Towards the end of the year 1784, M. de Lafayette came to Mount Vernon. Washington felt for him a truly paternal affection, the tenderest, perhaps, of which his life presents any trace. Apart from the services rendered by him, from the personal esteem he inspired, and from the attractiveness of his character, apart even from the enthusiastic devotion which M. de Lafayette testified for him, this elegant and chivalrous young nobleman, who had escaped from the court of Versailles to dedicate his sword and his fortune to the yeomanry of America, was singularly pleasing to the grave American general. It was, as it were, a homage paid by the nobility of the old world to his cause and his person; a sort of connecting tie between him and that French society, which was so brilliant, so intellectual, and so celebrated. In his modest elevation of mind, he was flattered as well as touched by it, and his thoughts rested with an emotion full of complacency upon this young friend, whose life was like that of none other, and who had quitted every thing to serve by his side. {86} "In the moment of our separation," he wrote to him, "upon the road as I traveled, and every hour since, I have felt all that love, respect, and attachment for you, with which length of years, close connection, and your merits have inspired me. I often asked myself, as our carriages separated, whether that was the last sight I should ever have of you. And though I wished to say No, my fears answered Yes. I called to mind the days of my youth, and found they had long since fled to return no more; that I was now descending the hill I had been fifty-two years climbing, and that, though I was blest with a good constitution, I was of a short-lived family, and might soon expect to be entombed in the mansion of my fathers. These thoughts darkened the shades, and gave a gloom to the picture, and consequently to my prospect of seeing you again. But I will not repine; I have had my day." [Footnote 46] [Footnote 46: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 77.] Notwithstanding this sad presentiment, and his sincere taste for repose, his thoughts dwelt constantly upon the condition and affairs of his country. No man can separate himself from the place in which he has once held a distinguished position. {87} "Retired as I am from the world," he writes in 1786, "I frankly acknowledge I cannot feel myself an unconcerned spectator." [Footnote 47] [Footnote 47: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 189.]