g won, Lafayette
returned to France.

Washington and Lafayette! The American and the Frenchman. Great
soldiers both, but above all, great _men_. The real soul of the soldier
speaks out in this letter from the American to the Frenchman, written in
1784: "At length, my dear Marquis, I have become a private citizen on
the banks of the Potomac; and under the shadow of my own vine and my own
fig-tree, free from the bustle of the camp and the busy scenes of public
life, I am solacing myself with those tranquil enjoyments, of which the
soldier who is ever in pursuit of fame, the statesman whose watchful
days and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the
welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of other countries, as if this
globe was insufficient for us all--and the courtier who is always
watching the countenance of his prince in the hope of catching a
gracious smile--can have very little conception. I have not only retired
from all public employments, but am retiring within myself and shall be
able to view the solitary walk, and tread the paths of private life with
heartfelt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased
with all; and this, my dear friend, being the order of my march, I shall
move gently down the stream of life until I sleep with my fathers."

IV

The scene in the world-wide drama of democracy shifts across the
Atlantic Ocean, from America to France. The French Revolution of 1789
and the Reign of Terror--a century's pent-up rage against despotism, let
loose in a single hour!

When Madame Roland was summoned before the revolutionary tribunal she
came with a smile upon her lips, her face sparkling with life and
animation. Condemned in advance, she was falsely declared guilty of
being the author of a "mutinous conspiracy against the unity and defense
of the republic." She heard her sentence calmly. "You deem me worthy the
fate of the great men you have murdered. I shall try to display the
same courage on the scaffold." She was at once taken in a cart to the
Place de la Revolution, a man guilty of treason being placed in the same
cart. He was overwhelmed with terror and she occupied her time in
soothing him. On reaching the guillotine, she bade him mount the steps
first, that his sufferings might not be prolonged. As she took her
place, her eyes fell on a colossal statue of Liberty, recently erected
near by. "O Liberty," she cried, "what crimes are committed in thy
name!