops to victory or death." The fact was that Lord Cornwallis thought the troops headed by Lafayette were really the corps of General Greene, and lost some fifty or sixty men in the course of a prudential retreat to the neighbourhood of Gloucester. There the successes of the French army terminated! but the momentary achievement supplied him with materials for self-gratulation and for hope.

The vanity of Lafayette, which was the ruling passion of his life, was, perhaps, never more displayed than when he wrote the following sentence: "General Washington never placed unlimited confidence in any person but myself; because for me alone confidence sprung from warm affection." The character of Washington was not one of a confiding nature; but his calm, cool manner of viewing events and individuals often, doubtless, led him to wish that he were less troubled by the young French marquis. And yet who can wonder that at some periods of the struggle Washington caught at straws; for at the commencement of the year 1778 he had only a paper money to aid him, which was counterfeited by the English, and discredited by the Americans; the people were indignant at the amount of taxes they had to defray; the army was in the most wretched plight; the weather was singularly inclement; and the Congress was divided into two factions. So bad was the state of affairs, that Washington even concealed from the Congress the number of troops of which the rebel army was composed,

Thus the young Frenchman afforded some sort of consolation to the American generals from time to time, by his predictions that France would make a diversion in this direction, and would aid a movement in that quarter; but all his despatches remained unanswered by his own government, and he had very often the mortification of hearing the question, "Well, marquis, what news have you from Versailles ?"

But Lafayette, young as he was, had already passed the Rubicon; and the Congress appointed him, in January 1778, to take the command of an expedition against Canada. Again he exemplified his accustomed prudence and cunning; for, to save himself from the disgrace of defeat, he insisted that he should be subordinate to General Washington, and that he should address all his despatches to that officer. He had in this plan two objects to accomplish, the first to continue to stand well with the

American commander, and "have friends at court," and the next, to shelter himself beneath the name of Washington, should unexpected dis. asters arise to himself and his troops. On his arrival at Albany, he found, however, that he had undertaken a hopeless enterprise, and he resigned. the command, and abandoned the expedition, rather than compromise that future fame which he ever believed he should attain.

The aversion of Lafayette to Great Britain was neither well principled, reasonable, nor justifiable. Personally, he owed nothing but respect and gratitude to the English. As a Frenchman, he had no motives for his hate. His adoption of the American cause was solely the result of vanity and caprice. He felt that at home he would be an ordinary young noble, and nothing more; but that in America he would be regarded with respect, enthusiasm, wonder. So he hated England for the sake of himself, and administered the "oath of renunciation" to countless savages who could not understand him, in order that he might write in his own peculiarly egotistical manner,

"It is singular that the oath of renunciation to Great Britain and her king, which every one employed in the Continental service was obliged to take

at that time, should have been administered in one half of the United States by a Frenchman of twenty years of age."

He

Singular, indeed! but how very depressed and deficient must have been the cause and the army which had recourse to such an expedient to excite the enthusiasm of the savages! The disappointment felt by Lafayette when bills of conciliation passed the British houses of parliament, and which disappointment he could not conceal, demonstrated how selfish were his sentiments and his acts with regard to the American war. wrote every where against the conciliatory measures, as well as against every commissioner; and he sought, by every possible means, to inflame the minds of the members of the Congress against any arrangement. Why was this? Had he been personally injured or nationally offended? Had France at that period taken any interest, as a nation, in the American struggle? No. Then why was Lafayette so personally anxious to prevent peace between Great Britain and her colonies; and why did he on every occasion seek to add fuel to the fire? The answer, and the only answer, must be, because he feared that peace and a settlement would give a fatal blow to his love of notoriety.

At length, circumstances, at which I shall not even glance, for they are matters known to all men, led to the intervention of France, and to the arrival in the Delaware of twelve French vessels. That Lafayette had in no respect contributed to this result is certain. Not only were his letters all unanswered, but orders had been issued by the court at Versailles to arrest him in the West Indies. He was regarded as a meddling and troublesome youth, who had compromised the French name, and might injure French reputation.

When d'Estaing, at the period of which I am now writing, offered to Lafayette the command of two battalions, the latter declined to accept the proposal, although he would have by that step secured his rank in the French army. Why was this? The reasons are obvious. He would have become simply a French officer, a general in the army of an ally, and would have lost those chances of