so soon?""Why did he not understand the chief of Orleans better before consenting to his election as king?"—"Why did Lafayette resign the office of lieutenant-general with such seeming caprice?" These questions embody the argument of the prevailing government and party in France, against the venerable patriot who had carried her safely through the last one of so many revolutions. At some hazard of being thought desirous of gaining importance by relating conversations held with him by myself, I shall give you in the simplest way, his own reply to this argument so industriously urged by his enemies.

"It has been said," he remarked, "that I made Louis Philippe king. That is not true. But it is true that I consented that he should be king. I acted not without hesitation even thus far. But what could I do? What else could be done? The people had achieved a revolution. The chamber of deputies contained a large majority of patriots, but not of republicans, although there were many republicans. But all France regarded republicanism with horror on account on the terrible excesses of 1793, and nobody as yet was willing to renew the experiment. The great desire of every one was, to bring the revolution to an early end, because, although the people had behaved well thus far, it was, nevertheless, feared that they would become turbulent, and thus the tragedy of the old Republic would be re-enacted. What was to be done? The only one of the Bonapartes whom it was practicable to call to the throne, was the young Duke of Reichstadt, and he was a minor, a valetudinarian, and in the hands of the Austrians. He had been educated by them, and it was natural to believe, he was imbued with the prepossessions, prejudices, and principles of that court. Besides, the name of Bonaparte was associated with the reminiscences of military despotism. The throne of his successor must be made sacred by a return, in a great measure, to the same despotic system; and so there were, you see, insuperable objections to the restoration of the Napoleon dynasty. We could not safely proclaim a republic. We had no republican army to rely upon, nor could such a government at this time secure the confidence of the people, and we knew full well that, as soon as it should be proclaimed all Europe would be combined against us. The attention and the prepossessions of all the actors in the revolution were already engrossed by Louis Philippe. I was little acquainted with him. I knew that he had been a republican in his youth. He had talents, learning, and knowledge of the world. He was a little too fond of money, but he had, hitherto behaved very well, especially in America. The general sentiment indicated Louis Philippe, but it was agreed that, before he should be created king, an interview with him should be had, and his sentiments and principles should be ascertained, and he should be bound to a constitutional monarchy, which should be organized in such a way as to prepare for introducing the republic. Accordingly I left the people at the Hotel de Ville, and sought Louis Philippe. The first thing he said to me was, 'Well, General Lafayette, what is to be done?' I answered. You are well aware that I am a republican. It seems to me that the constitution of the United States is the best form of government that has ever been devised by man.' Louis Philippe replied, My sentiments agree precisely with yours, and no man can reside in America two years, as I have done, without being convinced that the government of the United States is the best that can be framed. But after all, what shall we do now? You know the prejudices and terrors with which the republican system is now regarded in France. We can not depend on the army. Half of the troops are Carlists, and we shall have all Europe invading us the moment that we proclaim a republic.' I replied, 'I am aware of all this, and, therefore, I think it is most desirable now to give quiet to France, and to consummate the revolution. It is best, therefore, to establish now, and for a time, a monarchy, but one in which the monarchical principle shall be limited as much as possible, and to encircle the throne with republican institutions, and so, by educating the people, we shall prepare them for the republic as soon it shall be safe to establish it.' Louis Philippe

rejoined, these are my very thoughts, I have reflected upon the subject, and I agree fully in all the sentiments you have expressed.' Thereupon I returned to the Hotel de Ville, and announced to the people there that, the sentiments of Louis Philippe agreed exactly with my own, and, as you know already, he was then made king. We caused him to swear to a charter containing two fundamental articles, one the sovereignty of the people, and the responsibility of the government to them; the other, universal suffrage,' and he further pledged himself, that a law should be submitted, to begin immediately the great work of education. I was made lieutenant-general of the kingdom. I did not wish that office, but it seemed necessary to satisfy the people, and attach them to the new government. Besides I saw that if I should decline the place it would furnish occasion for the calumny, that I wanted to be king myself. Thereupon I assumed the office, and for a time, all went on well. Louis Philippe promised to support the liberal cause in Italy, and Belgium, and throughout Europe. Stimulated by our example, aud our success, the republican cause began its movement in Poland, Belgium, and Italy. It encountered the resistance we had anticipated, and then it looked to us for support. Louis Philippe had not the courage to sustain it as he had promised. I remonstrated against his policy of abandoning to destruction those whom we had excited to take up arms. He persisted, and so left them to their hard fate. He then became very anxious that I should resign my office; and he indulged, or affected apprehension lest, in the hands of a successor, the office might become too powerful for the safety of France. I was more desirous to resign it than he was that I should retire. I felt that, I could not hold it longer consistently with justice to myself, and my known principles. Louis Philippe had already begun to lay the foundations of a new Bourbon dynasty, which he designed should be perpetual, instead of conducting the government so as to prepare the way for a republic, as he had promised me. I would have no hand in such schemes. I was a citizen of the United States, a republican. I knew that my name was associated with the cause of liberty and republicanism wherever that cause was cherished. I never intended to seek or hold office merely for the sake of office under any government, and I had accepted the place of lieutenant-general only to advance that cause. I could not retain it under the circumstances without lending the sanction of my name whatever it might be worth, to the principles of the new dynasty, and that would be doing violence to the faith I had in the republican cause, and disgusting, and so discouraging the friends of that cause throughout the world. For these reasons I resigned. Louis Philippe afterward said that he made no engagement with me preparatory to his ascent to the throne. As soon as I learned this in an authentic way, I sent a message to him that I should not any longer visit the Tuilleries, and so the breach between us was completed."

I have already deprecated the censure of self-conceit, which the presentation of the recollections of such memorable conversations may draw upon me. But I must be allowed now to say that, my heart never swelled with pride for my country, more than it did when I received from the lips of Lafayette, this avowal of his citizenship of this country as the controlling principle of his conduct in that great crisis, so full of importance to his own native land, and to the cause of freedom throughout the world. These conversations were held in his own private chamber, which was embellished with only a bust of Washington, and the cold marble seemed to warm and smile during the narration to which I listened.*

I must bring this discourse to a close. How could I so effectnally have performed the task of eulogium, which you have

*Other interesting reminiscences of Lafayette will be found among the "LETTERS FROM EUROPE," pp. 6 of this volume.-Ed.

imposed upon me, as by giving you a transcript of the life of my great subject, and his sentiments on great affairs in his own words. Yet how many great actions, and how many lessons of wisdom, and virtue, and benevolence, have I necessarily omitted, which are familiar in all your memories.

You have seen how love and veneration for our country were the main-spring of all his actions and thoughts, from the early dawn to the setting sun of his political life. If ever your hearts have sickened under apprehensions of its degeneracy, if ever you have lost confidence or hope in the virtue of the people, or the safety of the republic, you have now been inspired with new zeal to serve and save it, by this proof of the inestimable value attached to its safety by him, who was so long the sole representative of republicanism and liberty in Europe. I could give you many more illustrations of Lafayette's affection toward America. I said to his heroic daughter, the Countess of Marbury, who had sought imprisonment with him in the castle of Olmutz, "Was not the happiest hour in your life, that one in which you saw your venerated parent again restored, after so many years of persecution and neglect, to his ancient influence among the people of France?""No! no," said she, "the proudest hours we have ever enjoyed, were those when the American journals brought by every packet, detailed with minuteness, the honors paid him during his recent progress throughout the United States of America."

The porch at La Grange was decorated with cannon, trophies of the triumph of the people over the king, in the revolution of 1830, and drapery, which combined the tricolored flag with our own stars and stripes, graced the grand stair-way. Portraits and busts of American patriots, views of Mount Vernon and Quincy, and paintings illustrating American victories by land and sea, were the only embellishments of the chambers and halls of the ancient chateau. When, at parting, I reminded him that we still cherished here the hope that he would leave inconstant and ungrateful France, and close his days in America; "Believe me," he replied, “I should be very unhappy were I to think that I should never see America again. But I have yet three years to serve in the legislature, and what may happen within that time God alone knows. And so, indeed, it was. In less than eight months afterward, the tongue that had so recently blessed my country,

with so much fervor, lost its cunning, and the majestic form that had bent over me so affectionately sank into the grave for ever.

Lafayette's preparations for death, of course, harmonized with his principles and conduct during life. France, however, like all other states, unjust at times to her living patriots, is never slow to honor her illustrious dead. She would have decreed him a mausoleum in the Pantheon. But why should his remains have been conveyed to the chill and cheerless vaults, where Rousseau and Voltaire sleep. She would have given him a tomb at St. Denis; but why should his ashes have been mingled with those of kings, whom, though he hated not, yet he opposed as the hinderers of the advancement of their race. On the contrary, Lafayette wisely preferred that he might await the call of God under the grassy sod of Pere La Chaise, in companionship with Massena, Ney, Foy, and Constant.

Young men, neighbors, companions, and friends. You see in the life of Lafayette, the excellence of integrity and constancy in the service of the cause of republicanism, of liberty, which is the cause of human nature. It is not always that those virtues appear to find, here, immediate acknowledgment and just reward. But Providence sometimes vouchsafes illustrations of its approval of them. Serious and painful as were the misfortunes which occasionally and for long seasons attended the great man, whom we and the world mourn, yet if you compare his life and death with those of the other actors in the great drama in which he figured, if you compare his career with those of Mirabeau, dying faithless alike to the people, and the throne-with Robespierre, ignobly perishing by the axe that he had put in motion to extirpate his enemies-with Bonaparte, dying of the gnawings of the vulture ambition, in his prison at St. Helena-you must confess that the contrast proves abundantly, that God is just and rendereth judgment according to the deeds done in the body by the children of men.

DANIEL O'CONNELL.

THERE is sad news from Genoa. An aged and weary pilgrim, who can travel no further, passes beneath the gate of one of her ancient palaces, saying with pious resignation as he enters its silent chambers: "Well! it is God's will that I shall never see Rome. I am disappointed. But I am ready to die. It is all right.". "The superb" though fading queen of the Mediterranean holds anxious watch, through ten long days, over that majestic stranger's wasting frame. And now death is therethe liberator of Ireland has sunk to rest in the cradle of Columbus.

Coincidence beautiful and most sublime! It was the very day set apart by the elder daughter of the church for prayer and sacrifice throughout the world for the children of the sacred island, perishing by famine and pestilence in their homes and in their native fields, and on their crowded paths of exile, on the sea and in the havens, and on the lakes, and along the rivers of this fardistant land. The chimes rung out by pity for his countrymen were O'CONNELL'S fitting knell; his soul went forth on clouds of incense that rose from altars of Christian charity; and the mournful anthems which recited the faith, and the virtue, and the endurance of Ireland, were his becoming requiem.

It is a holy sight to see the obsequies of a soldier, not only of civil liberty, but of the liberty of conscience-of a soldier, not only of freedom, but of the cross of Christ-of a benefactor, not merely of a race or people, but of mankind. The vault lighted by suspended worlds is the temple within which the great solemnities are celebrated. The nations of the earth are mourners, and

NOTE-Daniel O'Connell died May 15, 1847. Mr. Seward, at the invitation of the friends of Ireland in New York, delivered this enlogy on his character in Castle Garden, on the 22d of September, 1847.-Ed.