When La Fayette was first released from his prison at Olmütz, he found that he had come back to a changed world. The king, queen, court, Assembly, and constitution, all were gone! The awful Reign of Terror which swept over his country had left many empty places among his friends, and the France which met his ardent gaze was greatly different from that upon which his longing eyes turned as he had been obliged to depart from her coasts in haste and with baffled hopes. [Illustration: EXECUTION OF LOUIS XVI.] Writing to a friend who had cautioned him against freely expressing his opinions, lest he might find himself in further trouble, La Fayette boldly answered: “I risk nothing in speaking as I think, because I would not and could not be employed by any party except according to my own ideas. The result is that, except on some very great occasion of serving the liberty of my country after my own fashion, my political life is ended. To my friends I shall be full of life, and to the public a sort of picture in a museum or book in a library. Those who know my views and wishes must be convinced that the services I should wish to render to my country are of a nature to be combined with the mode of living which suits my position, my wife, all my family, and myself; that is to say, with a quiet philosopher’s establishment on a good farm,—far enough from the capital not to be interfered with in my solitude, and to see only intimate friends.” Immediately upon the release of La Fayette, Washington addressed to him the following letter from Mount Vernon, dated Oct. 8, 1797:— “This letter will be presented to you, I hope, by your young son, well worthy of having such parents as yourself and your amiable wife. “I could say to you much better than I can express it here all that I have felt for your sufferings; concerning my efforts for your release, the measures which I adopted, although without success, to facilitate your deliverance from an unjust and cruel captivity; and my joy at last in beholding its termination. “I desire to congratulate you, and be assured that no one could offer it with an affection more profound and sincere. Each action of your life gives me a right to rejoice at the liberty which you have received, and also at the restoration of security in your country; and if the possession of these blessings cannot entirely compensate for the trials which you have endured, they will mitigate, at least, the painful remembrance.