Washington [335]
At his home in Paris, Lafayette flaunted his ties to the American Revolution, posting a portrait of Washington and American flags on the walls. His infatuation did not cool with time. He seemed to live in an eternal, high-flown rapture with Washington and wrote to him in language that was almost ecstatic. In one letter he labeled Washington “the savior of his country, the benefactor of mankind, the protecting angel of liberty, the pride of America, and the admiration of the two hemispheres”—all in a single sentence.7 After the war Washington was powerfully tempted to go to Paris, especially when a French nobleman assured him that King Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette had “expressed their desire to be acquainted with the circumstances of a life which has so much contributed to the liberty of your country.”8 Washington felt the full force of this royal favor, which he labeled “one of the most flattering incidents” of his life.9 When Lafayette pleaded with him to visit France, Washington had to rule it out because of his financial plight and because Martha was “too far advanced in life and is too much immersed in the care of her little progeny to cross the Atlantic.” Writing like a pious hermit instead of a world-renowned general, Washington urged Lafayette and his wife to travel to Mount Vernon “and call my cottage your home . . . You will see the plain manner in which we live and meet the rustic civility. And you shall taste the simplicity of rural life.”10
Nothing could stop Lafayette’s triumphant return to America. While projecting a trip there in the spring of 1783, he wrote to Washington in a typical burst of enthusiasm, “Happy, ten times happy will I be in embracing my dear general, my father, my best friend.”11 Not until the following March did Lafayette assure Washington that, before the summer was out, “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.”12 Washington responded with gratitude to the buckets of Gallic charm that Lafayette poured over his head at every turn.
Upon arriving at Mount Vernon in August 1784, Lafayette was delighted to find a group portrait of himself and his family in an honored place in the parlor. He bore a cherished gift from Paris, a Masonic apron that Adrienne had embroidered for the general. Lafayette was instantly entranced by Nelly and Washy. “The general has adopted them and loves them deeply,” he told his wife. “It was quite funny when I arrived to see the curious looks on those two small faces who had heard nothing but talk of me the entire day and wanted to see if I looked like my portrait.”13
Finding Washington busy but relaxed, Lafayette delighted in his company and treasured their dinner conversations, when they swapped wartime anecdotes. Washington guided him around the grounds and quizzed him about European flowers that might flourish there. All the while the vexed question of slavery hung heavily in the air. Earlier in the summer, during William Gordon’s two-week stay, Washington had admitted to a desire to be rid of his slaves and mentioned Lafayette’s abolitionist plans. “I should rejoice beyond measure could your joint counsels and influence produce it,” Gordon responded, “and thereby give the finishing stroke and the last polish to your political characters.”14 Unfortunately, we don’t know the specifics of the conversation between Washington and Lafayette about slavery. When Lafayette encountered James Madison, the former said he was now gripped by three obsessions: the French-American alliance, the unity of the thirteen states, and “the manumission of the slaves.”15 Madison, a large slave owner, wrote to Jefferson, another large slave owner, that Lafayette’s position on slavery “does him real honor, as it is a proof of his humanity.”16 After the Revolution it was unquestionably fashionable to utter such high-minded sentiments, but talk was cheap and direct action was quite another