One of the staples
of transatlantic relations is the enduring friendship between France and the
United States of America. In a TV interview in November, President Macron, as a
preface to his comments on President Trump’s attitude towards global warming and
Iran, declared: “the Americans are our allies. We helped the American people to
win independence and they helped us every time our security was threatened”. He was referring of course, among other
things, to the role of Count Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette alongside George
Washington during the American war of independence and the famous words attributed
to General Pershing (but probably
uttered by his aide-de-camp) at Lafayette’s grave after landing in France at
the head his troops in 1917: “Lafayette nous voila!" In his New year’s
address to the French people, Macron even went so far as to echo John F.
Kennedy’s words at his inaugural address in January 1961: “Ask not what your
country can do for you but what you can do for your country” In the U.S, countless
streets, towns and cities are named after Lafayette and many statues have been
erected to honour his memory. There are no less than three in New York, one in
Union Square Park, sculpted by Statue of Liberty sculptor, Bartholdi, one in Lafayette
Park, Harlem and one on an impressive frieze along the wall of Prospect Park, Brooklyn,
commissioned by Henry Harteau, a Brooklyn citizen of French ancestry, who had
these words inscribed on it: … “an enduring tribute to one who as friend
and companion of the immortal Washington fought to establish in our country
those vital principles of liberty and human brotherhood which he afterward
labored to establish in his own.”
Relations
between the two countries have not always been as warm as such tributes
would suggest. A book published in 2004, written by an American journalist,
John J. Miller and a historian, Mark Molesky (“Our oldest enemy”- “a history of America’s disastrous relationship
with France”) romps through the history of bilateral relations with a distinctly
jaundiced eye. The book’s provocative
title is only a prelude to the blackening of France’s reputation in the body of
the text. France is accused at many junctures in history of deviousness, crude
anti-Americanism and frequent attempts to thwart American, and by extension,
the world’s interests, in pursuit of its own devious ends. From France's attempts
to establish itself in the New World by conspiring with Indian tribes to
massacre English settlers, to Napoleon Bonaparte’s designs on Louisiana, Napoleon
3rd’s support for the Confederacy during the Civil War and his failed attempts
to install a puppet regime in Mexico, the thwarting by Clemenceau of Woodrow Wilson’s
urge to “make the world safe for democracy”
by working for a more balanced version of the Versailles Treaty than the one
that was eventually imposed on Germany in 1919, the obstructionism and “gallic pomposity” of Gaulle,
after World War 2, the condescending arrogance of the French
cultural elite towards American popular culture in the 1950s and 60, and finally the "duplicitous" behaviour of Jacques Chirac in
expressing unending sympathy for America after 9/11 but refusing to take part in
President Bush’s invasion of Irak.
Published in 2004, the book was of course intended to surf on the wave of anti-French
sentiment following France’s refusal to participate in the "war on terror”,
and it is therefore understandable that the authors did their best to cast the French in the
worst possible light. However, even George
Washington, as recorded in the book, noted that: “…it is a maxim founded in the
universal experience of mankind that no nation can be trusted further than it
is bound by its interests”. The authors go to great lengths to blame the French
for thwarting American interests but, unsurprisingly, make little attempt to
explain or justify them. Little matter, the book makes entertaining
reading!
Even these
authors, however, warm to Lafayette. During America’s struggle for independence,
they write, “there was at least one Frenchman however, whose concern for America
seemed motivated by something other than raw self-interest”, even if they add,
a couple of pages later, that, "in truth it is not altogether clear how well
Lafayette actually understood the principles he was fighting for ”, and by extension
therefore that, “for more than two centuries, whenever tensions arose
between the United States and France, the French rarely missed an opportunity
to invoke the memory of Lafayette as a way of shielding their true motives”.
Indeed, Lafayette might not have expressed the principles he was fighting for at the time
of the American Revolution in the way historians have done since, but there is no
doubting the sincerity of his convictions. And in the ultra turbulent times of
the French revolution, some 20 years later, it was certainly not easy to “establish
those principles of liberty and human brotherhood”, in the words of Harteau’s tribute.
By all accounts, Lafayette was a moderate at a time of extremists, a bringer of
order at a time of anarchy, in favour of establishing a constitutional monarchy
in the aftermath of a monarch’s bloody execution. As the revolution spiralled
out of control, he only saved his head by being outside the country, having
been taken prisoner by the Austrians during the revolutionary wars. And while
his wife, from the de Noailles aristocratic family, was able to escape from
revolutionary Paris and join her husband, her sister, mother and grandmother
all fell victim to the reign of terror, during which more than 1300 people were
executed on the same guillotine in June and July of 1794. During the post revolutionary period, Lafayette's relationship
with Napoleon Bonaparte was strained, to say the least, and he spent the
remaining years of his life as a moderate member of the Chamber of Deputies,
playing a pivotal role in the mini Revolution of July 1830 when the “citizen
king” Louis-Philippe was installed on the throne.
Lafayette’s
last resting place, since his death in 1834, is the Picpus cemetery in Paris.
I found it a strange place in many ways when I visited it recently, a small haven of peace and quiet, next to a noisy building site for a new university and across the road from a large car dealership. The small
number of elaborate tombs holding the remains of some of France’s most
aristocratic families stand just yards away from three mass graves in which the
bodies of many of those executed during the reign of terror were hastily and
secretly buried in land that was consecrated only years later. Lafayette’s
grave is easily recognisable in the far corner, with inscriptions in French and
English and decorated with an American flag. It also holds American soil,
brought back for this very purpose by Lafayette himself from his triumphant
tour of America in 1824. Every year on July 4th, an American
delegation runs up a fresh flag over the grave of its honorary citizen and lays a wreath. As to the ideals of liberty
and human brotherhood, the universalist message of both France and the United States,
they continue to resonate and inspire throughout the world, from China to Russia, from Iran to Tunisia, to name just a few of its more recent manifestations.
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