"The Lafayettes die young, but die fighting," was a saying in that part of France where they had been people of consequence for seven hundred years before the most famous of them came into the world. The family name was Motier, but, after the custom of the time, they were better known by the name of their estate, La Fayette, in Auvergne, a region which had been called the French Siberia. Although situated in central southern France, fully three hundred and fifty miles from Paris, it is a high wind-swept country of plains and cone-shaped hills, among whose rugged summits storms break to send destruction rushing down into the valleys. Unexpected, fertile, sheltered spots are to be found among these same hills, but on the whole it is not a gentle nor a smiling land.

The history of France during the Middle Ages bears not a little resemblance to this region of Auvergne, so full of sharp contrasts, often of disaster. Through all the turbulent centuries the men of the house of Lafayette bore their part, fighting gallantly for prince and king. Family tradition abounded in stories telling how they had taken part in every war since old Pons Motier de Lafayette, the Crusader, fought at Acre, in Palestine, in 1250. Jean fell at Poictiers in 1356. There was a Claude—exception to the rule that they died young—who took part in sixty-five sieges and no end of pitched battles. Though most of them fought on land, there was an occasional sailor to relieve the monotony; notably a vice-admiral of the reign of Francis First, who held joint command with Andrea Doria when that soldier of fortune went to the relief of Marseilles, and who sank or burned four Spanish galleons in the naval battle at the mouth of the Var.

But the Lafayette who occupied most space in family tradition and written history was Gilbert, who was head of the family about the time Columbus discovered America. It was he who took for motto upon his coat of arms the words, "Cur non?" "Why not?" and by energetic deeds satisfactorily answered his own question. "Seneschal of the Bourbonnaise," "Lieutenant-General," "Governor of Dauphigny," and "Marshal of France" were a few of the titles and honors he gathered in the course of a long life, for he was another exception to the family rule. He was eighty-two before he passed away, ready to fight to the last. Although it is not true that he slew the English Duke of Clarence with his own hands at the battle of BaugÉ, it is true that he fought under the banner of Joan of Arc at OrlÉans, and that he had many adventures on many fields. When there was no foreign enemy to battle against, he worked hard to subdue the bandits who infested France and made travel on the highroads more exciting than agreeable to timid souls in the reign of Charles VII.

In time the Motiers de Lafayette divided into two branches, the elder keeping the estate and name and most of the glory; the younger, known as the Motiers of ChampetiÈres, enjoying only local renown. The women of the family also made a place for themselves in history. One, who had beauty, had also courage and wit to oppose the great Cardinal Richelieu himself. Another, less known in politics than in literature, though she tried her hand at both, became famous as a novelist. It was her grand-daughter who inherited part of the property at a time when there were no more men of the elder branch to carry on the name. In order that it might not die out, she arranged to have the estates pass back to the younger branch, which in time inherited the title also.

The Lafayettes went on fighting and losing their lives early in battle. Thus it happened that a baby born to a young widow in the grim old manor-house of Chavaniac on the 6th of September, 1757, was the last male representative of his race, a marquis from the hour of his birth. His father had been made Chevalier of the Order of Saint-Louis and Colonel of Grenadiers at the early age of twenty-two, and fell before he was twenty-five, leading his men in an obscure engagement of the Seven Years' War. This was about a month before his son was born. His family believed that the gallant colonel's life was sacrificed by the recklessness of his commanding officer.

According to the old parish register, still preserved, "The very high and puissant gentleman, Monseigneur Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert Dumotier de Lafayette, the lawful son of the very high and very puissant Monseigneur Michel-Louis-Christophe-Roch-Gilbert Dumotier, Marquis de Lafayette, Baron de Wissac, Seigneur de Saint-Romain and other places, and of the very high and very puissant lady, Madame Marie Louise Julie de la RiviÈre," was baptized in the little parish church of Chavaniac twenty-four hours after his birth. Besides this terrifying name and the title, all the traditions and responsibilities of both branches of the family descended upon his infant shoulders. Being such a scrap of a baby, however, he was mercifully ignorant of responsibilities and ancient names. The one given him in baptism was shortened for daily use to Gilbert, the name of the old Marshal of France; but a time came when it was convenient to have a number, rightfully his, from which to choose. For his signature "La Fayette" covered the whole ground.

His only near relatives were his young mother, his grandmother (a stately lady of strong character), and two aunts, sisters of his dead father, who came to live at Chavaniac. It was by this little group of aristocratic Frenchwomen that the champion of liberty was brought up during those early years when character is formed. That he did not become hopelessly spoiled speaks well for his disposition and their self-control. He was not a strong baby, and they must have spent many anxious hours bending over him as he lay asleep, however much they concealed their interest at other times for fear of doing him moral harm.

Until he was eleven they all lived together in the gloomy old chÂteau where he was born. This has been described as "great and rather heavy." It had been fortified in the fourteenth century. Two round towers with steep, pointed roofs flanked it on the right and left. Across its front high French windows let in light to the upper floors. From them there was a far-reaching view over plain and river, and steep hills dotted with clumps of trees. But loopholes on each side of an inhospitable narrow doorway told of a time when its situation had been more prized for defense than for mere beauty of scenery. It had a dungeon and other grim conveniences of life in the Middle Ages, which must have stamped themselves deep on the mind of an impressionable child. The castles of Wissac and Saint-Romain, of which the boy was also lord, could be seen higher up among the hills. There were glimpses, too, of peasant homes, but these were neither neat nor prosperous. Bad laws, and abuse of law that had been going on for centuries, had brought France to a point where a few people were growing inordinately rich at the expense of all the rest. The king suffered from this as well as the peasants. The country was overrun by an army of tax-collectors, one for every one hundred and thirty souls in France, each of them bent on giving up as little as possible of the money he collected. To curry favor with the great nobles, who were more powerful than the king himself, their property was not taxed so heavily as it should have been, while poorer people, especially the peasants, were robbed to make up the difference. "The people of our country live in misery; they have neither furniture nor beds; during part of the year the most of them have no nourishment except bread made of oats and barley, and even this they must snatch from their own mouths and those of their children in order to pay the taxes." That was written about this very region of Auvergne a few years before Lafayette was born. In self-defense the peasants made their homes look even more wretched than they really were. On occasion, when convinced that the stranger knocking at their door was no spy, they could bring a wheaten loaf and a bottle of wine from their secret store and do the honors most hospitably.

The La Fayettes were not rich, though they were the great people of their neighborhood. Only one Frenchman in a hundred belonged to the nobility, but that one received more consideration than all the other ninety-nine combined. When the boy marquis rode out with his mother, or that stately lady his grandmother, the peasants in the little village which had grown up around the walls of Chavaniac, clinging to it for protection, bowed down as though the child were a sovereign. Some of them knelt in the dust as the coach passed by. Truly it was strange soil for the growth of democratic ideas. It was well for the boy's soul that in spite of lands and honor the household was of necessity a frugal one. The wide acres were unproductive. Men who had fought so often and so well for their princes had found little leisure to gather wealth for their children. Besides, it was thought out of the question for a nobleman to engage in gainful pursuits. The wealth such men enjoyed came through favor at court; and in this household of women there was no longer any one able to render the kind of service likely to be noticed and rewarded by a king.

THE MANOR-HOUSE OF CHAVANIAC
Birthplace of Lafayette

So the lad grew from babyhood in an atmosphere of much ceremony and very little luxury. On the whole, his was a happy childhood, though by no means gay. He loved the women who cherished him so devotedly. In his Memoirs, written late in life, he calls them "tender and venerated relatives." They looked forward to the day when in his turn he should become a soldier, dreading it, as women will, but accepting it, as such women do, in the spirit of noblesse oblige, believing it the one possible calling for a young man of his station. To prepare him for it he was trained in manly exercises, by means of which he outgrew the delicacy of his earliest years and became tall and strong for his age. He was trained also in horsemanship, to which he took kindly, for he loved all spirited animals. In books, to which he did not object, though he was never wholly a scholar, he followed such studies as could be taught him by the kindly AbbÉ Feyon, his tutor.

On his rides, when he met the ragged, threadbare people who lived among the hills, they saluted him and looked upon him almost with a sense of ownership. Was he not one of their Lafayettes who had been fighting and dying gallantly for hundreds of years? As for him, his friendly, boyish eyes looked a little deeper through their rags into their sterling peasant hearts than either he or they realized. In the old manor-house his day-dreams were all of "riding over the world in search of reputation," he tells us; a reputation to be won by doing gallant deeds. "You ask me," we read in his Memoirs, "at what time I felt the earliest longings for glory and liberty. I cannot recall anything earlier than my enthusiasm for tales of heroism. At the age of eight my heart beat fast at thought of a hyena which had done some damage and made even more noise in the neighborhood. The hope of meeting that beast animated all my excursions." Had the encounter taken place, it might have been thrilling in the extreme. It might even have deprived history of a bright page; for it was nothing less than hunger which drove such beasts out of the woods in winter to make raids upon lonely farms—even to terrify villagers at the very gates of Chavaniac.