A Lafayette for our times--or the "death of the subject"?
This ambitious, complex, and important work is unlike anything else
in the vast body of Lafayette literature. For a start, as its
subtitle suggests, it is not in the normal sense a biography. What
once would have been called Lafayette's "formative years" are
dispatched in a dozen or so lines of a two-page biographical
summary contained in the Introduction. Neither are we offered the
customary pen picture or character sketch of the subject, though he
does feature in many of the thirty-one contemporary paintings or
prints which accompany the text. As a result, when at the
beginning of chapter one the nineteen-year old marquis lands in the
New World to serve in George Washington's army, he is almost as
unfamiliar to us as he must have been to his American hosts.
Nor is the book a study of his political life. The
high points of a public career spanning nearly sixty years--his
involvement in, respectively, the American and French Revolutions
and the Revolution of 1830 in France--are each the subject of a
chapter. Surprisingly, his active support at a safe distance for
the failed Polish nationalist rising of 1830-31 is similarly
singled out for special attention. However, the prominent part he
played in the events of the "Pre-Revolution" in France, which
resulted in the breakdown of royal absolutism and the calling of
the Estates-General for 1789, is passed over in complete silence,
while the account of his activities as republican king-maker to
Louis-Philippe in 1830 is not prefaced with an investigation into
his behaviour in the escalating political crisis which brought down
Charles X. Other episodes such as his cautious return to public
life during Napoleon's Hundred Days, or during the Restoration his
lead role in the liberal opposition up until the loss of his seat
in the Chamber of Deputies in 1824, simply form the backdrop to the
book's other four chapters.
Three of these--variously titled "Lafayette and
Liberal Theorists", "Lafayette and Romantic Culture, 1814-1834",
and "Lafayette and Women Writers"--consist of excursions into his
relations with friends or acquaintances in intellectual and
artistic circles. In the first case, these are with the liberal
political theorists Destutt de Tracy, Benjamin Constant, and Jeremy
Bentham; in the second, with the writers Lady Morgan and Fenimore
Cooper, and the opera singer Maria Malibran; and in the third, with
the writers Germaine de Stael, Fanny Wright, and Cristina
Belgiojoso. The odd one out of this quartet of chapters takes the
occasion of Lafayette's triumphal tour of the United States in
1824-25 as the opportunity not so much for an account of the
extraordinary reception given him by the American people on his
spiritual homecoming, as for a comparison of Lafayette and Alexis
de Tocqueville as interpreters and shapers of an emerging American
national identity.
Faced with such a puzzling and apparently disjointed
collection of essays, the cynical or--in Kramer's terminology
"ironic"--reviewer may be tempted to see it as a pragmatic response
to historiographical circumstances: that is, either an attempt to
plug gaps left by other writers or else a case of simply following
where the sources lead. Certainly, the overall concentration of
the book on the post-1800 period, not covered in Louis Gottschalk's
six-volume biography (1935-72), and the prominence given to
Lafayette's dealings with women intellectuals are partly justified
in the former terms. In fairness, though, it has to be said that
Kramer is as much concerned to render the better known aspects of
the Lafayette story less familiar as the reverse. Probably the
exigencies of his sources have had a greater influence on the final
shape of the work. Although issues surrounding the selection and
handling of source material are given remarkably little coverage,
it is safe to infer that Kramer's heavy reliance on Lafayette's
correspondence contained in several collections of private papers
has much to do both with his general preoccupation with
Lafayette's friendships, and his choice of those to feature in the
book's cast list. Most conspicuous among the absentees is
Adrienne, the wife he married at sixteen, who after his capture by
Austrian troops chose to share his imprisonment, and whose
portrait, we are told, he worshipped every day after her death in
1807.
Kramer's ambition, however, is not to find a place
within the existing historiography, but to transcend it. His
purpose is in two senses to provide us with "a Lafayette for our
times". First and foremost, this entails a methodological project:
to bring to bear on an individual life the insights and methods of
the new cultural history more usually deployed in the study of the
mentalities of groups or political culture. Kramer has made
elsewhere the general case for a new cultural approach to history
founded on an awareness of "the active role of language, texts, and
narrative structures" (see his essay "Literature, Criticism, and
Historical Imagination: The Literary Challenge of Hayden White and
Dominick LaCapra," in Lynn Hunt (ed.), _The New Cultural History_
(Berkeley, 1989), pp. 97-98.). Here he justifies his project more
in terms of the bankruptcy of traditional biography, based as it is
on outmoded notions of the transcendent self and the autonomy of
the individual actor. For Kramer "individuals can never be
separated from the social, cultural, and symbolic world in which
they act and construct an identity for themselves" (p. 2). This
was all the more so in Lafayette's case since as a well known
public figure on two continents for the best part of sixty years,
"his life became inseparable from the public narratives about his
life" (p. 8). Accordingly, the historian's task is not to read
through these narratives, but quite simply to read them. Naturally
this task of metaphorical textual criticism calls for the skills
and techniques of the literary specialist.
In place then of an impossible search for the real
Lafayette, this work offers us a series of essays in "the
dialectics of identity" in which our hero is both subject and
object. Each chapter examines how in a particular political or
cultural context his identity was shaped, reshaped, and sustained
through his interactions with other individuals, movements, and
national cultures, and how in turn he helped these "others" find
meaning and identity. So, for example, the first chapter
"America's Lafayette and Lafayette's America: A European and the
American Revolution" looks at, in Kramer's phrase, the "identity-
forming exchange" whereby, on the one hand, the young marquis
becomes symbolically transformed into the hero of two worlds, and,
on the other, America's emerging national identity is reinforced
and given respectability by association with its high born visitor.
Given that, in comparison with traditional
biography, the logic of this post-modern or literary critical
treatment de-centres the subject in a number of ways--for example,
privileging the times over the life--it is surprising to learn that
_Lafayette in Two Worlds_ seeks at the same time, in a sense, to
"re-centre" its subject in the historiography. For the book's
second over-riding purpose is to combat modern accounts of
Lafayette's life which have minimised his historical importance and
worth. In Kramer's view Lafayette has been one of the great
casualties of the "ironic" assumptions and debunking tendencies of
twentieth-century scholarship which have transformed the Romantic
symbol of disinterested idealism into a popularity-hunting,
political mediocrity. Rather than a systematic refutation of the
charges contained in this historiography, Kramer prefers to
deconstruct it initially and then to offer his own alternative,
"post-ironic" readings of Lafayette's career and significance.
How far does the book succeed in this enormously
ambitious undertaking? In my view, the rehabilitation of Lafayette
is no more than a qualified success. Indeed, it can be objected
that the exercise is not as necessary as Kramer maintains. His
claim that Lafayette has been badly treated by modern historians
involves a partial reading of the American historiography.
Firstly, it rests on associating Louis Gottschalk, the greatest
figure in the twentieth-century scholarship of Lafayette, with his
detractors. True the picture which emerges from his various works
is of the "warts and all" variety, but to attribute this to the
malign influence of "the structuring ironic assumptions of modern
historiography" (p. 4) rather than the obligations of critical
scholarship, is surely open to question. Secondly, it ignores--for
this purpose--the contribution of Kramer's own mentor and since
Gottschalk's death, the leading living authority, Stanley Idzerda,
who has consistently represented Lafayette as a uniquely moral
force in politics (see, for example, his essay "Character as
Destiny: A New Look at Lafayette's Career" in _La France et
l'esprit de 76: Colloque du bicentenaire de l'Independance des
Etats-Unis..._, Universite de Clermont-Ferrand II; nouv. ser.,
fasc. 1, 1977).
Compared to Idzerda, Kramer offers a broader, more
balanced and also--mercifully--more restrained defence. But its
very moderation is a source of weakness as well as strength. His
argument that Lafayette was a more effective political actor than
widely supposed is made in part through directing attention from
the moments when he was at the centre of the political stage to his
work behind the scenes for an endless list of civil rights
campaigns. Yet even here Kramer is forced to admit in terms of
tangible results that his record was not terribly impressive.
Writing specifically of his efforts on behalf of Italian liberals
in prison and exile, he acknowledges that "Lafayette's public
campaign... met with the small successes and large disappointments
that characterised so many of his political causes" (p. 176).
On the largest and historically most important of
these disappointments Kramer can do no little more than plead
mitigating circumstances. Rather than the result of a lack of
political skill or nerve, his ultimate failure in the French
Revolutions of 1789 and 1830, when as commander of the National
Guard he appeared to hold the reins of power, was due to forces
beyond his control. Indeed in view of the difficulties he faced
and the conflicting demands and interests of the various groups
which made up his power base, the wonder is he was able to stay on
top as long as he did.
This analysis may or may not be correct--I find it
more persuasive in the case of the events of 1790-91 than 1830--but
without any consideration of the range of theoretical political
options open to him, it remains unconvincing. Furthermore, in the
case of 1830, the appeal to what almost amounts to a culturalist
version of historical inevitability is somewhat undermined by the
acknowledgement that Lafayette's moral scruples--his refusal to
resort to "historical tricks that no honest leader could perform"
(p. 251)--further circumscribed his room for manoeuvre.
It is perhaps a tacit admission of the comparative
weakness of this part of the argument that in the end Kramer rests
his case on Lafayette's importance as an enduring political symbol
rather than as a historical actor. Although he argues with his
customary subtlety and eloquence for Lafayette's continuing
relevance today--his optimistic idealism and faith in the
democratic process as an antidote to the prevailing scepticism and
disillusionment within contemporary Western (perhaps in view of the
recent elections in Great Britain and France, this should just be
American) political culture--the basic point was surely never in
dispute.
Such reservations about the novelty of Kramer's
conclusions can be extended to the work of as a whole. Undoubtedly
it repays reading not just for its interest and importance as an
experiment in method and genre, but also for the ready supply of
incidental insights and sidelights on both period and its central
figure. Yet in neither area do these, I think, quite add up to the
"new readings" promised at the outset. Indeed, to confine
discussion to the man rather than his times, it is surprising that
the picture of Lafayette which emerges from Kramer's "cubist"
treatment is not more complex and varied. Certainly the accounts
of both his dealings with his friends and his involvement in a host
of "minority" political movements suggest a more sympathetic and to
some extent adaptable individual than is often allowed. Small
wonder that someone who lavished such attention and hospitality on
his friends and their friends, and was always ready to "_rendre
service_", was so appreciated by them. Equally his readiness to
take on new radical causes--often indirectly, as in the case of
Fanny Wright's anti-slavery farm project, through the support of
his activist friends--should free him from his unfortunate
association with nineteenth-century liberalism of the stern,
unbending sort. Overall, though, what comes across most strikingly
is the sheer consistency, almost predictability, of his aspirations
and actions through the ups and downs of his long career. In
addition to Lafayette's celebrated love of liberty and liberal
causes, Kramer finds another unifying theme in the story of his
life: within and between the various overlapping worlds in which he
moved, he continually assumed the role of "cross-cultural
mediator".
P. N. Furbank has argued persuasively and
entertainingly in the pages of the _New York Review of Books_ (11
July 1996, pp. 50-52) that the fundamental problem with Kramer's
book derives from the unpromising nature of his subject: quite
simply, Lafayette had no hidden depths for the historian--post-
modern or otherwise--to reveal. No doubt there is much in this
view, but it is not a conclusion we can reach on the basis of
Kramer's work since it offers no explicit exploration of its
subject's inner life. Ironically, in discarding the study of
motive and intention presumably as unwanted baggage of old-style
biography, he has left this field of interpretation in the
possession of the debunkers. More positively, there are other ways
in which Kramer's strategic choices both in terms of methodology
and subject matter may have inadvertently worked to the detriment
of his subject. All come back ultimately to his decision to work
with Lafayette's own narrative of his life rather than challenge or
problematise it. Two of the most intriguing and obscure episodes
of his career--his flirtation with Caesarism in 1791 and with the
insurrectionism of the Carbonari--which might possibly have
subverted the smooth flow of this linear narrative are simply by-
passed. Equally, if Kramer's epistemological stance makes it
impossible for him to confront Lafayette's text of his life with
the historical reality behind it, surely his literary critical
approach should allow and enable him to offer alternative readings
of it. Yet his decision to base his work principally on
Lafayette's correspondence with friends and admirers has deprived
him of one obvious source for such a reading. As a result, by way
of a final irony, a work which is conceived as a radical break with
traditional biography exhibits to some degree one of its notorious
failings: namely, a tendency to take its subject at his or her own
estimation.
John Dunne
University of Greenwich
j.dunne@greenwich.ac.uk
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