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DEPOSITED BY THE

LINONIA AND BROTHERS LIBRARY

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER OF
THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE
(The Chevalier de Poktgibaud)

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
OF THE
WAR OF INDEPENDENCE
(The Chevalier de Pontgibaud)

TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY
ROBERT B. DOUGLAS
AUTHOR OF
THE LIFE AND TIMES OF MADAME DU BARRY
SOPHIE AKNOULD : ACTRESS AND WIT. ETC.

WITH AN ENGRAVED PORTRAIT

NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1898

Authorized Edition.

" The story of my life,
From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have passed." Othello, Act i, sc. 3

Ci.2£.i^4-vv

PREFACE.

The Chevalier de Pontgibaud was one
of the gallant little band of Frenchmen,
who, " sick for breathing and exploit,"
crossed the Atlantic to aid the American
^olonists to gain their independence. Like
most of his companions, he was a mere
lad, courageous, adventurous, high-spirited,

light-hearted, and cool-headed, but he
united to these ordinary attributes of the
French gentleman, one which his comrades
did not possess, or had no opportunity of
developing. He seems to have been a
shrewd observer of men and events, and
he hadakeen sense of humour.
It was not probableT that a youth barely
o_ut_ofhis teens and thinking more ot his
own liberty than the cause in which he

VI

PREFACE.

was engaged, should have noted his im
pressions at the time. They were_written
down more than fort}r years lately- but
that will not detract from the value of a
book which gives vivid pen-portraits of
men about whom much has been writ
ten but of whom much yet remains to be
written. Concerning the author's life, little need
be added to what he tells us, but I am in
debted to his great-great-nephew, the
Comte de Pontgibaud, for some details
which are not to be found in the book.
The Chevalier de Pontgibaud married — 31
July, 1789 — a daughter of Marechal de
Vaux, and the widow of Comte de Fou-
gieres, marechal de camp. He was deeply
attached to her, and only survived her a
few months. She died in 1836 and. he in
1837. From the time of his return to
France (181 4) till his wife's death, he re
sided at~6, Place Royale, Paris, but after
wards removed to the residence of his
nephew, Comte de Pontgibaud, 32, Rue
des Tournelles, where he died.
He was a genial, kind-hearted man,

PREFACE. vii
and it is related of him that in his later
days he never left home without a pocket
ful of five-franc pieces, one of which coins
he would bestow on each poor person he
met. " As I want for nothing myself,"
he said, " let me do all I can for poor peo
ple who do want." Indeed had it not been
for his charitable disposition he would
never in all likelihood3_iSI_wni3^rj^is
book. Hiscousin, Mme. de Lavau, who
was interested in many charitable works,
said to him one day, " My dear cousin,
you have had such an adventurous career
that an account of the principal events of
your life would make a most interesting
book. I would give away the copies as
prizes in a lottery, and I warrant we should
get a large sum for one of my charities."
The proposal was perhaps hardly flatter
ing to the author, but he was too kind-
hearted to refuse, and the book was duly
written. He even permitted a relative
to pad out the volume by the addition of
some singularly dull letters, which, being
devoid of all interest, have been omitted
from the present translation.

vm

PREFACE.

The Memoires du Comte de M-

(the writer was then known as the Comte
de More) has become a rare book, and
appears to have been unknown to many
of the historians and biographers whose
writings relate to the War of Independence
and the actors concerned in it. That the
book is rare and rather valuable is due to
the " book-maniacs," who, have snapped-
up every available copy, not on account of
any interest in the book or its author, but
because of — the printer! A certain young
man had persuaded his relatives to set him
up in business as a printer, but in a little
over a year he contrived to lose more than
150,000 francs. He threw up the business
in disgust, and resolved to make his liv
ing by the pen. To prove that he was
better fitted to compose with the pen than
with the " stick," it needs but to cite his
name, — Honore de Balzac! Even a book
which had the honour of proceeding from
the novelist's unprofitable press has ac
quired a fictitious value.
Both as the Chevalier de Pontgibaud
and the Marquis de More, the author had

PREFACE. ix
the good sense to keep out of politics, and
his name occurs but rarely in memoirs and
histories of the day. In Vatel's Vie de
Madame du Barry he is mentioned as being
present at a dinner party to which she was
invited. The incident is related in the
MS. Memoirs of Comte Dufort de Che-
verny. " Seeing that the Chevalier wore
the Order of Cincinnatus, she told us the
following story. ' When I was at Ver
sailles, I had the six tallest and best look
ing footmen that could be found, but the
noisiest, laziest rascals that ever lived.
The ring-leader of them gave me so much
trouble that I was obliged to send him
away. The war in America was then be
ginning, and he asked for letters of recom
mendation. I gave them, and he left me
with a well filled purse, and I was glad
to get rid of him. A year ago he came to
see me, and he was wearing the Order
of Cincinnatus.' We all laughed at the
story, except the Chevalier de Pontgi
baud." On the fly leaf of a book in the Library
at Clermont Ferrand there are also some

x PREFACE.
MS. notes — supposed to be written by
Comte Thomas d'Espinchal — relating to
the Chevalier de Pontgibaud. It is there
stated that the Chevalier furnished Talley
rand with the means of returning to France
by lending him 600 louis. It is not im
probable, and as the Ex-Bishop would be
absolutely certain to forget the obliga
tion, this may account for certain se
vere remarks about Talleyrand to be
found towards the close of the present
volume. In editing the Chevalier's Memoirs I
have done little more than identify the per
sonages named only by initials, and supply
notes concerning them, correct one or two
dates, and strike out a passage or two that
was not according to modern taste. As
a translator I have endeavoured, as I al
ways do, to render the original as faithfully
as could be, and preserve the style and
spirit of the author. The only liberty I
have taken with the text is to cut up some
of the sentences, for a few of them were
of an inordinate length. If it should be
found that the style is not always of the

PREFACE.

XI

purest, it should be remembered that the
Chevalier was a man of action, _and was
fighting for the freedom of America at an
age when less adventurous youths are
quietly pursuing their studies.

Robt. B. Douglas.
Paris.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Birth — Early days — Education — Out in the world —
Sent to the prison of Pierre-en-Cize by order of
the King  I
CHAPTER II.
Eighteen months in prison — A plan of escape success
fully carried out — Armed resistance — Sheltered by
a Lyons merchant — Arrival in Auvergne — A family
compact — A compromise effected — Departure to
join the, so-called " insurgent army " in America . 18
CHAPTER III.
Wrecked in Chesapeake Bay — Williamsburg — Mr.
Jefferson — Aspect of the country between Wil
liamsburg and the Camp at Valley Forges — De
scription of the American Army — Welcomed by
Marquis de la Fayette — He appoints me his aide-
de-camp — My mission to the Oneida Indians —
American ideas of the French — The Camp at
Valley Forges — General Howe's dog — Attempted

xiv A FRENCH VOLUNTEER PAGE
sortie of the British Army from Philadelphia — The
passage of the Schuylkill, and return — Our ambu
lance surgeon — Evacuation of Philadelphia — De
feat at Rareton Rivers — Battle and Victory at
Monmouth — New York blockaded — Arnold's trea
son — Arrest, trial, and execution of Major Andre' —
The Earl of Carlisle and Marquis de la Fayette —
Comte d'Estaing before New York — Siege of New
port, Rhode Island, by Gen. Sullivan — I am charged
with the re-victualling of the French fleet — The
siege of Newport raised — Our departure for France
on board the frigate Alliance — A storm and its
consequences — Mutiny on board — Capture of a
British cruiser — Arrival at Brest . . . .46
CHAPTER IV.
I visit my father, and am restored to his good graces —
Arrival in Paris — Welcomed by all my relatives —
Unexpected appointment as deputy-captain — Or
dered to Lorient — Paul Jones and Captain Landais
— Counter orders — Re-embark on frigate Alliance
to rejoin Washington's army — In the absence of
Paul Jones, the command of the frigate is given
to Landais — He becomes insane during the voyage
— Removed from his command by order of the
passengers — The campaign of 1781 — Siege of York
Town— The Capitulation of Cornwallis— End of
the American War on the Continent — I return to
France on the Ariel, commanded by Chevalier de
Capellis— We fight and capture the British vessel
Dublin — We enter Corunna in triumph— Fetes,
Balls, etc. — A religious difficulty— We narrowly es
cape figuring in an auto-da-fi— The Ariel weighs
anchor — Arrival at Lorient  I08

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. xv
CHAPTER V. PAGE
Proposed expedition to Senegal — A visit to Pierre-en-
Cize — The reception I met with there — The repu
tation I had left behind me — Institution of the
Order of Cincinnatus, which I am one of the first
to receive — The pleasures of peace ; mathematics
and the violin — Expedition to Cochin-China — An
Oriental Young Pretender — Eastern presents —
The year 1789 — Physical and political signs of an
approaching Revolution — Infatuation of the people
at Versailles and Paris — Delille — Nostradamus —
Cazotte — La Fayette and my French comrades of
the Order of Cincinnatus side with the Revolution
ary party — I emigrate with my brother — The cam
paign in Champagne — The retreat — We arrive in
Switzerland and establish ourselves at Lausanne
— An account of the members of our little family
— How an important house of business was founded
— Unexpected news — I am called to the United
States to receive ten thousand dollars, back pay
and interest — I embark at Hamburg and go to
receive my money  134
CHAPTER VI.
My third voyage to the United States — Philadelphia
transformed into a new Sidon — The same sim
plicity of manners — Mr. MacHenry, Secretary of
War — M. Duportail — Moreau de Saint-Mery — I
meet my old friends again — A triple partnership
with Senator Morris at the head of it — Burke's
prophecy — Plans proposed to me — Viscount
Noailles — The Bishop of Autun — A mission to
the Directory to claim an indemnity — Marino, the

xvi A FRENCH VOLUNTEER. PAGE
pastry-cook, and M. de Volney — The Princes of
Orleans — An elephant with a French driver — A
trip to New York — Colonel Hamilton — Past, pres
ent, and future of the United States — I meet the
Chevalier de la C  Our recollections of M. de la
Fayette — His escape from the fortress of Olmutz —
Dr. Bollman — My return to Europe and arrival at
Hamburg  i"0
CHAPTER VII.
Arrival at Hamburg — Departure for France — I be
come a smuggler at Antwerp — Condition of France
— My residence in France — Departure for Trieste
— Joseph la Brosse, the banker — The Governors
Junot, Bertrand, Fouche (Duke of Otranto) — Gus-
tavson, King of Sweden — Jer6me Bonaparte . . 218
Biographical Notes  271

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
OF THE
WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

CHAPTER I.
Birth — Early days — Education — Out in the world — Sent
to the prison of Pierre-en- Cize by order of the King.
My father — Cesar de More Chaliers,
Comte de Pontgibaud — has often informed
me that I came into the world on_gist
Agril1__i75&,* My mother, whose maiden
name was Marie Charlotte de Salaberry,
was, I believe, at that time a young and
pretty woman, but I can recollect very
little about her, as she died whilst I was
still very young, from a shock caused by
being suddenly told some bad news.
* See note A, p. 271, as to the actual words employed
in the original. 2 1

2 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
I derive my family title from the noble
old castle in which my father and mother
lived. The chateau possessed battlements,
solid walls, towers black with age, and of
undoubted historic interest, — but it was
not a cheerful residence all the same.
My father was lord of the small town
of Pontgibaud, and a good number of par
ishes round, and united in his own person
all the feudal rights of lay and clerical
patronage, — for he nominated the cures of
most of the neighbouring villages. The
Comte and Comtesse de Chaliers lived
amongst their vassals, who were all de
pendent on their bounty. No one in the
district knew anyrhirip- shrmt *k____a£^q.
oTman, but all did know, and practise, the
duties of gratitude_,.and respept, It is a
fact that whenever my mother went out,
the women and children fell on their knees,
and called for heaven's blessing on their
lady, and the men, even the oldest, took
off their caps when they saw their master
and mistress coming, and set the church
bells ringing. What harm was there in

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 3
this interchange of protection on one side,
and love on the other? Wer^_J____y..ji,Qt
lijcechiklren honouring their ,fa_li__c~-a--d
mote? —
The huge, old castle overlooked the
town, and the fertile valley watered by the
Sioule, which stretches far away to the
peaks of the Monts d'Or, but like all the
valleys in Auvergne, though the view
looked so pleasant and peaceful when the
elements were at rest, it would sometimes
assume in one night a quite different as
pect; like the gaves of the Pyrenees, our
brooks swell into torrents after a single
storm, and the floods render the country
not only dreary but dangerous.
Custom makes as many victims as im
prudence, and the natives of the country
really run more risk than travellers, be
cause they are less cautious and more dar
ing. One of our neighbours, a friend of
my parents, Comte de Mont  , return
ing home one night on horseback, missed
the ford, which he thought he knew well,
and was drowned in the Sioule, which was
then in flood. The news of this accident

4 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
was announced to my mother in too sud
den a manner, and gave her a shock from
which she never recovered.
With the exception of some trifling in
cidents, which might have happened to
anybody, I can remember nothing that oc
curred, that deserves to be recounted, from
the time that I was weaned till I was ten
years old. I had, however, somewhat of
the same character which Plutarch re
marked in Alcibiades.
I was brought up almost entirely by my
maternal grandmother, la Presidente de
Salaberry. One day at dinner, she said to
me, " My boy, will you have some spin
ach? "
" I don't like spinach," I replied.
" At your age you ought to like every
thing, my boy. You will have some spin
ach." " I will not eat it."
" You will eat it; " and down came my
plate with the spinach on it.
My own recollection of the event is
hazy, but it appears that I took the plate,

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 5
and threw the spinach into my grand
mother's face, — much to her grief and as
tonishment, and that of everybody else
who was present. She said, " Go to your
own room," and I went.
My grandmother, — a very quiet, pious,
and respectable old lady, — was far more
troubled by the occurrence than I was,
for I could only see that it was wrong to
try and make me eat spinach when I had
said that I didn't like it. The dear old lady
put it all down to God's will and the irre
sponsibility of childhood, and said to her
old servant,
" Lepage, go to my grandchild, and tell
him to come and beg my pardon; and here
is a louis that you may give him from
me." The old servant had no doubt whatever
as to the success of his mission, since he
had a free pardon and a louis to offer the
rebel. He delivered his message, and
wound up by saying:
" Come, monsieur le chevalier! Here is
a louis that your good grandmamma
charged me to give you; so come and beg

6 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
her pardon, and eat your spinach like a
good boy."
The louis met with the same fate as
the plate, for I threw it in the old man's
face. " Does my grandmother think," I
cried, " that I can be bribed into making
an apology? "
I suppose I was very proud of this re
ply, for I often used to think of it after
wards, and do still sometimes, though now
I estimate it at what it is worth. As for
the little domestic drama, it probably fin
ished like all others of the same kind; the
little chevalier made an apology, ate his
spinach, and was pardoned by his grand
mother, — but I have disliked spinach from
that day to this.
But this picture of my youth is only
a page from universal history; — an event
which might, or does, occur to everybody
of the same age and condition.
In 1773 I laid_aside the toga praetexta,
and put on the toga virile, — or, in other
words? 1 aVtame^niiy"slxleen'tTi '"year. **
¦^BerTTE^stb1rnTs'""oriife began to beat

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 7
upon me, for^almost from the beginning,
my life has b^en^adventufOTig: — TE? narra-
tion of all that I havFluffered, seen, done,
and noticed, from Pierre-en-Cize to New
York, from Boston to Coblentz, by sea or
by land, in both hemispheres, will not be
without interest and profit to my friend
the reader, whoever he may be, or what
ever his age. Fortune set me adrift in a
rudderless boat, but I managed to steer
it somehow, and am now safe in port, and
not dissatisfied on the whole with my long
voyage. My bad luck did not astonish
me greatly, or my good luck either for that
matter; from whence I conclude, that
whoever reads me will be more surprised
than I either was, or am. My trials began
when I was sixteen years old, and I defy
M. Azais to classify them in his system of
compensations.* I must here state that my father had
two brqthers-in-laWj who .were excellent
* Pierre Hyacinthe Azais, b. 1766, d. 1845. The author
of a stupid, and now forgotten book, entitled The Com
pensations of Destiny, which effectually destroyed what
little celebrity the author had ever enjoyed.

8 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
.unde^tome^and, with the best intentions
in the world^jdid^me^ajFt^^E^mJjney
c^dxT-uiTas their intentions were good,
I suppose they will not have to answer
to God for their misdeeds. The one was
the President de Salaberry, and the other
Baron d'A  , who, having become a
widower, took for his second wife Madame
P  , a widow with a grown-up daugh
ter. Madame P  , now my aunt, mar-
rj__i____u__dau^htej^^ arid
I suppose I interfered with her projects and
calculations, but at any rate she certainly
was not kindly disposed towards me, and
by dint of curtain 'lectures at last per
suaded her_easy-going, credulous husband,
mx_uncle, to shareTin her dislike of me.
My brother, and my •young" sister-in-law,
had something to do with the schemes of
my aunt (her mother, and his mother-in-
law), for I have some idea, — in fact I am
almost certain, — that her cordial dislike to
me was the effect of her maternal tender
ness. I was only a " cadet of Auvergne,"
and my brother was the elder, and by the
simple application of one of the four rules

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. g
of arithmetic, — subtraction, — it appeared
evident to her, that if I were out of the
way, her daughter would be,___irLi_ae_jevent
of anything happening to my brother, —
soTe heiress to the estate, undiminished by
the paymenFbf my~portion. The prospect
seemed tempting: I will not say that it was
fair and honourable conduct, but it was
not her fault that the end did not crown
the work, as will be seen.
After the death of my mother, my fa
ther did not revisit Paris,_b^Jived__in his
old castle, and hoarded up the revenues
of his vast domains. Ijpassed. I believe,
two or three years at Juilly, ujn^jxJJaejttQre
or less affectionate care of my uncle, the
second husband of a^s^coird^vm^rT^iiCrced
up solnelearmrig-^— very much against my
will, — under the reverend fathers of the
Oratory, but, when I left them, I was not
precisely what would be termed a good
scholar. If I had shown an inclination to

learn anything, it was certainly not Greek
or Latin, nor had I much cultivated the
flowers of rhetoric.
X I then wgnt to college, but resided in

IO A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
my uncle's house, and he was supposed to
watch over me. As a matter of fact no one
troubled his head about me. To the out
side world I appeared to be in the bosom
of my own family, and under the watchful
eyes of affectionate relatives, but in reality
I was left to mv own devices, and at six-
teen_wj3£jmdexjoa^ ""At this critical period of my existence,
no one had said what they wanted me to
be, nor had I been consulted on the sub-
j'ect. For my own part I neither knew,
nor cared. I was sixteen _je_U^l_sJdj-ffia__ in
T^^^anTmy own, j}Z2£l£X-~Ji™w&&~g£Xltb.-
j^~ ^jg0r0US)^ j^^-hjaxte^_J__quiid±_Ke,
Imcf Inexperienced, and,.jy^_iat__dT_._Like
"everyone_eJsjs*„ta_acqilke^e_sperienc€.At_iny own expense;  With. j-0-fcie_i4sy~aiwl_,np
one to guide me, it would have been a
miracle indeed if idleness and wanF^jrc-
cupation""fiad not jfecf me into mischief.
"But the watchful eyes of persons who bore
me no good-will followed my every move
ment. They did not have to wait long to
detect me in some act of thoughtlessness,
quickly followed by other and graver ones,

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. n
and my aunt made it her constant care to
spitefi£lyj.xaggerate_all .my faults ariOe-
pTcT~"thei_ras crimes to my uncle, and
tHroTaglTK'm to my TatKef, "wno walXHun-
dred" leagues away from the"*capitai"
-"-— tt-was •IM'de'to appear TH^aTaTTtFie laws
of nature and the divine order of things
had been upset, because a blundering,
stupid school-boy of sixteen had commit
ted a few trifling excesses. Of course, I
had had recourse to the money-lenders.
They are ready enough to come to the aid
of any extravagant young man, but I had
saved them that trouble by going to them.
The whole extent of my vice was, that I
was acquainted with some young women
of easy morals, andjhadjtn^adj_s^me_djbts,
which, as I was allowed no pocket-money,
and was not a coiner, was hardly a matter
for surprise. What they said, or what they
did, or what .charges my aunt brought
against me, I know _not-_ buMt^JF"certairi
that my father^was.Jffll.lQ--xegard.me„<is
a monster of iniquity, and no£-~oafy-tQ
give his consent, but even Jo ^ order Jmtha.t
a'famiTy cquncil_should be .called Jto. delib-

12 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
erate on my case. I might have confessed
that I had done neither more nor less than
a young blockhead of sixteen, left to him
self in Paris, might be expected to do, and
they must have acknowledged that I was
innocent of something like seven-eighths
of the capital sins, but my aunt had so
mixed up the true with the false, and the
false with the probable, that my poor old
father did not doubt fOT_anJng.tanjL.biit
tl!arT^vas*TapaXTe : of ever^^rim^^winjd-
inJ^jTp — since I had not commenced with
it — by parricide. I am not overstating the
case, absurd as it may sound.
Unhappily for me, all the fathers in
Auvergne were just then in a state of
fright, — an epidemic of terror had seized
them all. There are weak minded people
in castles as well as in huts, and fools are
to be found in aristocratic drawing-rooms
as well as in the sixth floor garrets of city
houses. About this time, it was said that
many young children had disappeared, and
this, coupled with the report that the
Dauphin was suffering from some strange
malady, led many of the good citizens of

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 13
Paris to believe that the Prince had been
ordered blood baths, and that all the young
innocents who were lost had gone to fill
his tub, — which caused a good many
wooden-headed, wooden-shoed mothers to
hide their offspring, as they did in the time
of Herod.* At this time also, a rumour was cur
rent in Auvergne that yj^u.ug-..C__rnte de
M  had tried to poison his father in a
dish of eggs and tripe. Whether there was
any foundation for this terrible charge, I
cannot say, but it is a fact that all the
fathers in Auvergne took the matter seri
ously. Jerror reigned under the domes
tic roof, and there was not a son who was
not suspected of parricidal intentioTiirancl
all the hea_fs~"oT "families talked of living
without eating at all, for fear of this fatal
dish of eggs and tripe.
* The writer has made a mistake here. It was Louis
XV, not the Dauphin, who was supposed to bathe in the
blood of children. The rumour was current in 1750, or
twenty-four years earlier than the date here given, and led
to riots which were suppressed with some loss of life, and
the ringleaders were hanged " on gibbets 40 feet high."
See Dareste's History of France, Vol. vi, p. 416. ,

14

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

Though only sixteen years old, I also
came under thj^jgrribj^^ and
when, "aVtliFrequest or order of my father,
the family council met, it was with no
friendly fedmg__Jowi_rd5__j^
being heardln. my_ own dejence,— for the
"ver3Ict"was intended to be j.n agreeabk
surprise to me, I suppose,— :I.,was»accuae<-».
tried, and condemnedJby_^Ljn^y™r^laJd¥fiS,
wTEfTj^
german? the Marquis de M  , an officer
in the First Regiment of Cavalry. And it
cannot be said either that this family meet
ing was like that of la fausse Agnes.*
There was my uncle, the maitre des comptes,
my uncle the President de Salaberry, the
Marquis de R  , brigadier-general in the
King's army, and my wise and respectable
cousin M. Th  , captain in the guards.
I do not remember what other notabilities
were present, except my belle tante, wheez
ing up and down the corridor, and e_y~
father, emptying the vials of his paternal
* An allusion to a once well-known comedy by Des-
touches, acted at the Com-die Francaise in 1759.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

IS

ISSy cousin the Marquis de M— - — , a young
soldier accustomed to courts-martial, and
knowing how to proportion the punish
ment to the offence, was the only one who
refused_to lightly consign to imprisonment,
— perhaps_lor]5^ T
will, however, do my other relatives the
justice to acknowledge that they were
sorry afterwards : this they have all since
proved to me, — all save my aunt, who has
never spoken to me, and whom I have

never asked. May God judge her.
"It is 'nevertheless true that, thanks to
my kind relations, not one of whom would
willingly have done a wrong or an injustice
to any person, the following royal order
was issued against me.
" ist February, 1775.
"The Chevalier de Pontgibaud.. being
of a fierce and violent character, and refusing
to~ltb~~work lFMlfiy~fcin~d~, is to be taken to
Saint Lazaf^T^t^HiTexpense of his father."

Vt'TJlfl-tf)'**--S«_t*J,»'**

But in the margin of the rojalordeiv—
which I have seen in the register preserved

1 6 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
in the archives, — is written, " Transferred
to Pierre-en-Cize, 19th February, 1775."
It is clear also, from the date, that the
lettre de cachet must have been signed " La
Vrilliere," for his successor, M. de Males-
herbes, would certainly have refused to put
his name to it.*
Where were human justice, a father's
wisdom, the voice of nature, and the ties
of blood? And yet I can honestly aver
that my relatives, who all belonged to a
high rank of society, were the best mean
ing people in the world, — all gentleness,
and kindness, — though, perhaps, I should
add, except towards me, and except on
that occasion. That was the sad effect of
prejudice. If you have respectable, well-

* De Malesherbes never issued an order unless good
cause was shown, and released many of the persons who
had been imprisoned by his predecessors. He had, at the
date given, been Minister for the last three months, but
being busily engaged in putting to rights the State finances,
was probably unable to look after other affairs. The Due
de la Vrilliere allowed his mistress to do quite an extensive
business in lettres de cachet, and she would sell a blank
form (which the purchaser could fill in according to taste)
for 50 louis.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

17

to-do people for your judges, they may be
mistaken like anyone else; and their judg
ments are severe, and not always just.
Accordingly you see that, on the sole
charge of having, — at sixteen, — " a fierce
and violent character, and refusing to do
any kind of work," I found myself on the
19th February, 1 775, on the road from
Paris to Lyon, "or, mor^strictly speaking,
oTrTh^~road~ToPierre-en-Cize. The child
Ii1_ar~°By~_iis"^side his nurse, — I mean a
gendarme, — and before him the pleasant^
prospect qf_ remaXning-.,Jkid_£d«.xip-__or „.±he
remainder of his life.

t.8 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

CHAPTER II.
fjgb^f" "Wnthw '" p*-'"""— A plan of escape successfully
carried out — Armed resistance — Sheltered by a Lyons
merchant — Arrival in Auvergne — A family compact —
A compromise effected — Departure to join the, so-called,
" insurgent army " in America.
In order that the intelligent reader may
follow my narrative with interest, it is in
dispensable that I should here describe the
castle of Piprtp-pn-Cigfi the residence that
I had taken on a long lease, or rather for
an indefinite period, and of which I was
an unwilling tenant. I must first though
say something of the locality.
In Piganiol de la Force (see his De
scription of France) we find: " Pierre-en-
Cize, or Pierre-Seise, a castle of France,
and a«_Sta£___£riee«, near the Saone, and
opposite Lyon. There are in this castle
a captain on half pay, a company of thirty
infantry soldiers, a lieutenant, and a ser
geant."

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. ig
That is all that a historian, a traveller,
and a poet, could say about Pierre-en-Cize,
— not having had an opportunity of exam
ining the place closely. To properly de
scribe the castle, one ought to have lived
there, and been a State prisoner there, as
I have been, but I do not think it likely
that anyone will envy me my knowledge,
considering how it was attained.
The castle of Pierre-en-Cize was the
country house of the Archbishops of Lyon,
and as far as situation and outlook are con
cerned, is a pleasant residence enough. It
is not like the castle of Lourdes, surround
ed by cloud-capped peaks, resembling a
solitary cypress tree in a chaos of rocks, a
veritable battle-field of the Titans. It is
not like Mont St. Michel either, where,
half the year, every twelve hours, the waves
beat against the walls of your prison, the
tempests roll under your feet, and the cry
of the shipwrecked sailors echoes through
the cells. Without prejudice, I may say
that, as far as the view goes, Pierre-en-
Cize is infinitely more pleasant, but there
is no such thing as a nice prison, and, all

20 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
things considered, it must be owned that,
— when one is behind the bars, — the smil
ing fields, the harvests, the forests, the
flocks, the sight of men at liberty, though
they make a delightful picture, are only an
added punishment to the poor prisoner.
Let me now give in my own fashion,
and according to my own observations, a
topographical and picturesque description
of Pierre-en-Cize, internally and external
ly. It may be confidently accepted as cor
rect, for I may say with truth, " I have
seen." The castle is situated on the banks of
the Saone, as you enter Lyon by the fau
bourg of Vaize. It stands on a high and
steep hill, which you ascend by steps cut
in the rock. At the main-gate is a guard
house, occupied by a company of the Lyon-
nais regiment, — some of them veterans,
but a good number young soldiers of good
conduct, admitted into the garrison as a
favour. There was no possible means of
escape this way; moreover, the prisoners
were only allowed to walk in a portion of
the courtyard; the sentinel stopped them

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 2I
if they passed the boundary, — a big chest
nut tree, which I can still see in my mind's
eye. The castle is a square building, having
at the north-west corner a very large
tower, at the end of the courtyard on the
right hand side. All the walls are very
high; that part of the castle which looks
towards the faubourg of Vaize is to the
north-east, and is only accessible on that
side by a road cut in the hill for the pur
pose of bringing up wood, wine, and other
provisions and necessaries, which are all
brought on the backs of mules. Whenever
anything of this kind arrives, the entire
guard turns out under arms, and, as long
as the gates are open, half the soldiers
stand outside, and the other half just in
side, the gateway. But by observing as
much as I could, I was able to form some
idea as to the nature of the ground on that
side, which had hitherto been unknown to
me, I having arrived by the gate which
overlooks the river Saone, by which, as I
have said before, escape was impossible.
After having mounted the rock, I was

22 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
conducted through the courtyard, and
found myself at the foot of the great tower,
the situation of which I have already de
scribed. I was led up a winding staircase
to a wooden gallery, and locked in cell No.
I, close to the tower, the circular wall of
which formed one side of my cell. I found,
in this agreeable abode, the regulation
prison-furniture; a wretched bed, pushed
against the rounded wall of the tower, a
chair, a table, and the usual big jar of
water. Light came from the inside court,
through a window well garnished with
bars, and looking on the gallery. Such
was my prison, and such were the obstacles
I should have to surmount in order to
get out of it, but I had no sooner put my
foot inside the tower than I resolved to
attempt to make my escape, and that as
soon as I possibly could. The contrivance,
the patience, the hard work, and the bold
ness of my escape, which I made in full
daylight, and with arms in my hand, ren
dered me somewhat celebrated in the his
tory of Pierre-en-Cize. The castle was de
stroyed in the Revolution (in 1791), but it

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

23

is a fact that from 1777 till the time the
fortress was demolished, every young pris
oner who was confined there longed to
emulate the prowess of Pontgibaud. It
will be seen that for a prisoner, aged only
eighteen, to make his escape is a feat of
which I may bTaTToWed "tor bO'ASFT
No pupil of Vauban ever made more
calculationsand plans how to get into a
stronghold tb~an 1 did how to get out of
mine. I said to myself, " This castle is
accessible on the side where I am. I ought
to be able to cut through the wall where
it joins the tower. The wall and the tower
were built at different times, and though
the facings are in hard stone, there is sure
to be only rubble between, — more particu
larly in the angle where the straight wall
joins the round tower. All that is needed
is time and patience,' and that I will have."
The prisoner who had occupied the
cell before me had a talent for painting,
and a taste for botany. He had amused
himself by painting all sorts of flowers on
the walls, and, which was greatly in my
favour, he had painted a dark blue border,

24

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

about two and a half feet high, all round
the room. I may note also as a strange
freak of chance, that this predecessor was
a near relative of my aunt. I will not say
that she had anything to do with his im
prisonment, for I never inquired the rea
son of it, but at any rate it caused the cell
to seem quite like a family apartment. The
purchase of a quantity of blue paper, — the
paper in which hair powder is usually
packed, — was therefore one of my first
steps, for the sapper required a mantlet
behind which he could work. Above all,
I had need of money. Money has been
called the sinews of war, and is certainly
necessary in all great enterprises, and no
enterprise was greater in my eyes than that
which absorbed all my thoughts. Virgil
has said, Quid non mortalia pectora cogis
Auri sacra fames.
If he had been in my place he would
have said, as I did, sacra fames libertatis.
I received fifty francs a month, to en
able me to supplement my scanty fare with

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 25
better food, and hire books. I found means
to augment this scanty income by copy
ing music in the daytime. The Amphions
of Lyon had many a score from my hand,
and I had their money; they were, with
out knowing it, half accomplices in my es
cape. I procured some cardboard, with
which I made shutters to my window, be
cause at ten o'clock the sentinel ordered
us to put out our lights. I bought, under
various pretexts, some small knives, and as
we were supplied with wood for the win
ter, I manufactured out of the largest fag
gots, short levers intended to make an
opening through the wall, without any
noise, by working with them between the
stones. I also procured, through the help
of my laundress, some bullets, gunpowder,
and a double-barrelled pistol. Trust in
women, and you will never have cause to
repent it. If they consent to help you,
they will never betray you, and they will
keep your secret as they would keep their
own. This is not always the case with
men. If there is cited against me the
mother of Papirius Praetextatus, I will re-

26 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
ply with the name of Epicharis;* and as
regards men my worthy laundress was more
discreet than Turenne.
I had now nothing to do but set to
work. The angle made by the wall and
the tower was concealed by my bed. I
commenced to tunnel at this spot, taking
care not to surpass the limit of the blue
paint. My paper, which was of the same
colour, covered and concealed my sapping.
I worked four hours every night. I was
careful to sweep away all signs of work,
and to neatly replace the blue paper be
fore my " gate of safety." As to the rub
bish I took out, I carefully carried it in
handkerchiefs, and easily disposed of it by
throwing it down the latrine used by the
prisoners. This was at the foot of the
staircase inside the tower. My cell was
No. i, and being so close to the stairs, I
* Epicharis, a freed woman of bad repute, who con
spired against Nero. When the plot was discovered she
was horribly tortured but would not reveal the names of
her accomplices. She strangled herself with her girdle to
escape further torture. The " Mother of Praetextatus " is,
I suppose, the person mentioned in Livy VI., 32 — 38, but
if so the comparison is not well chosen. ED.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

27

could descend twenty times a day with
out being noticed, and, by a lucky chance
also, the cesspool was a sort of well of
great depth.
My labour was greatly lessened by the
fact that the wall, — as I had hoped, — did
not join the tower in the centre, there was
a gap of two or three inches; and through
out the whole of my labours, in digging
through a wall nine or ten feet thick, I
only met with one very large stone. It
caused me some disappointment, and led
me to take counsel with myself. This huge
stone presented an acute angle towards
me. I attacked the wall round it, but with
no great hope of success. Judge of my
joy and surprise when I felt it yield under
my poor little lever, like a loose tooth. I
soon had the happiness to lay it bare, and
then drag it out of my mole-run. I did not
think of breaking it up, but hid it, as it
was, in my mattress. It was found there
later on, and figured in the report on my
escape; but it did not tend to make my
bed feel any the more comfortable. The
first part of the work was the most diffi-

28 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
cult, because the nine or ten inches of
plaster I had to get through, prevented
my seeing the real positions of the stones,
which I had then to attack very warily
for fear that they should bring down with
them, when they fell, some of the plaster
above the line of blue paint. I made my
tunnel so that, when I had crawled in on
my stomach, I could then draw up my legs,
and sit like a journeyman tailor. The light
to work by, I obtained in the best way I
could, by converting pomade pots into
lamps, filling them with lard, and inserting
a bit of wick.
The " solution of continuity," existing
between the wall and the tower, allowed
me to respire the external air, which was
a great relief to me. I calculated that I
had still nearly four feet of masonry to
cut through, and that I was about half
through my work, when, about eleven
o'clock or midnight, I heard a voice pro
nounce these terrible words:
" Look, papa, there is a light at the
foot of the castle tower."
The words were uttered by a little boy,

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 2Q
the son of the gardener. My blood ran
cold; I put my hand over my little lamp,
but the burn and the fright were the worst
that was to happen to me. The worthy
man thought that the child was mistaken,
and so I was saved.
The work was at last finished; — it had
occupied me forty-five nights. What
thoughts crowded in upon me. This wall
ten feet thick was now nothing for me but
a thin partition of a few inches; with a
kick, or a push with my shoulder, I could
throw down the feeble barrier which sepa
rated me from the world and from liberty.
But then what should I do when I was
free? I was without means, — for I had
but six francs in my pocket. Then, should
I make my escape alone? JWoul44i_iia_J.e
more hon[f)imh1f* tn..j-B______-_Uh«M4y»all my
compjjnigjas_4-_"4»-_fosto
self? They must be all innocent, for they.
said "theywere. What a debt they would
OweTne"lor "the rest of their lives, and be
sides, if we were attacked we should be
able to defend ourselves.
I resolved on adopting this noble idea,

3°

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

but I would say nothing beforehand, — for
fear I should be betrayed.
I suspended my labours the following
day, and when we re-entered the castle to
be locked up in our several cells, I told
five or six of the prisoners to come to
No. I as soon as the doors were opened
in the morning, and I would inform them
of a certain means of escape.
I could not get them all out at night;
it would be necessary to break through all
the walls which separated the cells, with all
the chances of being discovered or be
trayed, but the regulations of the prison
greatly favoured another plan.
Our cell doors were opened at precise
ly seven o'clock every morning, and our
food was brought to us at ten; thus there
were three hours during which nobody
paid any attention to us.
The night before the projected attempt
it was impossible for me to close my eyes,
with such inquietude and impatience did
I await the appointed hour. I will even
confess that several times I was tempted
to make my escape alone, but I resisted

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

31

the thought. When the breach was
opened, I did not know what height I
should have to descend, therefore, during
the night, I cut up my sheets and linen
to make a rope if necessary.
At last the hour struck, the lock
turned, and the gaoler entered, and wished
me good day, as usual. My five comrades
soon appeared; one of them said to me,
in a mocking voice,
" Well, let us know this fine plan."
" The plan," I replied, " is in this cor
ner, behind this wall — which is only paper.
Let us make haste."
" Is it possible? " they cried.
" He found this hole ready made. — It
is not finished. What is there gained by
that? "
" It is not finished — but it can be with
a single push. — Let those who love me
follow me."
We fastened my sheets to the leg of
my bed; I took the end of this hastily de
vised cord, and entered the narrow pas
sage. I was in a nankeen vest, and had
in my pockets six cartridges, a double-

32

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

barrelled pistol, and a strong " spring-
back" knife. I cannot describe my emo
tion. I trembled all over with hope and
fear. Someone behind me cried, " Make
haste." In a few moments I had pushed
down the wall, which was only a thin parti
tion of stones, but the opening was so
narrow that two or three minutes, — which
seemed to my impatience like two or three
centuries, for there was not a moment to
lose, — elapsed before I could get my shoul
ders free. At the sound of the stones rat
tling down, the gardener, who was at work
below, ran to his cottage, built against the
castle wall, and rang the alarm bell. The
guard turned out, and took up their posi
tion on the very spot I should have to
pass, for it would take me eight or ten
minutes to descend to the foot of the
tower, and I should then find myself be
tween the castle gates and the soldiers.
One prisoner alone. M. de L  . dared
to follow me^-the others recoiled at the
sight of danger, — but my comrade was
only armed with a broomstick pointed at
both ends. The tocsin sounded, and all

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 33
the windows which looked out on this side
of the castle were filled with spectators.
The major commanding the castle came
running out in his drawers, and with bare
legs, and crying, " Load your arms! " He
ordered me to go back, and threatened
that I should be fired on if I did not. My
only reply was to present my pistol, and
order him to go back himself.
The major ran away, crying, " Fire on
the scoundrels ! " I fancy I can still see
the old sergeant, who was a friend of mine,
his musket levelled, but trembling in his
hands, and hear him beg of me to go back.
I took no notice; we were at fifteen paces
from each other. I advanced boldly — ten
or twelve muskets went off at the same
moment; — I replied with a single shot and
charged furiously into the midst of them.
I heard on all sides cries of " Bravo !
Bravo ! " and applause at the windows. I
was assailed with the butts j^jnusketg;
and received blows of which my ribs
showed the marks for long afterwards; my
vest was nearly torn off, and my hair pulled
out. My poor comrade__.De L  was

34

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

wounded and thrown down^ after having
knocked out the eye of one~oTthe soldiers,
and bitten the finger of another ;-rthj_y__all
threw themselves upon him, and — I was
saved. Incidit in Scyllam, — I was in a narrow
lane between two walls, which I did not
dare to leap, being closely pursued by the
youngest soldiers of the troop, who were
crying behind me, " Stop! Stop! " I pre
sented my weapon at all who tried to bar
my passage, and received more bows and
salutes than I have ever had eit_ielr~BeIofe
l_r._jmici_III_L^^ was nearly a quarter of a league long, or at
least seemed so to me. Hearing no more
cries of " Stop! Stop! " I rested for a few
minutes, and reloaded my pistol, when all
of a sudden th^reappeared within ten paces
of me, four soldiers who had pursued me
for the sake of the reward. I put my back
against the wall, and they stopped short.
"Well, sir," said one of them, "you
see you are caught, — you can't go any fur
ther. It was good of .you to try to save
all the others; — if they had all been as

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

35

brave as you they would have succeeded,
but they were cowards. Come back, sir;
you run no risk, and your relations will
soon take you out of prison. Besides, you
haven't hurt anybody; it was the Marquis
de L  who wounded two of our men."
I listened quietly till they had finished,
for I wanted to regain my breath. Then
I replied, " Go away! I don't want to hurt you,
but I swear that I will never be taken alive.
There are four of you, and I can rely on
killing at least two." And with that I held
out my pistol in one hand, and my knife in
the other.
They looked at me a minute, and then
one said,
" Good-bye. You are a brave young
fellow. A pleasant journey, and good luck
to you; " and they went away.
I also ran off, but without exactly
knowing where I was going. The clang
of the alarm bell, and the firing, had al
ready caused rumours to be in circulation
about me, and the name of the prisoner,
and his bold escape, were known in Vaize.

36

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

Women came to their doors, and cried,
" Come in, sir, and we will conceal you."
But I had no intention of stopping; I was
too near the terrible prison, and I ran
away faster than ever, but the voices of
these women sank into my soul; though
I had not had time to glance at one of
them, I fancied that every woman who had
offered to conceal me must be beautiful,
— for did she not feel for my distresses,
and wish to relieve them?
Marcelines, Suzannes, Comtesse Al-
mavivas, I saw you all, — mentally; and I
would have kissed you all, — but I had no
time. The houses began to get fewer and
fewer, as I ran on, and at last I came to a
small copse of trees and thick underwood,
which would afford me a refuge. In the
centre was a grass-plot a few yards square,
and my first act was to throw myself on
the grass and take some rest.
Profound silence reigned all round; I
enjoyed the delightful sensation of breath
ing the pure air of liberty, of which I had
been so long deprived. In the midst of all

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

37

my thoughts, the ruling idea was pride. I
thought that my escape would give me
j5ome notoriety, and perhaps be useful to"
me in thlTTuture," "IT I sKiuTJ^HopPtKe
mflilaiy piufessiuii; bunny tBougK"ts then
reverted to the question of the moment,
what should I do? I did not know where
I was; my only coat was a thin nankeen,
badly torn in my fight, I had no hat, and
my legs were bleeding from the thorns
amidst which I had fallen when I descend
ed the tower. What with my rags covered
with blood, and my wild, haggard appear
ance, I must have looked like a poor devil
who had been in the wars, and not got the
best of it. My good angel, however, di
rected me to a respectable-looking house
at a little distance, and I saw, walking in
front of it, a person whom I imagined
to be the proprietor. It was then about
nine o'clock in the morning, and as it was
July, the weather was very warm. I made
up my mind on the spot, and advanced
towards this unknown personage, who,
luckily for me, turned out to be one of the
best-natured men in the world — a M.

38 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
^Bontems, a merchant, of the Rue Mer-
ciere, Lyon. I have since been happy to
acknowledge and repay the service he ren
dered me.
He did not see me till I was within
eight or ten yards of him. He was a good-
looking man, with a florid complexion,
but at the sight of me he became deadly
pale, and trembled. He kept his eyes fixed
on the butt of the pistol, which was stick
ing out of my pocket, and stood motion
less without the power to say a word.
" Pray be easy, my good sir," I said,
" and listen to what I have to say. Never
mind the horrible condition in which I am.
I am the happiest man in the world, for I
have just acquired my liberty; the alarm
bell which is ringing up there, and which
you can hear distinctly, is sounding on
my account. I have got out of Pierre-en-
Cize, and my body must be as black as a
negro's from the blows I received in my
fight with the castle guard. This house
belongs to you, I suppose. Give me shel
ter till nightfall, for I am worn out with
fatigue and hunger. I would hand over

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 39
to you this minute the weapon which so
much terrifies you, if I did not fear to be
surprised without any means of defence.
If you are humane enough to take me in,
show me some way of getting into the
house without being perceived."
The worthy man was touched by my
address, and the trust I reposed in him,
and showed me a way through his garden
by which I could enter the house without
being seen by anyone. M. Bontems led
me into a room on the ground floor, where
his old mother was sitting. She was quite
as frightened as her son, but began to
weep when I recounted my adventures.
They brought me some refreshments, of
which I had sore need.
My host meanwhile took the very nat
ural precaution of sending to Lyon, and
the neighbourhood of the castle, to know
why the alarm bell was ringing. My
statements were confirmed, and everybody
was speaking highly of me, because I had
nearly fallen a victim to my own gener
osity in endeavouring to set the other pris
oners at liberty. M. Bontems, being per-

40

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

fectly satisfied as to the truth of my story,
offered to be of service to me in any way.
He wished to conceal me in his house, but
I would not accept this kindness. I asked
him only to furnish me with some clothes
and a hat, and procure me a horse, and a
guide, so that I might start that night by
the old Lyon road, which is little fre
quented, and by which I could get home
to my father's house, — a distance of but
thirty leagues. M. Bontems procured me
all I asked, and supplied me with the
money necessary for my journey. You
may imagine my affection and gratitude,
when I said farewell to this worthy man
and his good old mother.
I left this hospitable roof, and made
my way towards Clermont.
The future was before me. I did not
look back, for I should have seen that
cursed castle, the very recollection of
which made me shiver, for past dangers
make more impression on the mind than
present perils. Except for some vague
misgivings, which I could not prevent, I
made the journey peaceably enough, but I

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

41

reflected that as my father would not ex
pect to see me, there was a risk that my
sudden appearance would give him a shock,
which, considering his great age, might
be dangerous, and for which I should al
ways reproach myself. I thought it wise,
therefore, to stop at the house of a friend
of our family, who lived two leagues from
Pontgibaud. When I arrived at the Cha
teau d'A  , there was a large gathering
of friends and visitors. My adventures
were not yet known to anyone in Au
vergne. It was as though I fell from the
clouds, for certainly no one expected me,
for all knew that I was in Pierre-en-Cize,
though my poor old father sometimes
asked himself why I was there.
It was a really dramatic situation; the
servants — almost a second family in the
distant parts of the country — surrounded
me, and I arrived in the salon in the midst
of them. It was crowded with people who
all began to ask questions, and I did not
know what to reply to all these men and
women, young and old. Some laughed at
my dress, some of the women cried when

42

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

they heard my story, and all were inter
ested in it. It was quite a picture: I felt
like Telemachus relating his adventures in
the cave of Calypso, but with the differ
ence that there was nothing fabulous in my
story. All the neighbours, men as well
as women, masters as well as servants, had
tears in their eyes, for at that time French
people had not learned, — as they did later,
in the school of the Revolution, — how to
harden their hearts to distress.
All approved of my foresight in not
presenting myself to my father until he
had been prepared for my coming, and the
master of the house undertook that duty.
A welcome proposal was also made to me
the same evening. I learned rhjft F.nglanH
was at war with her AmerkaiL__x>b-jaie^~i
heard also that the Marquis de la Fayette,
who belonged to our province, had, already.
ma3eT himself talked about, and itjva^jsugs-
gested t)aat!TW3u^TeT^^^^jQ&
ffieHroTOTnT_Tm™aIiaT}^^ bjsnrd._>Es__
J .™_iii__M»»0»»<*-ttF-*"<r-*;;t°K * <**"ROcw™ * -*»W ILW^l'-yiVW fiWW*' lUW W. ¦"_!" "¦ ¦
l~"5TKfpp?Tat the idea enthusiastically, and
fnYaffuTais^ nBtSS*!1<0*fc»_WV*W*i__'_^_ViW**™'»''W ' '
with my father.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 43
M. d'A  presented himself, let out
the story by degrees, and made his old
friend acquainted with all my adventures
down to the minutest detail. There is
generally a touch of the ludicrous, even in
the gravest affairs. The aged author of
my being listened very quietly to the his
tory of my almost incredibly bold escape.
He was no doubt struck by the difference
in character between my brother, " the
good young man," and me, " the bad lot,"
and remembering his young days when he
was a musketeer, he said, with a smile,
"Ah, the rascal! Well, my friend, I'll
tell you what it is. If I had locked up my
elder son, instead of my younger, — he
would have stopped there for ever."
Peace was concluded, and all the condi
tions were granted, with one exception.
My father steadfastly refused to see me; —
not that he was angry with me,T6T~his
wrath had completely disappeared, but
from quite another motive. He was an
old soldier, and knew the rules of the serv
ice" rfe~remarked that I had fired upon
the King's soldiers, which might get me

44

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

into trouble* and he did not wish to be
exposed to the unpleasantness of seeing
the gendarmes visit the chateau to search
for me.
It was decided that T fibnnlH gfart fnr
North America; that my father should

and~7^iat20oo crowns should be counted
dTJWn^-6Tne^TTf_ejpOTFwEereT^^bar^d. "HTTHTinronce for La Rochelle, wjtETa
letter of recommendation to M. Seigneur,
commissalrTlyFaxXwSy. ' irTmprTuavTTSm expected that I
should obtain a passage without any diffi
culty, but I was obliged to go to Nantes.
Only two days after my arrival at La
Rochelle, orders were received by the mili
tary commander, Baron de M  , to ar
rest me. What a debt of gratitude do I
owe him! He was kind enough to cause
a hint to be conveyed to M. Seigneur to
get me out of the, way.
I left therefore for Nantes with a letter
of recommendation from M. Seigneur to
M. de Ville-Helis, the government out
fitter. I shall always remember the hearty

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

45

welcome he gave me. He kindly interested
himself in all the details of my situation;
gave me some excellent advice how to lay
out my money, and the means to augment
my resources by the purchase of goods
likely to be required in the country to
which I was going. Finally, he procured
— and at a very low rate — a passage on the
ship Arc-en-Ciel, fitted out by Messrs.
Minier and Struckman, and recommended
me to the care of the captain. And so I
sailed for the New World.

46 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

CHAPTER III.
Wrecked in Chesapeake Bay— Williamsburg— Mr. Jeffer
son—Aspect of the country between Williamsburg and
the Camp at Valley Forges — Description of the Ameri
can Army — Welcomed by Marquis de la Fayette — He
appoints me his aide-de-camp — My mission to the
Oneida Indians — American ideas of the French — The
Camp at Valley Forges — General Howe's dog — At
tempted sortie of the British Army from Philadelphia
— The passage of the Schuylkill and return — Our
ambulance surgeon — Evacuation of Philadelphia — De
feat at Rareton Rivers — Battle and Victory at Mon
mouth — New York blockaded — Arnold's treason — Ar
rest, trial, and execution of Major Andr_ — The Earl of
Carlisle and Marquis de la Fayette — Comte d'Estaing
before New York — Siege of Newport, Rhode Island,
by Gen. Sullivan — I am charged with the re -victualling
of the French fleet — The siege of Newport raised —
Our departure for France on board the frigate Alli
ance — A storm and its consequences — Mutiny on
board — Capture of a British cruiser — Arrival at Brest.
Our voyage, which was a very bad one,
lasted sixty-seven days. We "met WitTT°a
heavy storm off the Bermudas, and were
often chased by British cruisers. At last

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

47

we came in sight of Capes Charles and
Henry at the entrance to Chesapeake
Bay. As it was then almost night-fall the
captain tacked about, intending to enter
the Bay next morning. We then had a
good wind behind us, and we hoped, but
in vain, for a pilot to come off and take us
in. The fear of being captured, however,
made the captain determine to enter the
Bay, which is very large. The destination
of the vessel was Baltimore, but we were
obliged to run into James River. The
morning was very foggy, and we could not
see more than a hundred yards or so. A
few minutes later the fog lifted, the sun
came out, and we found ourselves within
a couple of cannon shot of the Isis, a Brit
ish war vessel of 64 guns, which was
moored at the entrance to the river. We
might have run ashore on the coast, and
the Isis could not have come near us as the
wind was against her, but our captain lost
his head and gave no orders, so we drifted
within range of the Isis, and then went
aground near the shore. The British being

48

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

now convinced we were enemies, began to
fire on us.
All the shore pirates of the district at
once embarked FcTpillago us, -and -a-scerre
oT~'ten:_BTe^3i-OTder ensued. These__S£__
wolves, nearlylHr"negroes or mulattos, and
numbering, as near as I could guessTabout
sixty, came on_ board under the pretext of
savmg^^ve^ssd^b^they cared moreTor
pillage than salvage, for they stave3~ln
casks of wine and "bTandy, and the greater
part of them were soon very drunk. I
noticed that their bdafswere secured to
the ship by thin cords, so I quickly en
gaged a boy and one of our sailors to help
me to bring up from the cabin my trunk
which contained my goods, — alas! all my
fortune, — and my other effects. We threw
these into a boat_belonging to one of the
Lestrigons, whilst the owner was engaged
in drinking and stealing, then we jumped
in ourselves, cut the rope, and in a very
few .minutes were on shore.
The BuBleirT^hlSirecTover our heads,
but we were™saTi7an3" Th¥(f,"T__OTeT_vw-~^as
I thought), preserved all my property.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

49

Seated on my trunk, with my feet on the
shore of America, I watched the_t.Q_tal de-
struction of our ship, which was accom-
plisKed" in a very few hours. We did not
know what to do, or where to go, for we
could not tell in which direction any
houses lay. We could not speak the lan
guage, and we coukinot see~trny""of"The
ir_Kabitants of the country. At last sev
eral of the boats belonging to the robbers
arrived, loaded with booty taken from the
ship. Some of our sailors were in the
boats. The leader of the pirates sent to
the neighbouring town of Hampton for
wagons, and when they came packed in
them all which had been brought to shore,
including my trunk and all that belonged
to the passengers. I heard, however, the
words, " Public Magazine," and that re
assured me a little, for I imagined that
when all the passengers were assembled,
each would be allowed to claim and take
away his own property.
In two or three days the crew got to
gether, except two killed, and one or two
drowned, and the doors of the Public
s

5o

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

Magazine were opened for us. My eyes
filled with joy at again beholding the trunk
which contained all my riches. The key
was in my pocket; I approached my trunk,
but, alas! found that the padlock had been
broken off, the lock forced, and, instead
ofthe fine" Dutch linen upon which I ex
pected to make such a profit, I found only
sail covers, stones, and a few rags of sails.
You may imagine my distress. I was
thousands of miles from home, with no
property~except the TlStt_e's~on~inyr tack,
and-sic__mQi_ey__e__eept "tfiTmne or ten louis
I chanced .o"T_aTCTn™lny°p^c__etT
"^em|:™w^ariLHato^ttgTOtl"1_ynhe long
voyage and its exciting incidents, I rested
for a day or two, but not wishing to ex
pend all my slender stock of money in an
inn at Hampton, I set off to join the army.
and, in order to get informa.ti.oa,, . I .first
di££Ctedjmyj3te^^ the capital of Virginia, about twenty or
..,___^_iivi*w^i>^,*^f*.«'^«imHM>i»_i»«J^_..___  ,¦¦„,,,-
twenty-five miles distant from my starting
pioiiolEr I was sure that, when once I had joined
the army, I should run no risk by dying

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

51

of hunger at all events; but it was a long
way to the camp, and I did not know with
in a trifling matter of a hundred miles or
soi_where the head-quarters then were.
Besides there were forests to pass through,
and I was not sure whether I might not
meet with bears, panthers, or rattlesnakes
— at least that was what I had to expect
if I believed all the books of travel I had
read whilst I was in prison. I foresaw
that I should often have to sleep under
the stars, which, in the month of Novem
ber, is neither safe nor pleasant in any
country remote from the equator, and I
was also doubtful as to whether I should
find a dinner every day. With thoughts
like these, but with no anxiety as to my
baggage. I started off on the road — which
was only a worn path — to Williamsburg.
There I found some Frenchmen, for
they are to be met with everywhere. They
provided me with a map_of__the country
and I planned out my route. I learned
that the army, was camped at Valley
Forges, three leagues from THladTeTphTa,
and thatlhire.I.,ghai!^^

52 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
de la Fayette. It was a long journey to
make on foot. I related the story of my
shipwreck on the coast of Chesapeake
Bay, and, as advice costs nothing, every
body was ready to give it, and all recom
mended me to complain to Mr. Jefferson,
then governor of Virginia, of the robbery
of my effects.
After my experience in the Old World,
and more recent vicissitudes in the New,
I was not inclined to be too hopeful, but,
to ease my mind, I called on the governor.
accompanied by an interpreter. I found
that Mr. Jefferson had been informed of
our misfortunes. He expressed his regret
that in sucn""troublous times as we were
then in, it was impossihleJi_M:.J-im.~te-^paj/
me the compensation to which I was en
titled. Tn my presence he ordered his
secretary to give me a «c___ii_ica£e. This
curious document was in English, which I
could neither speak nor read, but later on
I was able to peruse the document. The
governor terminated his passport by rec
ommending me to the charity of all with
whom I might meet!

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

S3

What freaks fortune had played with
me. At nineteen years of age I had es
caped from Pierre-en-Cize, — two months
later had been shipwrecked a thousand
leagues from home, — had been robbed of
all I possessed, on a friendly shore, by the
very persons I had come to help to regain
their liberty, — and now I was trudging on
foot to the head-quarters of the army, the
bearer of a licence to beg on the road.
Fortunately the little money I had suf
ficed, and I was not obliged to take advan
tage of the charitable verb " to assist,"
slipped in for my special benefit at the
foot of the passport.
From Williamsburg to the camp at
Valley Forges, near Philadelphia, is not
less than 200 miles, and it must not be
supposed that it required any superhuman
effort to accomplish that. There was
plenty of mud to be found — but that I ex
pected; the weather was not always fine,
for it rained often — in the months of No
vember and December it rains even in
France. In the midst of all these discom
forts, which I foresaw would have an end,

54 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
the knowledge that I was free sustained
me, and comforted me. Moreover, I was
young, and had health and strength. It is
not astonishing therefore that I found at
every step something fresh to drive away
sad thoughts.
Birds unknown in France enlivened my
view, and made me admire the richness and
variety of their plumage, and in the almost
continuous forest through which I had to
pass, I was never tired of watching the
thousands of little squirrels which leaped
from bough to bough and tree to tree
round me.
My baggage consisted of a single shirt.
I had in my pocket a flask which I filled
with gin (whenever I could get it) and in
another pocket a hunk of bad maize bread.
I had also five louis in my purse and a pass
port, signed " Jefferson."
Sand and forest, forest and sand,
formed the whole way from Williamsburg
to the camp at Valley Forges. I do not
remember how many days I took to ac
complish this difficult journey. Being
badly fed, as a natural consequence I

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

55

walked badly, and passed at least six nights
under the trees through not meeting with
any habitation. Not knowing the lan
guage, I often strayed from the right road,
which was so much time and labour lost.
At last, early in November, I arrived at
Valley Forges^
The American army was then en
camped three or four leagues from Phila
delphia, which city was then occupied by
the British, who were rapidly fulfilling the
prophecy of Dr. Franklin.
That celebrated man — an ambassador
who amused himself with science, which
he adroitly made to assist him in his diplo
matic work — said, when some friends came
to Passy to condole with him on the fall
of Philadelphia, " You are mistaken; it is
not the British army that has taken Phila
delphia, but Philadelphia that has taken
the British army." The cunning old
diplomatist was right. The capital of
Pennsylvania had already done for the
British what Capua did in a few months
for the soldiers of Hannibal. The_Ameri-
cans, — the " insurgents'' as they were

56 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
called, — camped at Val.kj_-_-.EQr.g£su the
British officers^who were in the city, gave
themselves up to nleasure^ there were con
tinual baU-L and oth_x.-ajx__i§em;ents; the
troops were idle and enervated by inaction,
and the generals undertook nothing all
the winter.
Soon I came in sight of the camp. My
imagination had pictured an army with
uniforms, the glitter of arms, standards,
etc., in short, military pomp of all sorts.
Instead of the imposing spectacle I ex
pected, I saw, grouped togetner or stand
ing alone, a few militia men, poorly clad,
and for the most part without shoes; —
many~6TT_iem "badly armed, but all well
" ™ ' "",aY,*«av__|nMuv__*u-f m«-_-iwi«_-«»'«Mj»,,«»"WB*',,T'*< - ->!j • -' --,-* .. .-.. * . _.
supphea with provisions, and I noticed
that tea and sugar formed part of their
rations. I did not then know that this
was not unusual, and I laughed, for it made
me think of the recruiting sergeants on
the Quai de la Ferraille at Paris, who say
to the yokels, " You will want for nothing
when you are in the regiment, but if bread
should run short you must not mind eat
ing cakes." Here the soldiers had tea and

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

57

sugar. In passing through the camp I
also noticed soldiers wearing cotton night
caps under their hats, and some having
for cloaksjOT^eaj^o^^_co^r^^(^nen
DTaliT_ells7^xa^
the patients in . our_-Fj^ii^.ho^tals. I
learned afterwards that these were the
officers and ggnerals,
Such, in strict truth, was, — at the time
I came amongst them, — the appearance of
this armed mob, the leader of whom was
the man who has rendered the name of
Washington famous; such were the colo
nists, — unskilled warriors who learned Tn
a" "Tew yearF~how™To^^oT_5^iFf"™fKe""fi"rre_t
troops™T_aT"^^gTlTfd""'couTS~ien3 against
rt-e-nTHSi^ also, — at the beginning of TEe
War of Indeperidence^-was the state of
want in the insurgent army, and such was
the sc&Mily^STMmuey.^ aiwLihe. poverty of
that government, now so,, rich, powerful,
andl~pr©spere«s,.-that its notes, called Con
tinental Paper Money, were nearly value
less, like our own assignats in 1795.
Impressed by these sights, which had
quite destroyed m_z_ilkts-e--8f» I made my

58 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
way through this singular army to the
quarters of Marquis de la Fayettfi.
This young general was then, I be
lieve, not more than ^o__QJt-»_~years-of-age_
I presented myself to him, and told him
frankly my whole story. He listened to
my history with attention and kindness,
and at my request enrolled me as a volunr.
teer. He also wrote to France and before
long received a reply confirming the truth
of my statements; he then appointed me
one of his aides-de-camp, with the^an-?_pf
Major... and from that moment never ceased
to~Ioa3 me with benefits and marks of
confidence. The Marquis de la Fayette
presented me as his aide-de-camp to the
commander-jn-chief. Washington was in
tended by nature for a great position, —
his appearance_alone_^y_£..XQJifid£jic_s„, to
the timid, and imposed respect on the
bold. He possessed also those external
advantages which ji man boni jto_command
shouTdTTave ; tall stature, a noble f ace^geij-
tleness inHfils glance, amenity Jn ..his lan-
guTg^'Simpticity in his gestures and ex
pressions? A calm, firm 'bearing har-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

59

monized perfectly with these_ attributes.
ThiTgeneral, whoTias since become so cele
brated for his talents and successes, was
just beginning to play that important part
in history that he has since so gloriously
sustained, in every capacity, military, civil,
and political. But I intend here only to
speak of the general.
He was surrounded by his officers, who
for the mpjl_pjrt_wgreJ, like me, on their
first-^ajaapaiga. Many of them had been
far from imagining, a short time before,
that they were intended for a military ca
reer. I saw, standing near the Com-
mander-in-Chief/tjateJi the victor atjS&ra-
toga, a small man, about fifty years of
age: two years before that he was merely
a rich tarmer, yet^qmeT^nTlimple as he
looked he had n^F^ffiSi^ir^TOrafe in
histo^.__This_agriculturist turned soldier,
who was wearing on his heaHHTlvoolTeif
cap surmounted by a farmer's hat, had just
received the sword of General Burgoyne,
who, dressed in full uniform, and with his
breast covered with all the orders England
could give, came to him to surrender.

60 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
Near Gates was/Araold,^-Ls brave as he
was treacherous; he waslamed for life by
a bullet he had received at Saratoga whilst
sharing the dangers and glories of Gen
eral Gates. A fny months hefo__a- he was
a distinguished officer in the army, Gen
eral Arnold was nothing more than__a
horse-dealer, rfrfneraf LeeJhowever. was.
aloldTeTbefore _ the War of _ Independeng£.
GeneriaFiStd^_--&Vas ajawy^ and when
peace was declared he returned, not .. to
hisolough but to his office. Colonejjfcjaigf
Mon^he friend of Washington, when the
war was over, also became a lawyer, and
pleaded at Philadelphia. General Stark
was the propriels£^3L,a,.,laxg.e„„an,d well-
¦A i > __ui ii i W""**^ *-* * ™r™ ^"^¦jZ~~_ t_^
managed estate. Brave General CjKnox*
who commanded the artillery, had, before
the war, kept a book-store. Under him
served dBuplessis-Mauduit_\ a brave young
officer, only twenty-six years old, and of
whom I shall often have occasion to speak
in these pages /—he afterwards perished at
Saint-Domingo, vilely murdered by his
own soldiers.
I also saw arrive at the mill which

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 6 1
served our cojm__a_i_ier as his head-quar
ters, ColonglArmand^ then commanding
a troop of light horse. The life of this
young Frenchman, who was then twenty
mo ui, had~lJe^fr_n_e™mine, adventurous from
the beginning. He was the nephew of the
Marquis de la Beliniese, and had been an
officer in the Gardes Franchises. Having
fallen madly in love with Mile. Beaumesnil,
of the Opera, and been refused by her, he
retired to the Monastery of La Trappe,
which he left to seek danger by the side
of General Washington. He had earned
some glory and distinction under the name
of Colonel Armand, and was to become
more celebrated under the name of the
Marquis de la Rouarie.
Lastly I saw there, for the first time,
Monsieur de P  ,* who commanded the
Engineers, and who was afterwards. Min
ister of War to jLouis_XVJ, at the begin
ning of the Revolution.
Amongst all these officers of different
r-_.tiongii>ipg apH hahits I noticed more
* See Note B.

62 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
particularly the striking figure of the man
before whom all bowed, as much from ad
miration and respect as from duty. Gen
eral Washington appeared to be about
forty. He had served in the British army,
and as Major Washington commanded in
175 — Fort Necessity, when M. de Jumon
ville, a French officer bearing a flag of
truce, was shot by a private soldier, who
did not see the white flag, and who fired
without orders. According to all reports
it is certain that the commander of the
fort never gave any order to fire, and the
most irrefutable proof of this is the gentle-
ness, magnanimity, and goodness of Gen-
eral Washington,— a character which he
never once belied amidst all the_chances
oflvar7;iffid3^fortune. M. Thomas * has deemed it
proper and patriotic to paint this unfor
tunate occurrence in the worst light, and
severely blame the British officer. Had
the name of Major Washington remained
obscure, it would have been stained with
* See Note C.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 63
an undeserved blot which no one would
have thought it worth while to remove,
but, as it is, any attempt to answer the
charge would be an insult to one of the
most beautiful and noble characters in his-
Jorjr^ "f aT_™to" the gr ound
before the name, the virtues, and the glory
of General Washington.. The assassin of
De^Jmnonville could never have become a
great man.
When the war broke out, General
Washington was the proprietor of a splen-
di__JstatginJS_giniav.and he brought with
him when he joined the army, a number
of fine horses. He dressed in |hf| most
simple mame_r___wilh__u_t any of .the, .marks
distiru^i¥e--c_La.xam_^^ and
he _gave away ^ _laj^g^ams_J^Q^ie"^QMkxs,
by.w,whom he was -.adored. But all that, he
_gav_Lwas_ _£2ELJ_i_L£w.n purse., for he had
refused to receive any emoluments from
the Government.
I ought to mention to the praise of
the Marquis d£JaJEj^et£e> that he followed
the example of the commander-in-chief,
and incurred greate^cpense^ purchasing

64 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
with his own money all that was neces
sary to ^^^^^)^.^3^ISm^as^Jsa&a.
ThTwar cost him imm£n_£^_i_ns~and cer
tainly no one will suspect him of any other
motive than the noble one of glory, for
the chances of reimbursement were not
very probable. His motives were perfect
ly pure, and Jhs~^XUXmdSS^^^^^-^
rnaHe""can onl^^be^accQjaiJte.i for by the
love"^crTli6erty..„.and . , the chivalric spirit
wTETch will always exist in France; — en-
thasiasmjoye of Ja.ftg^^^nd_ajkde jlory
Wgre his sole rewiirds,.. The pleasure of
commanding, fighting, and distinguishing
himself were of some weight in the scale,
it is reasonable to conclude, bjiLbj-fiour-
and merit were the principal~___©t-iv-@_v»-.The
, fctf_^^__r«i^*-^h-atJg»_._r.rt.-a«_.>^^_^-^M*-^'i.i_4T. *.^~"'*~~ A
war in America only offered a chance of
danger, privations, fatigues, and difficul
ties; the Marquis de la Fayette_wa§.„lthe
only one of all the young lords of th.e_Court
oFFrance who hadjthe, ..c_gurage»_&ad~4e-
termination to_ leave the pleasures of the
palace, and travel eighteen hundred leagues
to obtain glory without profit.
Moreover, there was not an oppor-

\ OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 65
tunity every day of acquiring even this
much, under General Washington. It did
not_£atfr into hi. phns tn readily engage
with the enemy on every opportunity — Hp
watched his time and chance before he
struck^ a blow; the principle of "armed,
^tempojizati^L?^ was his daily study, and,
as events have proved, he well deserved
the title which has been claimed for him
of the ^_me^fc«i_-^_JHiS---
The British, occupied in the pleasures
which they found in Philadelphia, allowed
us to pass the winter in tranquillity; they
never spoke of the camp aT^Talley Forges
except to joke about it, and we for our
part might almost have forgotten that we
were in the presence of an enemy if we
had not received a chance visitor. We
were at table at head-quarters, — that is
to say in the mill, which was comfortable
enough, — one day, when a fine sporting
dog, which was evidently lost, came to ask
for some jinn£-U~Qn its collar were the
wordH,<_^gyrff.Z Hmiie.Jlt was the British
commander's dog. It was sent back under.
a flag of truce, and General Howe replied
e — —

66 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
by a warm letter_of thanks^ to this act of
courtesy on the part of his enemy, our
general. When I arrived at the camp I was in
a pitiable condition, but the Marquis de la
Fayette had the extreme kindness to fur
nish me with the means of procuring horses
and a suitable equipment.
A plan was proposed to effect a di
version by attacking Canada, where, we
were informed, we should find few troops
to oppose us, and towards the middle of
January, the Marquis de la Fayette went
to take command of the troops in the dis
trict round Albany.
We made the journey on sledges on the
North River, and travelled with great
speed, but the weather was " wickedly
cold." One of our companions was the
brave Duplessis-Mauduit, who was to com
mand our artillery. But before undertak
ing any measures we thought it prudent
to make a treatywithj:h€^avage races)who
live on the bordersor^aira^sr'and New
England. After resting some days in the town of

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 67
Albany, we went up Mohawk River to
the house of Mr. Johnston, whose residence
was close to the huts of the various tribes
known under the names of Tuscaroros,
Oneidas, etc. We were prepared with the
usual presents required to conciliate them,
and in this case it might be said that little
presents cement great friendships. Our
gifts, which they thought magnificent, con
sisted of woollen blankets, little mirrors,
and, above all, plenty of paint, which the
salvages esteem highly and use to paint
their~_aces. There was also some gun
powder, lead, and bullets, and some silver
crowns of six francs bearing the effigy of
the King of France, who is known to these
savages, by tradition, as the " Great Fa
ther." About two thousand Indians, men and
women, came to the appointed rendezvous,
and thanks to our presents and thej^jjre-
water" which we distributed, the treaty
was easily concluded. I was very anxious
to observe the manners and customs of
these people, who were a great novelty
to me, but at the end of a few days I had

68 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
seen quite enough, for the European beg
gar is far less disgusting than the Ameri
can savage. Their numbers are diminish
ing rapidly from various causes.
We found amongst them an old soldier
who had belonged to the Marquis de Mont
calm's army. This man had become a
savage; he had almost entirely forgotten
French, and lived like the Indians, ex
cept that he had not let them cut his ears,
which is the sign of a warrior. We left
these tribes equally satisfied on both sides.
The projected attack on Canada was post
poned, for some reason of which I am ig
norant, and we returned to the Camp, at
Valley Forges.
I remarked, however, that even in
treating with these children of nature,
there was ajreciprocal distrust and an im-
pression that caution was"~"thlT mother" of
safety, _<!)_' we "Drought "with us fifty__of^th.e
^O^SCSai-ioiS. as a guarantee that the
treaty should be duly executed, and one
of our men r emajj^d jvjth the Indians as
aT-OStage — it was not I.
A little later some of these Indians

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 69
joined our army, and I will here note two
singular incidents concerning them. One
day we were at dinner at head-quarters;
an Indian entered the room, walked round
the table, and then stretching forth his
long tattooed arm seized a large joint of
hot roast beef in his thumb and fingers,
took it to the door, and began to eat it.
We were all much surprised, but General
Washington gave orders that he was not
to be interfered with, saying laughingly,
that it was apparently the dinner hour of
this Mutius Scaevola of the New World.
On another occasion a chief came into
the room where our generals were hold
ing a council of war. Washington, who
was tall-and very strongprose, coolly took
the Indian bj^Jie^houlders, and put him
outside the__JQ__E..- The son" of theToresF
did not protest; he concluded probably
that his ejectment was a way of expressing
by signs that his company was not wanted.
At another time a meeting was ap
pointed with the chiefs and warriors be
longing to several tribes, which resided at
great distances from each other in different

70

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

directions. They had to pass through vast
and thick forests where there were no
paths. Though without^jgither watch or
CompaSS th^y-^km^d thf^r rr_a*Tpfty tnr^n^
known to themselves alone. The meet
ing was to be on a plairi7"ahd it is a fact
that on the day appointed we heard their
songs and cries, and saw the various bodies
of Indians arrive from all sides almost
simultaneously. I was astonished, on my return, to find
what peculiar ideas our hosts, the Ameri
cans of New England, had of the French.
One day I dismounted from my horse at
the house of a farmer upon whom I
had been billeted. I had hardly entered
the good man's house when he said to
me, " I am very glad to have a Frenchman
in the house."
I politely enquired the reason of this
preference. "Well," he said, "you see the barber
lives a long way off, so you will be able to
shave me."
" But I cannot even shave myself," I

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 71
replied. " My servant shaves me, and he
will shave you also if you like."
" That's very odd," said he. " I was
told that all Frenchmen were barbers and
fiddlers." I think I never laughed so hearily. A
few minutes later my rations arrived, and
my host seeing a large piece of beef
amongst them, said, '
" You are lucky to be able to come
over to America and get some beef to
eat." I assured him that we had beef in
France, and excellent beef too.
" That is impossible," he replied, " or
you wouldn't be so thin."
Such was, — when Libejty___i_as^d^wn=_
ing-___vpr thpjbnrl, — theiPTto'ranre. shown
by J_tie_inhabita---s of jb£_J_J£-t€d-St_ate|^
Republic in regard to the French. This
lackof k!iowTegi3r,W__^
fictdt.y. of ipt__.r-t-Q.urse _w._±_u-KM4_-tpg..  Their
co^mmfications were almost entirely cut
off, and even Boston ancT PhiladeTpffisTwIire*"
in the hands of the English; nor were the
people on the sea-coast in a more advanced

72 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
state of civilization than those of the in
terior. More than a century of progress
has been made in less than twenty years.
I shall hardly be believed now when I state
that, about this time, one of our men hav
ing left a pair of jack-boots behind him,
the Americans were so astonished at them,
that they placed them, as a curiosity, in
the New York Museum, where the man
who had forgotten them afterwards found
them ticketed French Boots.
We returned to the camp at Valley
Forges about the 15th March. The enemy
was still quiet in Philadelphia, dancing
anddrinking in true English style, and
deeming themselves perfectly safe. We
were not sufficiently strong to attempt to
dislodge them, and were obliged to wait till
15 th April, when our recruits and rein
forcements were to arrive. We remained
inactive till then. The weather was still
very cold. A peculiarity of the climate of
this country is that often there is no spring,
and owing to the absence of one of the
most pleasant seasons of the year you pass
straight from a long and hard winter to

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

73

weather of insupportable heat, which has
followed, without any intermediate grada
tions, a severe frost. The autumns, on the
other hand, are long and very fine.
By 15th April our reinforcements had
arrived, and we were preparing to open
the campaign when we learned, with as
much surprise as pleasure, that the Brit
ish army had received orders to evacu
ate Philadelphia and fall back on New
York. Their army was composed of vet
eran soldiers, was superior to us in num
bers, and, moreover, protected by en
trenchments. We imagined that the Cabi
net at London had probably heard of the
expected arrival of the squadron under
Comte d'Estaing. But, — whatever was
the cause, — the British prepared to leave
Philadelphia and retire on New York,
which was also in their hands at that time.
They had to make a march of thirty
leagues, and cross two rivers, — the Dela
ware at Philadelphia, and North River, —
before arriving at New York. We, on our
side, prepared to harass their rear-guard.
General Washington — partly out of

74 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
friendship, and partly from policy — was
anxious to afford the Maj^uisJbaJaJ^ay-
ette every opportunity to distinguish him-
self7_and ordered him to take_.a_strong
body of troops and cross Jhg.Jkhny11ri11j
at a spot on the leitjotthe_Bvitish_jQO^:
Hon^ and cut off ^eir^rear^guard, if the
opportunity sTiould occur. La Fayette had
already brilliantly distinguished himself at
the Battle of Brandywine, where he had
received a ball in the leg.
We left about midnight, silently
crossed the Schuylkill, and took up a po
sition in a wood very close to Philadel
phia, in order to be able to reconnoitre the
enemy at daybreak, and attack if we had
the chance. The main body of our army
was ready to support us in less than two
hours if we signalled for help.
The British, who had spjg§__am__agst
our men, were soon informed of our plans.
^Ke'gTeatier part of their army was still in
Philadelphia; they made a sortie, carried
the weak post we had established on the
banks of the Schuylkill to secure our re
treat, and then marched in our rear, hop-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

75

ing to catch us between two fires. Our
little army, ignorant of the danger of the
position, was about to be caught in a
trap. It happened otherwise, however. We
had bivouacked and were resting, and
waiting for daybreak.
Fortunately, a surgeon had heard, — I
do not know how, — of this night march of
the garrison of Philadelphia to cut off our
retreat and take us in the rear. In the
interests of his own safety, most prob
ably, he had searched along the banks of
the river and had found a ford where there
was only three or four feet of water. I
was lying on the ground, near our general,
when the Esculapius came up and whis
pered the information he had found out,
and the discovery of the ford, of which
we did not suspect the existence. La
Fayette, awakened by the sound of our
voices, asked what was the matter, and
made the surgeon repeat what he had al
ready told me. Our general was admira-
bly cool, and showed that presence of mind
so valuable in a commander in a time oF

76 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
danger. He quietly told the surgeon to
return to his post, and as soon as he had
left, ordered me to mount my horse, and
see for myself if the information was true.
I did not go very far before I ascertained
that Esculapius was quite correct. I saw
the head of a moving column, so I re
turned at full speed. The next moment
the order to march was given, and our re
treat was effected quietly and promptly,
and our little army crossed the Schuylkill
in good order, by the ford which the sur
geon had discovered. We were drawn up
in order on the right bank, and made the
signals previously agreed upon. Our sol
diers believed that the march and counter
march formed part of a strategic move
ment. The enemy did not dare to show
himself, being afraid of being caught in a
snare. Our expedition, which had served to
puzzle the enemy, and our cleverly exe
cuted retreat, brought a good deal of
praise to our general, which, to say truth,
he deserved, but thanks were also due to
the cautious and watchful surgeon who

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

77

found the ford so opportunely; — nothing
was said about him, however.
A few days later the British army had
completely evacuated Philadelphia.^- We
followed it almo"st witi_iff siglit^and at
Rareton Rivers, General Lee attacked the
enemy's rear-guard, in the morning. This
was composed of 7,000 men, the flower of
the army, and comprised the regiment of
Foot Guards. I was present at this af
fair, where the Marquis de la Fayette was
under Lee's orders. We were thoroughly
beaten, our soldiers fled in the greatest
disorder, and we could not succeed in ral-
l}_i-_gJ;h4OT_..£-^^ toJkefip-tQgetiier. ^^gjjs^lj^happens, the
general who commanded was accused of
treagQii. This was my first battle.
The stragglers re-formed behind our
main army, which they met with in their
TTrghtTwhilst the British, proud of their
victory, though it was but a partial one,
hjid_Jhe^jinpri^the reinforcements which they had drawn
from^t^a^nce guard! General Wash
ington waited foTTEem in a strong posi-

78

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

tion, with all his army drawn up in battle
order. The English had a deep ravine to cross
before they could reach ns- their hrave in
fantry did *^__. hpcita,tp an instant hut
chargejdjijr^ y oi_aV--a-4~was
crushed byj^^artmery.- The fine regi
ment of the guards lost half its men, and
its colonel was fatally wounded.
Xhis-engagement, called thC_Battle of.
Ji^rMTToiitrA-^rom the name of a neighbour
ing village/ began at ten o'clock in the
morning: the heat was so excessive' that.
we found soldiers dead without ^hjvingj^e-
ceTved a""lvou_r9'r™™r""arid not see much of
myn__-sT~batt,re"'l"as we had not remained
masters of the field; but that of Monmouth
gave me some painful thoughts, even in
the midst of the pride and pleasure of
victory, and I cannot reproach myself with
the callous heartlessness of the man who,
on the field of Eylau, amidst the bodies of
24,000 of the victors and vanquished, said,
"What a fine slaughter of men!" We
slept on the_JJd£L---iJ-^^
%§jL_^SLX£i^dj^^ The

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 79
day had been so hot, in both senses, that
everyone had need of rest.
The British army retreated, about mid
night, in silence, and we entered the vil
lage at six o'clock in the morning. The
enemy had left behind some of his bag
gage and all his wnnnrlftd; they were to
be found in every house, and in the church.
Every possible care was taken of them.
I^gann^>L-eji^ejx.-aQw.-.think without j_itjt-.of
the young officers of the guards who had
lost their limbs. 1 heir colonel, one of the
handsomest men I have ever seen, and
sixty years of age, died of his wounds after
suffering for twenty-four hours.
There was no further fighting until
the English reached New York. We ar
rived before the city at almost the same
moment as they entered it, and took up
our position.
The siege was conducted under cir
cumstances of great difficulty; a British
squadron was anchored in the port; the
town was protected on one side by North
River, and on the other by East River, —
both much larger than the Seine, or even

80 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
the Loire. We should have needed a hun
dred thousand men if we had wanted to
attack the place, and we had but fifteen
thousand. The American army remained
therefore " in observation," and contented
itself with preventing the enemy from for
aging in the country round about.
Whilst we were mutually engaged in
watching each other, a plot was brewing
which, if it had succeeded, — and it was
within a hair's breadth of doing so, —
would have been disastrous for our army,
and perhaps even affected the fate of the
newly-born Republic. I allude to General
Arnold's conspiracy to betray the Fort of
West Point into the hands of the Eng
lish. West Point, some twenty leagues from
New York on the right bank of North
River, was the chief arsenal of the American
government. All the heavy artillery was
kept there, and also that captured at the
surrender of Saratoga. Congress had taken
the precaution to make every approach to
the place bristle with fortifications. The
heights were surmounted by formidable

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 8 1
batteries which could bring a heavy cross
fire to bear upon several parts of the river,
and the passage of the river was also
barred — like the port of Constantinople in
the time of the Greek Emperors — by a
chain, every link of which weighed more
than four hundredweight. The fortifica
tions were erected under the direction of
MM. Duportail and de Gouvion, officers
sent from France.
Amongst the causes which brought
about the liberty and independence of the
United States, perhaps these impregnable
fortifications should count for something.
The British could not hope to capture
West Point by main force, for their ships
could not approach without running the
gauntlet — for fully two miles — of a heavy
cross fire from the banks and the neigh
bouring heights. They resolved to try
King Philip's " mule laden with gold." *
* Philip of Macedon said " there was no fortress so
impregnable that a mule laden with gold could not enter."
The figure is a favourite one with French writers, and has
been used by Camille Desmoulins, ChSteaubriand, and
Heine, ed. 7

82 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
The possession of the fort of West
Point would allow the enemy to cut off
all our communications with the Northern
States, from whence we derived all our
provisions, particularly cattle. The loss of
this place would have been the heaviest
possible misfortune for us, and the conse
quences would have been incalculable.
General Arnold commanded the fort.
Major Andrea young officer of French
extraction, and an adjutant in the British
affliy, often fer_~"ori^r5TPn — to — pi-sit — the
American camp to make arrangements
concerning the exchange of prisoners. By
chance or design, he had made the ac-
quaintance jgf_ArjaQldJU_ This general, a
man of rjre. coujagg, had often rendered
us signal services, but he had not been
rewarded as well as he wished. Major
Andre guessed that he was discontented,
and could be easily bought over, and a
compact was made between them. Arnold
was promised a large sum of money, and
a position of equal rank in the British army
with full pay. On his side he undertook
to surrender the fort. The enemy was to

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 83
make a night attack by the river, and it
was agreed that Arnold was to allow him
self to be surprised.
There was still, no doubt, some minor
points to be arranged, and it was necessary
that the major should meet the general
in order to discuss these. Andre came
disguised, and was met by three of our
militia men who were patrolling outside
our lines, who stopped him and asked the
usual questions. The major, who was
dressed as a countryman, and badly
mounted, replied quietly, and with an af
fectation of simplicity, that he was a
farmer. The three militia men, who by
the way were but badly armedLfor the
musket of one of them had no hammer,
were just deciding tokthimpassrwirenl
he imprudently complained of the delay
they had caused him, and was stupid
enough to offer them money, and this
aroused their suspicions. Thereupon he
proposed that they should conduct him to
West Point, where he said he wished to
go, but one of the militia men remarked
that they would have five miles to walk,

84 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
whereas by going only a mile or so they
would meet General Washington, who
ought then to be crossing North River
on his return from a council of war held
at Hartford. This was agreed, and the
three militia men conducted their prisoner,
without knowing who he was, to Kings-
ferry, where they awaited at the inn the
arrival of the commander-in-chief.
Arnold, however, being suspicious, had
had the major followed by a farmer of the
district. Being advised by his messenger
that Andre was captured, Arnold at once
jumped into a boat manned by English
sailors in disguise, and which was waiting
for him below the fortifications, and was
rowed to the Vulture, a British corvette
lying about two cannon shot off, and so
the unfortunate major was the only vic
tim of Arnold's treason.
All this passed at very little distance
from our camp. I had gone, out of curi
osity, to see the generals arrive, and so
was a witness, by accident, of this great
drama. The inn-keeper told me that
three militia men had arrested a very sus-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 85
picious looking person, who had offered
them money to let him go free, and
showed me the place where this unknown
personage was temporarily confined. I
went to see him, and spoke to him, but as
I did not know Major Andre by sight, I
imagined the man to be nothing more
than one of the enemy's spies. I was not
the only person astonished a quarter of an
hour later.
General Washington arrived with his
staff, and having been told of the arrest,
ordered Colonel Hamilton to go and ex
amine the accused and bring back a re
port. I followed the colonel. The low
room was very dark, and as night was fall
ing, a light was brought. The colonel
sprang back in astonishment and dismay,
on recognizing at the first glance the un
fortunate Major Andre. The prisoner
wore no military insignia — a regimental
jacket under his countryman's coat, might
perhaps have saved him. Deeply pained
by the recognition, Colonel Hamilton or
dered the militia men not to lose sight of
their prisoner for a moment, and hurried

86 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
back to the general. " It is Major Andre,"
he cried in a tone of despair. Washing
ton's first words were, " Take fifty horse,
and bring me Arnold dead or alive." Then
he at once gave orders for all the army to
be under arms. His next care was to have
the prisoner searched; there was found
on him a paper containing all the particu
lars of the plan agreed upon — the surprise
of the fort at West Point, and a simultane
ous attack on our army. God knows what
would have become of the American cause
if the plot had succeeded.
The major was brought into the camp,
under a strong escort, to be tried and sen
tenced; the least indulgence shown to

him, would, in the circumstances in which
i we were placed, have been followed by a
Imu^mTTn^h^'lTmy.

Few culprits in modprn history haw
inspired and deserved more general intffl-
s*^Kmt!£__H![__!^E7^2H?§i^~* a distin
guished, brave, and active officer, hand
some, amiable, and only twenty-six years
af age. We received quite a -process-Qn
of envoys who came to treat for his re-

E

¦s.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 87
lease. The English generals came in per
son, and offered almost anything to save
his life. There was only one .rP^dH^rT
we could accept, and that was that Arnold
should be delivered into our hands. The
T_nglish weresorrowfully obliged to refuse
this; they could not accede to the terms.
Major^ Atijjrp was tried and condemned
to be (flanged • ft ediH not pvpn nhtain thp
privilege of being shot. I can certify that
when they came out after the court-mar
tial the Jaws jaf^alLom^^
marks of the most profound grief; the
eyes. The unfortunate young man met
his death courageously; he said loudly that
he~ttrd not Think iT^sh^nourable toTiave
~acted"a_I_reI3id agafnsT ""Rebels?'
The inevitable doom of Major Andre
only served to accentuate the scorn and
hatred that Arnold obtained and deserved.
The traitor received his promised reward
from the British government, but care
was taken not to employ him as a gen
eral, the soldiers, both men and officers,
being exasperated against him.

88 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
His wife and children, whom he had
left behind, were in our power. He was
base enough to suppose that they would
be held responsible for his crime, and in
solently wrote to General Washington
threatening severe reprisals, and the de
struction of Washington's beautiful estate
in Virginia if any harm happened to his
family. The sole reply Washington mad,e
Bractnnijpr M^s Arnold and her children
to be conducted into the British lines,
witlr.-evtaji ^jssioii^^^sinsjmr-tr^ms,
I bTTl^v^'l!!oTrael'nfIa_mIt"oTr who was
charged with this duty, with instructions
to spare them every possible inconven
ience. No event of importance happened dur
ing the next few weeks, but we learned
that the British government was sending
Commissioners to New York to arrange
the terms of peace. One of these repre
sentatives was Lord Carlisle,]., a very
young man. He was the cause of a scan
dal, the odium and ridicule of which af-
* See Note D.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 89
fected him alone. He had inserted in the
English papers, which were read at New
York, a paragraph to the effect that the
Marquis de la Fayette had been very well
received at the Court of St. James, but a
very short time before his departure for
America, and therefore it was base ingrati
tude on his part to play the Don Quixote,
and help the colonists in their rebellion
against their sovereign. The Marquis de
la Fayette felt personally Tnsnltpd hv rhls7
and deemed himself justified in _ demanding
satisfaction." A messenger was sent with
a flag of truce to carry the challenge, but
though the noble lord could not have
thought this opponent beneath him in
rank, he contented himself with replying
that he would leave the quarrel to be set-
tled by Admiral Howe and Comte d'E_s.-_
taing.* My lord was well known in the
fashionable circles of London, and we
therefore caused to be inserted in the
papers, that he was nothing more than a
young dandy, who wore rouge and
* See Note E.

9o

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

patches, and was afraid to fight, and the
laugh was on our side.
A little later on, Comte d'Estaing ap
peared before New York with a fleet of
twelve vessels of the line and several
frigates. The American army, encouraged by
the presence of the French Fleet, ad
vanced the lines close to the city.
D'Estaing had hoped to be able to at
tack the British fleet in the port, with the
advantage of superior force. Admiral
Howe's squadron consisted only of seven
or eight vessels of 50 guns. The French
ships, being much larger, drew too much
water, and were afraid of venturing too
far in, for fear of running aground. The
Languedoc, d'Estaing's flag vessel, mount
ed no guns. They were therefore obliged
to renounce their original plan, and change
their tactics.
The Marquis de la Fayette gave me
a letter of introduction to Comte d'Es
taing, which I presented, though I was
a trifle nervous at the idea of an interview
with such an important personage. He

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

91

received me very well, and asked a good
many questions which I was easily able to
answer. I was closeted with him fully two
hours. I partook of a most excellent din-
ner on board the Admiral's vessel, and
was therefore — mueh — surprised — to— hear
Comte d'Estaing complain that he was in
need of many of the necessaries of life; —
it certainly did not appear so. I an
nounced the speedy arrival of fifty fat
oxen; — which caused such universal pleas
ure that, before I had finished speaking,
the good news was being conveyed by
speaking trumpet or signals to all the ves
sels of the fleet.
All the officers surrounded me. and
cross-questioned me closely as to our po
sition, forces, etc. I was quite an impor
tant personage. Le Bailly de Suffren * —
then only in command of a 50-gun ship —
sent for me on board his vessel. I was
obliged, in order to please him, to drink
such a quantity of punch that when I left
the ship I was afraid I should fall into
the sea.  * See Note F.

92

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

I was very happy to meet my cousin,
the Chevalier de F  , now the Comte
de F  , Grand Cms^of the Order of St.
Louis, and^^Vlce Adnjiral: he "wasthen a
trMs^tr^n:Korr^^ar^a Provence. He
had heard of my escape from Pierre-en-
Cize, and we now met, eighteen hundred
leagues from home, in the midst of a cam
paign; — the proper place for both of us,
however. I was greatly obliged to him
for many kindnesses, and more particular
ly for a small supply of clothes, with which
navalofficers are alwjys^vTeiJ^sTrpplied, and
which, as I greatlyneeded them, I took
care not to refuse.
At last I took leave of Comte d'Es-
taing, who entrusted me with dispatches
for the commander-in-chief. T~r£meirrtrer
that he also gave me some kegs of lemons
and pine-apples, which he had found on
board a prize he had taken. To regain
the camp, I had a voyage of twenty miles
to make in a boat. I was so hungry dur
ing the night that I devoured several of
the pine-apples; and they nearly killed me.
The plan of campaign of 1778 was

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 93
^hanged; a poH-biiigd^attack was to be
madeTTiTe French Fleet was to blockade
Newport, Rhode Island, between New
York and Boston, whilst a part of the
army, under the command of General Sul
livan, and comprising the division of the
Marquis de la Fayette, was to besiege the
place by land.
We effected our landing on_thjs_ hean-
tiful island in the most orderly manner,
and wiljiorM^ any Hifnrnltip.s, under the
protection of three frigates sent by Comte
d'Estaing. Hardly had the troops disembarked
before the militia, — to the number, I be-
lieve. of about ten thousand mm, horse
and foot, — arrived. I have never seen_a_
more laughable spectacle; all the tailors
and-apothergrtesTn the country must have
beeh " .called but" I should think; — one
couTdrecognize themTjy thgir-goSd^wigs.
T4-ey-^weTg~~inounted orf^bad nag;s,jand
looked like g-flock of dmk, nrcTOSs^belts.
The infantry was~iio~5etter than the cav-
alry, and appeared to be cut after the same
pattern. I guessed that these warriors

94

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

were more an^nntri to fat up "1ir g"pphps
than to makeaclose acquaintance with
"the enemy, and i w^not_miati_k__--*==ihSr
soolTdisappeared.^ "~!TTewTays~after we had disembarked,
we opened our trenches before the place,
and the works were being pushed on with
great activity, when the British fleet ap
peared before Newport.
Comte d'Estaing at once gave orders
to sail; there was little wind, but what
there was was favourable. Our fleet de
filed majestically in front of the enemy's
earthworks; each vessel as she passed
gave a broadside of half her guns, amongst
them many 24- and 36-pounders, to which
the forts replied with their 10- and 12-
pounders. Our fleet gave chase to the
British, who made all sail. _ Both fleets
were soon lost to sight. We awaited the
news of a victory, but our fleet was dis-
persed by a terrible ,_sj__x_ri, and the ad
miral's- vessel, the Languedoc, dismasted
by the gale, was very nearly captured by
the enemy. The Cesar, a vessel of 74
guns, commanded by M. de Raimondis,

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

95

separated from the rest of the squadron,
had a very severe engagement with some
of the enemy's vessels. The captain lost
his right arm, but managed to save his
ship, which we thought had been captured.
It was in the midst of this tempest that
Admiral Byron's fleet arrived and joined
that ot Admiral Howe, ihe enemy then
had the advantage in strength.
The siege still went on7~But when M.
d'Estaing re-appeared before Newport he
told us he must withdraw the three fri
gates he had left to protect us, and we
must raise the siege. D'Estaing took all
the fleet to Boston igr repairs.
Gener34fSullivan._a--grv at finding him-
self no longer supported by the French
fleet, went so tar as to insult our nation,
and call the French traitors. Our two
generals were almost on the 'point of
fighting a duel. TheJVtarquis de la Fay-
ette complained bitterly, and with good
reason, to Wasliihglurrr of the treatment
he had received. The retreat was made in
good order, and we rejoined the main
army.

96 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
In this expedition the commanders,
both by land and sea, were dissatisfied with
each other and themselves, but for me the
siege had been rather pleasant, and on one
occasion I received compliments which
were as numerous as they were sincere.
The occasion was as follows:
The Chevalier de Preville, who com
manded the three frigates intended to pro
tect our _ communications, wrote to me
to ask if he could obtain somedupplies^ for
his sailors. I handed his letter to the Mar
quis de la Fayette, and General Sullivan
aujjHjrized me to take a detachment and
fforaggjfoetween the two camps.
"Tor twenty-four hours I was in chief
command, and had to make all the mili
tary and gastronomic dispositions re
quired. The space between the enemy's
forts and our lines was covered with
houses and gardens, the owners_of which
had desexted them- not caring about liv-
ingDetween two fires. My work had to
be carried out right under the enemy's
nose, and I fully expected there would be
some bullets to receive. I had requisi-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 97
tioned all the carts I could find, and filled
Tn^nTwtt-rffrmraTfd, — uc-well do%4 heaven
protect goooTworks, — not a shot was fired
at us. The frigates, being informed by signal,
of the success of my expedition, sent off
a number of boats, and I protected the
convoy down to the beach. You should
have seen with what gusto the sailors de
voured the apples, and with what alacrity
they unloaded the carts of potatoes, car
rots, and other vegetables. Their grati
tude was all the greater as they had been
some time without any fresh vegetables.
They hailed me as the good fairy of the
fleet, and when I went on board I was en
thusiastically welcomed.
The French government at last dfddH
to recognize the United States as inde
pendent, and sent oufM. Gerar3>s French
Ambassador to Congress. It was quite
time France took a step of this kin^jor
the,Jae_p-tfea^she had sent througlQlaron);
<fe Beaumg^_s had not given mucFsaT-
H_rr_oh. The letters that he wrote_to_
Congress, for instance^displayed a levity

98 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
which amounted a1most_to insolence. I
have kept 'a copy of oneof his letters.
"Gentlemen: I beg to inform you
that the ship Amphitrite, of 400 tons bur
den, will leave with the first fair wind for
whatever port of the United States she
may be able to reach. The cargo of the
vessel, which is consigned to you, con
sists of 4,000 muskets, 80 barrels of gun
powder, 8,000 pairs of boots, 3,000 woollen
blankets, also some engineer and artillery
officers; item, a German Baron, formerly
aide-de-camp to Prince Henry of Prussia,
of whom you can make a general.
" I am, Gentlemen,
" Your obedient Servant,
" C. de Beaumarchais." *
The members of Congress were very
indignant about this letter, with the con
tents of which they made all us French
men acquainted, but it was on a par with
all that he did, and what might have been
expected from such a man.
* See Note G.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

99

The German Baron of whom he spoke
so slightingly, was Baron Steuben, a great
tactician, who was accompanied also by
the Chevalier de Ternan, a very distin
guished officer. I have already named M.
Duportail, M. Duplessis-Mauduit, and M.
de la Rouarie. When the last-named pre
sented himself before Congress, he was at
tended by his valet, a tall, handsome, and
very brave man, named Lefevre. M, dp la
Rouarie at once received his commission
as___co_kmel, and, so simple and inexperi
enced were the members of the Commit
tee, that^they offered a similar £o_mmission
to flie valet on the strength of his good
looks. He thanked Congress for the projL
fered honour, but begged leave to refuse
"fE Congress then consisted of thirteen
members, one from each State of the
Union, but men very different from us in
their habits and ways. They took their
seats in the Congress Hall, as we should
enter a reading room in Paris, and the wis
dom of their magnanimous resolutions was
even surpassed by the simplicity of their
manners.

ioo

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

After the siege of Newport was raised,
we returned to the camp. General Wash-
ington an4r^Congre§s decided to send T a
Fayette to France Jxuask-fef- further siqi,.
plJ££u-JCvLjiien~^__d~i_i©ftey,-'"the _AjiTP.rir.an
paper money having fallen into utter dis
credit. Great haste was made to finish build
ing the frigate^^A^anceT^vhich was to be
a fast sailer, armed with thirty-six 12-
pounders^ The command of~the new~ves-
sel was given to a Frenchman, Captain
Landais of St. Malo, but the ship was
under the orders of M. de la Fayette, and
the captain was to land him wherever he
wished. To complete the crew we, un
fortunately, took seventy English prison
ers. They were excellent sailors, and as
they had all taken an oath of fidelity, it
was thought they could be trusted.
The winter was very severe, and the
ship was not fitted out till the end of Janu
ary. The port of Boston was then frozen,
and we were obliged to cut a passage for
the ship through the ice. The wind was
extremely violent, though favourable. We

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. i0l
put up our mainsail only and that alone
took us along at the rate of ten knots
an hour. There were many French officers
on board, amongst others M. de Raimondis,
the captain of the Cesar, who had lost his
right arm in the last naval battle.
Off the Bank of Newfoundland we
were assailed by a terrible tempest. It
lasted so long, and grew so much worse,
that first inquietude, then alarm, and at
last consternation, seized everybody on
board. M. de la Fayette was invariably very ill
at sea: he was down on the sick list. He
often sent me to enquire after old Captain
Raimondis, who suffered much pain from
his amputation, — sufferings which were in
creased by the heavy rolling of the ship.
The old sailor did not take a hopeful view
of the situation; he told me that he had
never, in all his voyages, met with such
a fearful tempest. I carried these remarks
back to M. de la Fayette, but to comfort
him as well as myself, I told him that I
thought the state of health of Captain
Raimondis must necessarily influence his

102 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
mind, and make matters look worse than
they really were. M. de la Fayette lay on
his back and soliloquized on the emptiness
of glory and fame.
" Diable! " he said, philosophically, " I
have done well certainly. At my time of
life — barely twenty years of age — with my
name, rank, and fortune, and after having
married Mile, de Noailles, to leave every
thing and serve as a breakfast for cod
fish!" For my own part I was better off; I
had nothing to lose and no one to regret
me. I went back to the old sailor. He
occupied a cabin on the deck below that
where M. de la Fayette was lodged, so
that in going from one to the other I met
with frequent falls, and had plenty of
bruises to show as the result of my mes
sages. It was impossible to keep one's
feet, owing to the continual heavy seas
which struck the ship. There was some
talk of cutting the masts. One of my
comrades M. de N  , became so excited
that Tj^wjiirn chargp^TJ^jTistolfi, so as
Eo~irnootIhims€_f-T^

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

103

There did not seem to me a pin to choose
between either fate, but his last hour had
not yet come. This unlucky fellow had a
mania for suicide. In 1792, after the 10th
August, he was an officer in the Constitu
tional Guards, and when the " patriots "
came to drag him away to the Abbaye,
he escaped from their hands by passing
his sword through his body. At the end
of three days, — which seemed very long,
I must admit, — the tempest ceased, and
during the rest of the voyage we had
favourable weather.
But heaven had yet another trial in
store for us. Whilst we were at dinner
one day, thinking no more of bad weather,
but of France, from which we were now
only some five hundred miles distant, one
of the crew entered, and asked to speak
to M. de la Fayette. He took the Mar
quis on one side, and told him a good deal
in a very few words; namely, that the
English sailors had laid a plot to kill us,
take possession of the vessel, and turn her
head towards England. This was to be
effected at five o'clock in the evening,

104

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

when the English sailors came off their
watch. Our informant added, that many
of the men, especially the ringleaders,
would be found to have arms concealed in
their hammocks. He had only joined in
the plot, he said, in order to be able to
save us.
There was not a moment to be lost.
We numbered in all fourteen officers. We
began by securing the man who had
warned us, and Duplessis-Mauduit stood
over him with a cocked pistol in his hand.
Some of us then went to fetch the bravest
and trustiest of our sailors, whp came
quickly and ready armed. Thirty of us
went down between decks, and, as the ham
mock of each of the ringleaders was pointed
out to us by the man who had betrayed
the conspiracy, the cords were cut with
one blow of a hatchet, and the man thrown
out, seized, and bound, before he was half
awake. The scoundrels were so taken by
surprise that they made no resistance. At
first they all denied the existence of a plot,
but on being questioned separately, the
fear of being hanged on the spot made

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 105 1
them confess their crime, one of the mo
tives for which, it appeared, was that they
had noticed amongst the baggage of M.
de la Fayette, "pmf ypry hpavy mcpc ™4|jrli
they_suppos.e.(L_contained treasure. The
informer was, of course, rewarded as he de
served. None of us went to bed that night ;
we had to watch over sixty men, bound,
and shut up between decks. In the cabin
which served as our council-chamber, noth
ing was to be seen but loaded pistols and
drawn swords.
At daybreak we. found that a Swedish
merchant vessel was close to us. Captain
Landais made the master come on board.
The poor man's terror at seeing our cabin
was ludicrous, the sight of all these deadly
weapons made him imagine that his last
hour had come. We tried to re-assure
him by signs, for he did not know a word
of French. For two whole days he was
too frightened to either eat or drink,
but he ended hy^findine- ""r dinners
very good, and our wine excellent. Cap
tain Landais maintained that the Swede
was a legitimate capture, but, when we

106 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
arrived in France, we were forced to let
him go.
We were all anxious to see land, for we
were tired out, and we were worried, more
over, by the fear of meeting a hostile ves
sel stronger than ourselves, in which case
it was tolerably certain that the men we
were guarding below decks would have
helped her. We had lost our top masts in
the tempest, so flight would have been im
possible. We were not yet in sight of land,
— though it could have been at no great
distance, — when an English cruiser of 16
guns, saw us and gave chase. As we
showed no guns she no doubt thought ours
was a vessel of the French East India Com
pany, and a rich prize. So sure of this
were her crew, that, as she neared us they
mounted the rigging and cheered. When
she was within half range she fired a shot
to make us show our colours. We in
stantly ran up the American flag, and fol
lowed that by giving her a broadside.
She quickly saw her mistake, and low
ered her flag. We contented ourselves
with sending a boat's crew on board, and

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

107

throwing all her guns and powder into the
sea. We took a lot of Madeira wine, which
we found on board, and then let her go in
this pitiable condition. In our peculiar
situation that was the most we could do.
When we came within sight of the
French coast, I noticed that our captain
was making towards the English Channel.
He would no doubt have been glad to re
visit St. Malo, his native town. I told M.
de la Fayette, who caused him to put the
vessel about and make for Brest, where
we disembarked.

I08 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

CHAPTER IV.
I visit my father, and am restored to his good graces —
Arrival in Paris — Welcomed by all my relatives —
Unexpected appointment as deputy-captain — Ordered
to Lorient — Paul Jones and Captain Landais — Coun
ter orders — Re-embark on frigate Alliance to rejoin
Washington's army — In the absence of Paul Jones,
the command of the frigate is given to Landais — He
becomes insane during the voyage — Removed from his
command by order of the passengers — The campaign
of 1 78 1 — Siege of York Town — The Capitulation of
Cornwallis — End of the American War on the Conti
nent — I return to France on the Ariel, commanded
by Chevalier de Capellis — We fight and capture the
British vessel Dublin — We enter Corunna in tri
umph — Fetes, Balls, etc. — A religious difficulty — We
narrowly escape figuring in an auto-da-fe" — The Ariel
weighs anchor — Arrival at Lorient.
Our first care was to conduct to the
town jail the rascally British sailors we had
had so much trouble to guard. Instruc
tions were given that they should be taken
back to America, at the first opportunity,
and there judged according to the laws of
the country.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

109

The naval officers received us well, but
we could not make a long stay at Brest.
- Everyone of us wished to turn his steps
towards home. The Marquis de la Fay
ette, who no longer philosophized now that
he was safe on dry land, went to the Hotel
de Noailles. His arrival was the news of
the day, both at Paris and Versailles. The
Queen of France did him the honour to
bring Madame de la Fayette in her own
carriage. She was surprised to meet her
husband, for she had not been apprised of
his return.
As for me, I took the diligence and made
my way first to Clermont, and then to the
paternal mansion, the Chateau of Pontgi
baud. ^Gratitude took_-pc£c_:de,uce of nat-
ural affection, however, for as the places
happened to~be on my road, I first went
to Nantes, and thanked M. de la Ville-
Helis, and then to La Rochelle to thank
M. Seigneur for past services. I did not
want to surprise my father by arriving un
expectedly, and therefore took care to
write and announce my return. Along
with my own very respectful letter, I en-

HO A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
closed one which the Marquis de la Fay
ette had been kind enough to write to my
father. In spite of these precautions, I felt a
sort of fear as I entered his room, and ap
peared before him for the first time. We
were both equallyenibaffassed. His cloud
ed brow betokened a storm, not an ap
proaching storm, however, but one that is
dying away in the distance. He addressed
some reproaches to me, but they were
merely a matter of form, intended to keep
up the appearance of paternal dignity, and
mainly concerned the heavy expenses which
my journey from Paris to Pierre-en-Cize,
and my imprisonment there had cost him.
I very naturally observed that perhaps
if he had given me all that money he would
have made a better use of it, and so should
I. This very sensible reflection was too
much for his gravity; he quite unbent, and
it was with difficulty that he could prevent
himself from laughing.
At the^end of twojiojj^jhe^was.jip
longer thejsjna&.JnajirMs curiosity had got
the better of him, and he wanted me to

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. IIX
give a full account of my Odyssey, my es
cape, voyage across the Atlantic, ship
wreck, campaigns, and all. He made me
read to him many times M. de la Fayette's
letter, which corroborated all my state
ments. I say advisedly that he made me
read it to him, for he had lost one of his
eyes, many years before, at the Battle of
Dettingen, and old age had enfeebled the
sight of the other. I passed a fortnight
at home, and by that time every cloud had
passed away, and the sky was blue. I was
so well restored to my father's affection
that when 1 was leaving him to return to
Paris to ask for a position in the army, he
made me a present of 200 louis, increased
my allowance to 1000 crowns, and gave
me the address of a banker whom he had
instructed to repay M. de la Fayette all
the advances he had made on my account.
He even offered to purr-hasp a cavalry <¦""'-
pany for me if I could obtain one. He
gave me besides a letter of thanks to my
general. It was with a heart full of grati
tude that I left him and started for Paris.
The nine beatitudes awaited me there.

112 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
Certainly there must be some communica
tion between heaven and earth, for no
sooner was I restored to my respected fa
ther's good graces than all sorts of good
fortune fell upon me.
At Paris I lodged in furnished apart
ments, not having the least idea where I
should find any of my numerous relations,
whom I believed to all be at their country
houses at that season of the year. My
uncle, the President de Salaberry took me
to his house, and asked me to consider it
as my home. He was a kind, good man,
but that did not prevent him from being
murdered during the Revolution — perhaps
caused his death even. He heaped kind
nesses upon me with the same serenity of
conscience with which, as my father's
brother-in-law, he had loaded me with abuse
in my earlier days; but at that time he had
been prejudiced against me by falsehoods
and innuendoes which he was now annoyed
with himself for believing.
When he had finished welcoming and
embracing me, my kind but over-hasty
uncle handed me a letter from my father,

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 113
dated at Pontgibaud, 19th April, 1779. I
shall never forget the date — albo dies 110-
tanda lapillo. I pressed to my heart this
letter, which was addressed to my uncle,
and in which I was happy to read these
words, which shewed me that my father's
present kindness was due to his sense of
justice. " Monsieur le Comte," wrote the secre
tary, for the good old man was obliged to
dictate his letters, " desires that the Cheva
lier shall want for nothing; his intention
being to compensate him amply for the
misfortunes he has suffered by the, injus
tice which was done him. He has been
the victim of a sordid conspiracy which was
discovered too late."
~~~TTh"ought no more of the injury that
had been done me, except as a pleasing
reminiscence, and dated my happiness back
to the day of my escape, which after all
had been something of a feat.
But I was far from knowing all the
favours that fortune had in store for me.
After I had been three weeks in Paris, the
Marquis de la Fayette informed me that
9 ~~ ~~~

II4 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
the .King had giyenjiim a regiment of dra-
goonsTand thatHis Majestyjhad_gj^ted
me a commission gj. capitaine de remplace-.
"^^TwHchentitled me to halLpay. The
"Minister of War confirmed the good news
in an official letter, in which he said that
by the wish of an important personage who
did not wish his name to be known, —
though I easily guessed it, — and who had
taken me under his protection, the^grice
of the brevet, that is to say 7000 francs,
was remitted, and I had nothing to pay
for my coinnivssion,~~T~'rTa<1 tio fiirfhPT-hap-
piness to desire, for, since the end of the
" Seven Years' War," France had been at
peace, and the army swarmed with young
officers with aristocratic names. It was
more difficult to be a cavalry captain in
1779 than it was to be a colonel twenty or
thirty years later.
The French Government was then
meditating a descent on England. A large
army assembled in Brittany and Nor
mandy, under the command of the Comte
de Vaux. Many transport ships were also col-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

"5

lected at Harve and St. Malo. M. de la
Fayette sent for me and told me that I
was to start for Lorient, in company with
the Chevalier de Gimat, — who had been
one of his aides-de-camp in the American
War, — and there wait for orders. There
were some hints of a secret expedition.
My heart beat with joy. My comrade, who
was much older than I, a colonel, and a
very experienced officer, was in the secret,
but it was in vain that I tried to draw it
out of him. He confined himself to re
peating that I was very lucky, and that I
should find that the patronage of the Mar
quis de la Fayette would be of great serv
ice to me. Beyond this he would tell me
nothing. Many armed vessels were awaiting us
in the port of Lorient; the Bon Homme
Richard, a vessel belonging to the India
Company mounting 54 guns of various cali
bres; the frigate Alliance, on which we had
made the voyage back to France; the Pal
las, 32 guns, commanded by Captain Cot-
tineau of Nantes, an able officer of the
merchant service, etc. These were under

Il6 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
the ordersflf- the_gelebrated American com
modore, Paul Jones, who commanded the
Bon Homme Richard. A number of
brigs and corvettes completed the little
squadron. We were to receive, on board these
vessels and some transport ships, about
3000 men drafted from different regiments
of the French army, and under the com
mand of Marquis de la Fayette. I know
now, what I did not know at that time,
though I much wished to, that the object
of this expedition was to make a descent
uporflreland, whilst the army"of Comte
"de Vaux, protected by the combined fleets
of France and Spain, under Comte d'Or-
villiers, were to co-operate at th£_-sa_ne
jtvp-ie in a similar descent on th&JEnglislv
coasjt^J^or some reason, unknown to me,
le execution of this plan was deferred,
and finally abandoned by the French Ctqv__.
ernment. During the six weeks that I spent in
idleness at Lorient, I was eye-witness of a
most curious, ridiculous, and incredible in
cident. A man in uniform dashed up the

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

117

staircase, rushed into the room wherp T
was sitting, and begged me to protect him.
He looked scared, and anxious. It was no
other than our brave, — indeed more than
bcave^— Commodore, the famous Paal-
Jones^y "Shut the door," he cried. "That
scoundrel Captaig^__andais)met me in the
town and wants to fight me. He is pur
suing me from street to street, sword in
hand. I do not know how to fence and I
do not want to be killed by that rascal."
I closed the door and double-locked it,
but the Captain never came. Certainly
Paul Jones acted very sensibly, for the
match was not equal ; Captain Landais with
his drawn sword would have made short
work of him, and Paul Jones had nothing
but blows to gain by the encounter. This
adventure does not in the least detract
from his reputation. His recent fight with
the Serapis, that he captured by boarding,
placed his courage above all suspicion, and
put him on an equality with all the bold
est, luckiest, and bravest sailors of ancient
or modern times.

Il8 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

His quarrel wit^Captain Landais/ of
which this fight was a "part, was not for
the possession of a Helen^Jii__^fgrjJ-p rom-
mand of the frigatefAlliancej which _had
£eli-roTde£ed^
for, owing to some veering of the political
compass, everything had been changed.
Six thousand Frenchmen, under the
command of Comte de Rochambeau, and
including a great number of young noble
men of the Court, anxious to have the
privilege of serving as volunteers, were sent
to the aid of the Americans, and embarked
on a fleet of vessels, commanded by the
Chevalier de Ternan, which was to sail
from Brest. M. de la Fayette having sent
in his resignation as Colonel of Dragoons,
had taken leave of the King in the uniform
of a Major General of the United States'
army, and was already on board the French
frigate Aigle, commanded by M. de la
Touche Treville. La Fayette was to take
the command of a division of Washington's
army which was then encamped in Jersey
Province, near New York. We received
orders to join him, and embarked on the

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

II9

frigate Alliance, whichwas to sail without
delay. <^QSpism LandaiiPj-ad secured the
cmnmand without striking a blow.
The conqueror of the Serapis had hard
ly left my sheltering roof than he went to
Paris to show himself. The Parisians went
to their windows to see him pass, and
thronged to the Opera the night he went
there. Marshal de Biron, who did the
honours of the capital to all the great per
sonages, received Paul Jones with every
mark of respect, and placed the regiment
of Gardes Franchises under arms, in order
to show it to the commander of the Bon
Homme Richard. But during this time,
Captain Landais remained at Lorient, and
the American Minister we were to take
back, being in haste to depart, took it upon
himself not to wait for Paul Jones, and
nominated Landais to the command.
We had sailed about a week when Paul
Jones returned from Paris, and found him
self without a command. We had on board
two commissioners from Congress, and we
were bound for Boston. It was decreed,
apparently, that I should meet with strange

120 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
adventures during my transatlantic voy
ages. On this voyage the captain went out
of his mind. We had previously noticed
rsl3me~"peculiarities in his manner, and we
were soon to acquire the certainty that he
was insane.
His madness broke out one day at din
ner, the cause being a turkey that he was
carving. Mr. Lee, one of the commission
ers, who sat beside him, took the liver, and
was about to eat it when Landais rose in
a fury, and threatened to kill him with the
carving-knife. Everyone rose, and the two
nephews of the American commissioner ran
to call some of the crew to prevent their
uncle being murdered. Landais shouted
out that the best morsel belonged by right
to theT-faptam. He _aid and did all sorts
of foolish things. I took up my dinner
knife in order to defend myself, for he
seemed as though he were coming at me
to take vengeance on me because I was
roaring with laughter. He was raving mad.
A number of the sailors ran up, and the
commissioners ordered them to seize and
bind the captain, which was done. We

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 121
drew up an official report of the incident;
and the command of the vessel was given
to the first officer.
Under the direction of the new cap
tain, we made a good passage, and disem
barked at the end of ten or twelve days.
Our course of action (in deposing the cap
tain) was approved by the authorities at
Boston. Such was the end of Captain Lan
dais, the rival of Paul Jones — as far as my
knowledge of him is concerned, at all
events, for I never heard what became of
him afterwards.
I hastened to rejoin the American
army, which three weeks after my arrival,
marched for Virginia.
This was in 1780. The little army of
Comte de Rochambeau was blockaded in
Rhode Island, where it had disembarked
about the middle of the year. It was pow
erless to undertake any decisive action until
the arrival of the French fleet.
It was not till 1781, almost a year after
the landing, that the fleet under Comte
de Grasse * entered Chesapeake Bay. Dur-
* See Note H.

122 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
ing this long interval, the American army,
to which I belonged, performed no action
of historical interest. I, for my part, shared
with the others the dangers, and took part
in the few indecisive skirmishes .of the cam
paign, which we passed in marching and
counter-marching, with occasional out
post affairs — in fact it was a war of_flhs_-C-
vation. The approach of the French fleet fa
voured a plan of attack which might result
in a general and decisive engagement,
and Comte de Rochambeau at last left
Rhode Island. Washington's army em
barked, joined the French forces, and we
hemmed in the principal British army
which then occupied Virginia and was in
position at York Town. Lord Cornwal
lis, the commander-in-chief, was attacked
by us on 6th October. One of the two
principal redoubts was carried by the Mar
quis de la Fayette and the Americans a
quarter of an hour before the French,
headed by the regiment of " Grenadiers de
Deux-Ponts," captured the other. The
French and Americans emulated each other

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

123

oura^Jtnd'^obstinac^ and the English
i~_OT_ght likVtrevirsT But British pride

pride
was humbled and~T\Iarquis Cornwallis was
obliged to capitulates^. 
The young>D£ic de Lauzun * was sent

by the two ge__eiife-to~ arrange the terms
of surrender. He went alone, waving his
white handkerchief in his hand, for the
rfuvalric Dnc dp Lan/nn never_a___e5 like
anyone else would in the same circum-
'sTaiTcesTT'he British army did not come
out with drums beating, colours flying, and
all the honours of war, but was forced to
defile between a d"1iri1p r™-nf TJYpnrVi anrl
_mericans, and lay down their arms, to the
shame and confusion of their brave and
unfortunate soldiers^ Marquis i Corn waRfe
wished to give up his sword to Comte de
Rochambeau, but the French general made
a sign with his hand to show that the hon-
our of receiving it belonged to Washing
ton as the conima-i-iet4n-_-hiei
The English, now shut in New York
State, were no longer in a condition to
* See Note I.

124

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

continue the campaign, and there followed
a kir^^jatrirTy^rrangecbtruce extending
6"ver~the ^ighteenjmor'th.s which~pjFm_dtfnf
TFie~declaration of peace^^The combined
•armies of" Washington and Comte de
Rochambeau were compelled to remain in
active, for the surrender at York Town
had settled the question of American In
dependence, though the French and Eng
lish continued to fight at sea for a few
months longer. Being unacquainted with
that kind of diplomacy which leads to noth
ing more than an exchange of cannon shot
between hostile fleets, and finding that not
another musket was to be fired in war on
the American continent, M^de_Ja_Eayette-
left for France,, and, I did the same, for we
KadlTothing in common with the little
French army which remained in the United
States until further orders.
Comte de Rochambeau's officers had
nothing better to do, I suppose, than travel
about the country. When we think of the
false ideas of government and philanthropy
which these youths acquired in America,
and propagated in France with so much

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

125

enthusiasm and such deplorable success, —
for this mania of imitation powerfully aided
the Revolution, though it was not the sole
cause of it, — we are bound to confess that
it would have been better, both for them
selves and us, if these young philosophers
in red-heeled shoes had stayed at the Court.
But a truce to these reflections which
have nothing to do with my memoirs. In
the autumn of 1781, my friend, the Cheva
lier de Capellis, was about to sail for France
in the frigate Ariel, which he commanded,
and he took me on board. The Ariel was
a prize captured by Comte d'Estaing's
squadron; she was a very fast sailer, but
only carried eighteen 9-pounders.
We started with a favourable wind, but
a few days later were assailed by a tempest,
which are frequent in these seas. My friend
swore, as all sailors do, that this should
be his last voyage; he was rich and would
certainly never expose himself again to
any of the dangers of this cursed profes
sion. I did not believe a word of it, and
I was quite right. He related to me the
history of his brother, who had perished

126 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
at sea, — this story always occurred to his
recollection whenever the weather was bad.
The storm, however, was not to be com
pared to that which I had encountered on
my first return, when on the frigate Alli
ance. After a voyage of fifty-five days, we
sighted the coasts of Spain. I must not
omit to mention that when fifty leagues
from land we had the pleasure of meeting
the Dublin, armed with twelve 9-pounders.
She rightly guessed that our vessel was of
English build, and supposed that we were
English, but she very soon found out her
mistake, greatly to our satisfaction, though
not to hers. Both ships having shown
their flags, a cannonade ensued, which
lasted three quarters of an hour, at the
end of which time the Dublin struck, for
we were twice her size. She was loaded
with merchandise.
The vessel and cargo belonged to the
Ariel. I could not help laughing at my
friend Capellis. During the fight he was
everywhere at once, animating the gun
ners, swearing, and crying that our fire

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

127

was not fast enough or heavy enough.
When the Dublin struck, our gunners be
tween decks, being unable to see on ac
count of the smoke, or to hear on account
of the noise, still went on firing. Capellis
then felt that the enemy's vessel was his
property, and that every extra bit of dam
age done her was a loss to him. He quite
changed his tone and cried, " Cease firing!
cease firing! " but no one heard him.
" Upon my word, that fellow has fired
again!" he shouted as he saw one of the
gunners let fly another shot. His anger
was really comic, and I believe he would
have killed the man if he had not been re
strained. We entered the port of Corunna in tri
umph, withour prize, and moored close
to the/Afgonauy a French vessel of 74
guns, CTrnTmanded by M. de Caqueray. He
was about to give a fete on board that dayT
and we received invitations.
Even before we touchecl land, I thus
enjoyed the honour and pleasure of seeing
the ladies of Corunna, who had been in
vited, so to speak, on purpose to meet us,

128 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
but before the ball we were regaled with
an unexpected sight which much aston
ished us.
Before we had even cast our anchor,
we were surrounded by a host of small
boats containing women bringing fruit,
and who climbed up the ship's sides as
though they had been sailor boys. Many
ofthe women were young and prettv. and
did not sell fruit. In spite of orders they
stormed our vessel, and, as the sailorsja-
'vo^fedthem, they were_sog_a all over__the
ship" — except in the gun-room there were
wTJTrre_^"ever^^Kre,• we ,„cou!3ITioF[Te1p
laughing at this strange invasion.
The fete given by M. de Caqueray was
a very grand one, and the ladies appeared
to me charming, for it was so long since
I had seen any.
I was not quite so enthusiastic about
the city of Corunna which these beautiful
ladies and damsels inhabited. I had just
left the United— States, a new country
where the towns were all new and where
the greatest cleanliness prevailed even in
the most humble Habitation; where noth-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

129

ing to excite disgust was ever seen, and
there were no rags, and no beggars. At
Corunna, I found old houses, mendicity
at every corner, an atmosphere infected
with smoke, and the smell of fried oil, and
in fact all the innate dirtiness of people
whose natural element is filth. Add to this
the clatter of carts with wooden wheels,
rumbling over the most uneven pavement
in the world. Jean Jacques would have
quitted Corunna an hour after he entered
it, for he pretends that he was obliged to
leave his lodgings in Paris simply because
he heard a water carrier cry A Feau! in an
unmusical voice.
As I had come from America, you may
imagine that I was asked thousands of
questions. The Duke of Medina-Celi, the
colonel of a regiment then quartered in
Corunna, asked as many questions as the
Bailli in the Ingenu,* but otherwise he
was a very agreeable young man. Span
iards and French were then good friends,
for the two nations had allied their forces
* One of Voltaire's short stories.
10

130

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

against England, and both armies wore a
cockade in which the French white was
mingled with the Spanish red and black.
We were detained by contrary winds,
and we profited by this accident to visit
the port and arsenal of Ferrol.
We were told that it was " a miniature
Brest." I noted that, like our great marine
arsenal, it was entered by a narrow strait,
but I do not otherwise intend to compare
the two. All that I will say is, that I have
seen Brest and I have seen Ferrol.
On our return to Corunna we were in-
vited to a-bafl-given specially in our hon
our: Madame Teuuria7~T-Te""wife of~the
naval commissioner, held a faro bank at
her house every night. I remember that
I once had a mind to play there, and I lost
a hundred louis, — one of the clearest of
all my recollections of my wanderings.
I saw my pieces of gold disappear with
out ever uttering an impatient word, — but
the devil lost nothing by my silence. In
wardly I was harrowed with grief and rage.
My face looked calm, but nevertheless I
was just on the point of kicking over the

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 131
cursed gaming-table, when I was restrained
by a remark of one of the bystanders. I
distinctly heard someone near me say,
" What a fine gambler that young officer
is; he loses and never says a word/' I
felt that I was something of a hero, and
TTrart_g6i a cr.1Hipr T h^fl fQ_SUStain the lipn-
our of the cloth. I put my hand back on
the table, but if anyone could have looked
under my coat they would have seen that
I had buried the nails of the other hand in
my flesh. Nevertheless I left behind me
at Corunna, not only all my money, but the
reputation of being a first-rate gambler.
The experience served me in good stead,
however, for since then I have never played
again. An incident of another nature happened
to us whilst we were at Corunna, — one
that might have had serious consequences
for us, though we were not to blame.
We passed our evenings in one or other
of the best houses of the city, returning
on board about ten o'clock, at which time
the boat was waiting for us. One night,
when the weather was very bad, we hap-

132

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

pened to meet a religious procession in a
narrow street; the viaticum was being car
ried to some great personage, I should im
agine by the number of people who fol
lowed the dais; there were a great many
women in the crowd. We three officers
stood on one side respectfully, removed our
hats, and as it was pouring with rain, we
received all the water from the gutters on
our unprotected heads, and were drenched
to the skin. When the procession had
passed, and was about thirty yards away,
we thought we could with decency put on
our hats, but the people tore them off
again, crying and shouting something we
could not understand, as we did not know
Spanish. With that we all three drew our
swords, whereupon these exceedingly pious.
Christians all tumbled over one another to
get out of the way, and left us a clear road.
We hastened our steps and took the first
cross street we could find. The people,
not wishing to lose anything of the cere
mony, did not pursue us. Not knowing
the town well, we probably did not take
the shortest road to the boat, but we found

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

133

it at last, and were very glad to take our
seats in it.
I mentally recounted to myself all that
had happened to me since Pierre-en-Cize,
and I could not prevent saying to myself,
all that is needed is to see myself flogged
to slow music through this cursed town,
and then figure in an auto-da-fe with a
benito on my head. But that would have
been too much spite on the part of fortune,
to heap so many misfortunes upon a sim
ple individual like me. Providence watched
over us. Our adventure had, however,
created some excitement in the town, and
the commandant requested us to give him
the true account of the matter. When he
had heard it, he recommended us not to
set foot on shore for some days, and he
promised to come and dine on board with
us the following day. He was an Irish
man, very kind and very witty, and we
agreed together perfectly, but we were
disenchanted with Corunna, and a few
days later, the wind being favourable, we
weighed anchor, and, after a good passage
of a few days, landed at Lorient.

134 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

CHAPTER V.
Proposed expedition to Senegal — A visit to Pierre-en-Cize
— The reception I met with there — The reputation I
had left behind me — Institution of the Order of Cin
cinnatus, which I am one of the first to receive — The
pleasures of peace ; mathematics and the violin — Expe
dition to Cochin-China — An Oriental Young Pretender
— Eastern presents — The year 1789 — Physical and
political signs of an approaching Revolution — Infatua
tion of the people at Versailles and Paris — Delille —
Nostradamus — Cazotte — La Fayette and my French
comrades of the Order of Cincinnatus side with the
Revolutionary party — I emigrate with my brother —
The campaign in Champagne — The retreat — We arrive
in Switzerland and establish ourselves at Lausanne —
An account of the members of our little family — How
an important house of business was founded — Unex
pected news — I am called to the United States to re
ceive ten thousand dollars, back pay and interest — I
embark at Hamburg and go to receive my money.
I, and my friend the Chevalier de Ca
pellis at once started for Paris.
We went together to Versailles to see
Marshal de Castries, who was then Min
ister of the Navy; he cross-questioned me

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

135

closely upon the glorious battle of York
Town, an event which has become famous.
I noticed that, as we were retiring, the
Minister took my friend Capellis on one
side, and I heard the marshal tell him, for
I listened, to come on a certain day at a
certain hour, when he would hear some
news that would please him. I was not in
terested, for the affair seemed no business
of mine, but two days later, Capellis came
and told me that the marshal intended to
send a small expedition to seize the Eng
lish factories at Senegal, which, he heard,
were but poorly defended, and could easily
be taken by 150 men: Capellis was ap
pointed to the chief command of the ex
pedition, which was to consist of a frigate
and a corvette. He had asked and ob
tained for me the command of the small
body of soldiers which was to take part in
this bold adventure.
The expectation of figuring as a con
queror greatly delighted me. It was not
much of an affair, I confess, but everything
must have a beginning. The expedition
occupied all my thoughts. I already pic-

136 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
tured to myself the Marabouts, the local
clergy, paying their homage to the con
querors; I shook hands with the King of
Dahomey, and replaced Robert D  in
the affections of the little Queen of Cayor
— to say nothing of the elephants' teeth
and gold which I was sure to find in the
English factories when I had taken them.
Whilst I was building these fine castles
in the air I wrote off to my father, not
doubting for an instant but that he would
share the pleasure, I felt at the prospect.
I told him I was the happiest man alive,
for that I was about to proceed shortly
on an expedition in which I should have
an opportunity of distinguishing mvself
and gaining both " glory and profit." My
father, — an old man with very positive
ideas on certain subjects, and high-minded
and chivalric, — was not impressed by the
two words " glory " and " profit." He
looked at the matter in a different light,
and, — to my great surprise, I confess, —
wrote me, by return of post, a short, sharp
note, in which he said that as soon as he
had finished reading my letter he had put

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

137

it in the fire, in order to destroy all record
of sentiments which did me but little hon
our. The words " glory " and " profit,"
he added, should never come together,
either in the mouth or under the pen of a
French officer, and he begged that I would
never write him anything of the same kind
again. This paternal rebuke, which was
not undeserved, was all that I ever got out
of the proposed expedition, which came
to nothing. As I had leave of absence, and was not
obliged to rejoin my regiment then in gar
rison at Auch, I went to Auvergne and
visited my father, who, now that he had
given me a bit of his mind, was no longer
angry with me. Finding myself, after an
interval of three years, within a hundred
miles of my former political residence, the
castle of Pierre-en-Cize, of which I was
no longer in fear, I one day proposed to
our worthy neighbour M. d'Al  , whose
friendship had been so useful to me, that
we should take a ride over to Lyon. I
wanted him to see with his own eyes the
scene of the events I had narrated to him,

138

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

that he might not believe my account on
hearsay only.
We arrived at Lyon. It is customary
on visiting the castle to give at the gate
your name and that of the hotel at which
you are staying. The corporal who came
out to question us, looked at me, and rec
ognized me, although I was enveloped in
the long cloak of the dragoon uniform.
" Oh, sir," he said laughingly, " there is
no need to ask your name; we are not like
ly to forget it."
The corporal had belonged to the guard
on the day when I had my fight with it.
He eagerly asked us where we were lodg
ing, and an hour after our arrival we re
ceived from M. de Bellecize, the governor
of the castle, a pressing invitation to dine
with him on the following day.
We accepted, and were warmly wel
comed. It was not surprising that in the
short interval of three years few changes
should have taken place in a stationary
garrison like that of Pierre-en-Cize, and
that there should still be many amongst
them who, like the worthy corporal, had

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

139

seen me and known me. During dessert,
a deputation came from the soldiers to wel
come me, and to recite some verses, which
they had made up amongst themselves, in
my honour. The intention was good, and
I took it as such and duly rewarded it, and
the honest fellows were as pleased with
my gold as I was with their verses.
After dinner, M. de Bellecize ordered
the gaoler to show us the room I had oc
cupied, but strictly advised him not to
allow a prisoner named De Livry to see
me. My name was never out of the head
of this unfortunate young man. He was
always talking about my exploit, and had
made several attempts to escape, and com
plained bitterly to heaven that one man
should always fail where another had suc
ceeded. The governor thought it likely
that the prisoner might go out of his mind
if he saw the person about whom he talked
so much, so we did not meet.
On 20th January, 1783, England, by
a solemn treaty of peace, recognized, in
clear and precise terms, the Independence
of the United States.

140

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

One of the first acts of the young Re
public was to found the Order of Cincin
natus, and make it^jiereditary. It had a
sky blue watered ribbon with a white bor
der, below which was an eagle with out
stretched wings in enamelled gold. We,
in France, did not know what was going
on beyond the seas, when suddenly the
Marquis de. la Fayette was surprised to re
ceive a packet of a dozen eagles to be dis
tributed between him and his companions
in arms. I was qne_of the fa"^vp hnnnnrprl
by this mark of distinction. I have heard
thai Comte de Rochambeau received
thirty-six eagles of Cincinnatus for himself
and the principal officers of his forces.
Claims and pretended claims to this
honour came from all quarters, indeed there
has been quite a mania, in France, for or
ders, ever since the days of Louis XIV.
The French navy also asked, and with just
cause, for some of these orders, and I would
not swear that, within a year, Beaumar-
chais himself had not received it; — the
slightest connection with America was con
sidered sufficient basis for a claim to this

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

141

honour. I felt great pleasure in being one
of the first to receive the Order of Cin
cinnatus. I sincerely believed that that would be
all -tile reward we should receive for out

campaign m the XNew World. 1 can truly
declare that IJiadjney^r_eye^otte<l down
the amount of ,myj?ay. as jin officer in the
service of Congress.^ __I_ was wrong~m~my
belief, however, _and joun^pj^afterwardj
_JhatHE had.//lo$t njjtHngJjy^jj^
Jionest people J'^y
After several years of an active life a
state of peace seemed very irksome to me.
I went from Paris to my regiment, and
from my regiment to Paris. I thought of
resuming the study of mathematics, and
found a professor. I shall always remem
ber with pleasure the quiet and modest M.
Pinel * who taught me mathematics. He
had hung up his doctor's hat, and never
carried a gold-headed cane when he came
to give me my lessons. I was surprised to
learn some years afterwards that the cele-
* See Note J.

142

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

brated Dr. Pinel and my former professor
of mathematics were one and the same
person. Not wishing to make my living by it,
I would not study mathematics all my life,
and the days were long, especially to one
who had vowed, as I have already said, not
to gamble. I therefore resolved to learn
the violin, and in my case, tastes soon be
come passions, and the dominant one for
the time being drives out all the others.
After glory had come mathematics, and
after mathematics came the violin. I de
voted myself entirely to the instrument,
with an ardour which now I find it difficult
to understand, and took lessons from all
the great professors of the day. I was the
pupil of Capron, Jarnowiek, Traversa, and
Viotti. I could perform the most difficult
concertos, but I question if I could have
played a jig or a country dance with half
the dash and spirit shown by many a vil
lage carpenter.
Thus did I pass my winters at Paris at
the house of my respected uncle, President
de Salaberry, dividing my time between

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 143
arts and social intercourse. The six re
maining months I spent in garrison, going
from the stables to parade, and from parade
to the exercise ground. The silken thread
of my life was smooth and even, but I felt
a longing for adventures, and at one time
I really believed there was a chance of my
getting some fighting in India.
One of the missionary priests brought
to Paris a youth whom he called the pre
tender to the throne of Cochin-China. This
young Tonkinese prince — whose legitimate
claim to the throne I never for an instant
doubted — had in his suite several man
darins, who were the smallest men I ever
saw, and the young prince himself did not
give promise of being any taller. In fact
it was difficult to look at them without
laughing. The report given by the rever
end father, and our commercial interests,
half induced the Government to help the
little prince to regain his throne, all the
force that he required to effect this being
a couple of frigates, and some 500 soldiers.
I was told that Comte de Behague, who
commanded at Belle-Isle would be the

144

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

head of the expedition. I knew him very
well, and I hastened to beg him to solicit
the Minister to give me a command under
the Comte in this expedition. I was in
error, there had never been any question
of employing Comte de Behague, and I
do not know to whom the command was
eventually given.
It was a pleasant dream the more; but
at all events I had the advantage of seeing
the royal present which the little prince
had bestowed, — I do not know why, — on
the Comtesse la Marck. She was then liv
ing in the Tuileries, in the rooms now oc
cupied by the Dauphiness. I saw on the
chimney-piece a pair of stag's horns, — a
singular present about which a good many
sarcastic remarks were made. For my own
part, I was more struck by the beauty of
the Cochin-Chinese stags than I was by the
importance of a kingdom, the sovereign of
which could be driven from his throne by
five hundred men and a couple of frigates,
but, between ourselves, I never said this
until after I knew that I should not belong
to the expedition.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

145

This dislike to repose, and uneasy long
ing for war, or rather this undefined need
of activity and love of change is character
istic of the French, and I was not the only
person to suffer from it. It was a fever
which affected, in one way or other, all
ranks of society, at this epoch.
Louvois,* it is said, declared war
against the Palatinate because he had con
tradicted his master on a question con
cerning one of the windows at Trianon,
when the King was right, and he was
wrong. Ever since the American war, the
heads of all the youths of the court and
the city had been in a state of ferment.
Imitation was all the  rage, and the
English and Americans, — the two most
thoughtful, practical, and solid nations in
the world, — were hp1Hjip_asjTiodp1s to be
imitated by__-hf most witty and- frivolous-
jaeople^ To this strange infatuation was
joined also that discontented grumbling
spirit peculiar to the French. The govern
ment should have provided the people with
* See Note K.

I46 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
some object, — no matter what it was, — to
distract their attention. Were not duels
fought about the relative merits of Gluck
and Piccini, for want of other motives? A
pretext should have been found to take up
the quarrel of the Stadtholder and Hol
land, and defend the United Provinces
against Prussia. A war with Prussia would
have suited the belligerent instincts of our
impulsive and over numerous youths, and
would have served to retard the advent of
that terrible drama ^"p^ tnp T'Vnrh Pgvo-
lution by at least ten years. More than
this even should have been done, and when,
England was in a dangerous situation
owing to her struggle with her~ revolted
colonies, France shmildrEave acte^-ltF-nedi-
ator, and_not as an auxiliary to the other
s^£Z~M&~§hQuld hayejrecoye^d_C^n_Lda^
jpain, and Gibraltar; nor would there have
beenjnuchjiiffieulty (in mediating) fr.r in
the Congress of the ^ thhjteen-JSjates, s[x
members, including ^^ashingionAimise
joted against a rupture with the mother
Icountry ; — but it was decreed on high that
at was not to be so.

i

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

147

I am sure that about this time, — either
in 1785, or 1786 — I forget which year and
month, — I read in the Mercure the follow
ing prophecy.
Inscription found at Liska, in Hun
gary, ON THE TOMB OF REGIO MONTANUS.
Post mille expletos a partu Virginis annos
Et septigenos rursiis abinde datos,
Octogesimus octavus mirabilis annus
Ingruet et secum tristia fata feret.
Si non hoc anno totus malus oecidet orbis,
Si non in nikilum terra fretumque ruent,
Cuncta tamen mundi rursum ibant atque
deorsum
Imperia et luctus undique grandis erit?

¦ *

I am aware that Regio Montanus, or
Muller died at Rome in 1476, and was
buried in the Pantheon. He was not, I
believe, a prophet any more than Nos-
* A thousand years after the birth of our Lord, and
seven hundred years more, the eighty-eighth, a memorable
year, will come, and bring sad events. If this year the
wicked world is not destroyed, — if the sea and the land
are not brought to nothing, — all thrones will be again
overturned, and universal mourning shall prevail.

148 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
tradamus was, but, whether there is an
error in the place of his burial, or whether
the verses are falsely ascribed to him, is
beside the question. I saw them and read
them in the Mercure, in 1785, 86, or 87,
and in 1788 the political atmosphere of
France and all Europe was disturbed by
violent storms, and the verses were re
printed in all the French and foreign
papers. I make no remarks thereon, but
content myself with noting the coinci
dence. To the year 1788 succeeded 1789,
when the -Revolution burst forth, — a ca
lamity of which ho une calculated the ex-
fSrrt, and for the results of which we have
hacFtu ¦pay dearly .  "
^T_mongst the enthusiasts were those in
fatuated with the novel ideas they had im
bibed in the classic ground of America,
and joined to them were the young lords
of the Court who were associated with
some literary men, and thought themselves
very clever because they frequented the so
ciety of the witty and impertinent Champ-
fortj He laughed at them, and with good
reason. He it was who once, on a yacht

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

149

on the Moerdick, impudently said to the
Comte de Narbonne and the Comte de
Choiseul, " My dear friends, do you know
of anything in the world more idiotic than
a French gentleman! "
To these were joined the disciples of
that school, the head-quarters of which
were the Hotel de la Rochefoucauld, in the
Rue de Seine, presided over by Madame
d'E  , the members of which comprised
philosophers, philanthropists, economists,
— all the grumblers ; the Vicomte de B  ,
who was nothing at all, except a good
dancer; and Le C  , a little monkey of
an Abbe, crooked as Scarron, but remark
able for turbulent oratory. The Queen
sarcastically called him General Jocko.
There was also Heraut-de-Sechelles,* a so
cial favourite, who could have attained the
highest posts in the magistracy without
the trouble of saying or doing anything,
for he enjoyed the interest and good- will
of everybody, and had some wit, and, it
was said, talent. He was related to
* See Note L.

I5o A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
Madame de Polignac, and openly protected
by the Queen of France. So much for the
city. As to the court, it may well be asked
what spirit of insanity had seized all the
aTnriirpTg^n'-^.m!^^ SYS-
tem""and revolutionary ideas, and in fact
all' these reformers d talons rouges^tomaSs
them so desirous of a new order of things,
and so hungry for any change from the_ex-
isting order of affairs. Some of them were
led~^stTay"by~a~'ialse ambition, and each
thought himself, no doubt, called upon to
play the part_of a second_ Washington.
Such, I imagine, was the case of the two
L  's, the nephews of the Marechal de
R  , both of them in favour with the
Queen, who had bestowed upon each a
regiment. These Court revolutionists,
anxious to ingratiate themselves with the
mob, displayed the blackest ingratitude,
and their mountebank endeavours to ob
tain popularity and pose as philanthropists,
* The courtiers. It was a mark of nobility to wear
shoes with red heels. ED.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

151

made them resemble the dog who dropped
the meat for the shadow.
Some of them were credulous enough
to imagine that if a Revolution did come,
it could be stopped at exactly the right
point to suit their personal interests.
The Due d'Orleans and his friends
thought that the Revolution would turn
out to their advantage by causing a change
in the dynasty, but they could not foresee
that, if the King came to the scaffold, they
also would go there, either before him,
with him, or after him.
The Parliaments thought themselves
sure of the good opinion of the people be
cause they had refused to support the
stamp act and the land tax, and because
they had demanded " States General."
The moneyed classes of Paris were in
favour of the Revolution ever since M. Ver
nier had told them that the Nation would
take the public debt under its special care;
— they were painfully undeceived when the
same man said two years later that he
would make two-thirds of them bankrupt.
The only persons who were not under

152 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
a delusion were those who having nothing
to lose had everything to gain, and the
majority of them were but raised to be
dashed down again.
Whatever anyone was bold enough to
do he could do with impunity, as far as
the monarchy was concerned. Louis XVI,
theb^sLTiatiirffd and m"rt ^"""f<- ™^n in
his kingdom, said to his reader, M. de
Septchenes, who had been reading to him
the history of the English Revolution in
1641, " If I had been in the place of Charles
I, I would never have drawn my sword
against my people."
That excellent prince should never have
said that or even thought it. On 23rd
June, 1789, the King, addressing the States
General, said, " Gentlemen, I command you
to adjourn at once." The King left, and
President Bailly remained. Mirabeau re
plied to M. de Breze, who had repeated
the King's order, " Go and tell your Mas
ter that we are here by the will of the peo
ple, and will not depart till we are driven
out by bayonets." From that moment the
Revolution was proclaimed.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 153
All the events, crimes, misfortunes, and
excesses which rapidly followed were but
the inevitable consequences of these first
acts, and therefore I will not dwell here
upon the 14th July, and all the awful scenes
of that terrible day.
Animus meminisse horret luctuque refugit.
The establishment of the National
Guard at Paris to keep the insurrection
within bounds, was deemed a sacred duty,
but by that very act the Royal power was
suspended, and, from that day, France had
twelve hundred legislators, of whom the
Empress Catharine II said, that " No one
would obey them, except the King." It
was not the King, it was not the so-called
National Assembly, it was the people, who,
on 16th July, appointed M. Bailly Mayor
of Paris, and M. de la Fayette, Commander
of the National Guard.
The same day, — 16th July, — the Comte
d'Artois, the House of Conde, and Prince
de Conti, left France, and the emigration
commenced. M. de la Fayette was then Commander

154

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

of the Paris Militia, and the General Fair
fax of the French Revolution. Many pro
posals were made to me to join my old
comrades in arms, and serve under the or
ders of this general. My attachment to
him was not so great that I felt forced to
follow him in any path which it seemed
right to him to take, and I refused. It has
been wisely said that, in a time of revolu
tion, to do your duty is not so difficult as
to know your duty. I knew mine, and I
did it ; I should have acted the same could
I have foreseen future events. The worst
of all positions is to be between the ham
mer and the anvil, which in France, at
that time, meant to be between the Revo
lution and the Monarchy. A choice had
to be made. It appeared to me that I
could best assist the cause of the Mon
archy by emigrating; to many other peo
ple, — and I do not blame them, — it ap
peared that it could best be helped by their
staying in France; some of them, indeed,
could not do otherwise. I will not dis
cuss the matter; thousands of pages might
be written and the question still remain

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

155

unsolved, or further than ever from a solu
tion. I wish to narrate here only personal
events and circumstances — memories teem
ing with observations that may be useful
to others beside myself.
My brother and I emigrated, being
both persuaded, — as were all the emigres
who formed the Prince's army — that we
might inscribe on our banners, " Veni, vidi,
vici," and we entered Champagne in 1792
with the King of Prussia.
Verdun was captured 3rd September,
and the next day the army could and
should have arrived at Chalons, which is
only thirty leagues from Paris, where King
Louis XVI and his family were then pris
oners in the Temple. The French army,
inferior to us in numbers, covered an im
mensely long line, and would not have been
able to stop the eighty thousand men com
manded by the Duke of Brunswick, from
reaching Paris. But not a day should have
been lost, and we lost whole weeks.
The war of 1792 was but a war of
Cabinet intrigues, fallacious negotiations,
false calculations, in which each of the

156 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
powers was misled, and the cause of the
French Princes, the Bourbon Monarchy,
and the unfortunate Louis XVI and his
family counted for nothing. The Revolu
tionists alone were the only persons not de
ceived and misled, and they won the cam
paign without having to fight.
In this famous campaign of 1792, com
manded by the first General in Europe, the
celebrated Crown Prince, having under his
orders 60,000 Prussians with the King of
Prussia, and 20,000 Frenchmen with the
King's brothers, both armies might have
said that they never saw the enemy. A
few skirmishes with outposts or with the
advance guard were dignified by the Revo
lutionists into battles and victories. They
were right, for these skirmishes were the
only visible result of the war, and in fact
all this invincible armament accomplished
was the capture of Verdun. The magis
trates presented Frederick with the keys
of the town, and some confectioners' girls
brought some anisette, — an attention for
which they paid dearly, for the ferocious
Jacobins afterwards sent these unoffending

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

157

persons to the scaffold. The Duke of
Brunswick capitulated, retired, and re
passed the frontier, to the indignation of
the French princes and the 20,000 armed
men who had followed them; to the dis
gust of all true soldiers, — men like General
Clairfait; — and to the astonishment of all
France and the Jacobins themselves, for
the mob will never learn this eternal truth,
that great events spring from the most
trivial causes, and even from the lowest and
most absurd motives.
Proh! pudor! A retreat was ordered in
accordance with the capitulations, but the
French hussars plundered the baggage of
our rear guard. A dull grey sky, contin
ual rain, mud in which horses sank to their
bellies, and wagon wheels to the hub, were
the sinister omens which accompanied our
retrograde march. Add to these also the
complaints and consternation of the in
habitants, who had indiscreetly welcomed
us on our triumphant entrance, and who
now feared to remain exposed to the
vengeance of the bloodthirsty ruffians
whose fury would know no bounds.

1 58 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
Entire families of Alsatians followed
the army in its retreat. Many indeed still
remained under the yoke, and after the
fatal day which ended the campaign of 1792
by a shameful and inexplicable retreat, it
is difficult to say which were the more un
fortunate, those French people who left
their country or those who remained there.
In France nearly every family was devas
tated by death, which fell upon people of
every rank and every age.
From the 10th August, 1792, until 9th
Thermidor, 1794, no citizen, though he
belonged to the temporarily dominant fac
tion, was sure that he would sleep another
night in his bed, and that he would not be
led to the prison and the scaffold.
Outside France, after the retreat from
Champagne, all the French emigres and
their families may be said, generally speak
ing, to have made shipwreck of their hopes
and prospects. Happy were they who
found a place of refuge, and a stone on
which they could lay their head. Europe
did not suffice to accommodate these rest
less wanderers, as I discovered for myself

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

159

when my good fortune caused me again to
cross the ocean and revisit North America
ten years later. That visit was not the
least curious of my experiences, but I must
not anticipate events.
All the cleverest, coolest, and most
thoughtful men in the army which entered
France, had calculated that the campaign
would be over in a fortnight. Many peas
ants had emigrated with the gentlemen of
their province, or the officers of their regi
ment. With the exception of the engi
neers, every branch of the services was well
represented, for a great part of the artillery,
nearly the whole of the naval, and a large
majority of the infantry and cavalry offi
cers, had responded to the appeal of the
King's brothers, the Prince de Conde, and
Marshals de Broglie and de Castries.
The retreat, which almost resembled a
rout, had undeceived even the most con
fident of us. In France, all emigres were
proscribed under pain of death, so everyone
who had a family to protect or support
sought for a haven of safety and rest. My
brother and I reached Switzerland, and

t6o A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
stayed, in turn, on the shores of the Lake
of Geneva, at Lausanne, and in the Canton
of Vaud. My brother, who was by nature the
most calm, thoughtful and least adventur
ous man in the world, had so completely
shared in the general error as to the cer
tainty of our success, that he had con
tributed all his available cash, amounting
perhaps to 40,000 francs, to the fund, raised
at Coblentz by the gentlemen of our prov
ince, for the support of the army. He en
tered on the campaign with fifty pieces of
gold in his pocket, and a horse worth
eighty louis under him. When we arrived
at Basle, we found ourselves in poverty.
We had no servant, and carried what prop
erty we had about us; we could have ap
propriately quoted the saying of Bias ; *
so my brother was obliged to sell his horse
in order to save its keep, and the Bucepha-
* One of the "seven sages" of Greece. When his
native town was taken by an enemy, the inhabitants saved
all they could, and advised Bias, who bore no burden, to
follow their example. "I am doing so," said he, "for I
carry all my valuables with me."

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 161
lus of eighty louis was sold for twenty-five.
I should not have noted this incident but
for a curious remark that it recalls to my
recollection. A long time afterwards my
brother was recounting his adventures to
some of his Swiss friends, who were listen
ing with interest and attention to the re
cital of his political and pecuniary difficul
ties. When he mentioned the sale of a
valuable horse at such a low price, a worthy
Swiss, thinking only of himself, said with
native simplicity, " You should have kept
that bargain for me." He was a good hon
est fellow, for if he had not been, he would
not have been capable of making such a
very naive remark.
The Revolutionary storm had extended
over all France, and covered the entire
horizon, but we believed that it was but a
storm, and we must put up with what we
could not prevent, and whilst the evil days
endured, the best thing to be done was
to find a shelter for myself and family in
some hospitable land.
We did not foresee, or consequently
fear, that the Revolutionary party would
12

t62 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
confiscate and sell the property of all ab
sentees, without distinction of rank, age,
or sex. This compelled my sister-in-law
and her two sons to join us. She left the
Chateau of Pontgibaud, in which she had
resided since the rather recent death of
our father. He died some months before
the Revolution broke out, and was, at
least, spared the pain of seeing it. My
sister-in-law had left all her furniture in
the manor-house, and the keys, so to speak,
in the doors, for she thought she was only
going to be absent a short time. The ut
most that she expected was that the estates
would be sequestrated for a short period.
She brought with her therefore as little
baggage as possible, in order to experi
ence the less difficulty in passing the fron
tier, but fortunately brought her jewel-
case, which in this hour of misfortune, be
came the means of saving us all.
The family consisted of my brother, his
wife, their two sons, — the one a youth, the
other a young child, — a lady's maid who
had insisted on following her mistress, and
a musician, named Monsieur Leriche, a

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 163
man whose talents were only surpassed by
his good qualities.
A consultation was held as to the best
means of gaining a livelihood, and the plan
agreed upon was strictly followed. Ad
versity is the touchstone of resolute minds,
and men of resolution rarely fail to win in
the long run. My brother and his wife
afford an instructive and encouraging ex
ample of what can be done by a father and
a mother having united aims, and trust in
God and in their own efforts. To vanquish
evil fortune, they called in the aid of resig
nation, courage, employment, and perse
verance, and joined to those qualities, fore
sight, economy, and natural, or acquired,
aptitude. It is with admiration mingled with re
spect that I think of their continual labour
day and night, and its gradually widening
results, and that I remember the more or
less fortunate attempts, which marked the
reconstruction of my brother's fortune.
Though he had possessed rich estates, and
houses in Paris, he had lost all, and his
total resources, in a strange country, did

1^4 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
not amount to more than ten thousand
francs. But he and his wife had the patience
and perseverance of beavers, which when
their huts have been carried away by a
flood, immediately set to work to recon
struct them. They began to work for their
own living, and that of their family. My
brother, who when he was rich had culti
vated for his own pleasure his taste for the
arts and sciences, now utilized his acquire
ments as adjuncts to the business he was
trying to found. Drawing, mechanics,
chemistry, agriculture, mineralogy, and
mathematics, — he had studied all; and he
found or made opportunities to employ all
his knowledge.
I cannot, without emotion, and without
feeling faith in that Providence which has
said, " Aid yourself and I will aid you,"
think of this tiny rill of water which became
a rolling river of Pactolus, these small ef
forts which in ten years developed into a
thriving industry. To the praise of human
nature let it be said, that from the very
beginning of his industrial and commercial

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 165
scheme, his courage, perseverance, imper
turbable coolness, honesty, exactitude in
fulfilling all his engagements, and his con
stant schemes, as prudent as they were in
genious, met with that support and good
will which a man who possesses these quali
ties will always obtain.
My sister-in-law, though but just be
fore she had been accustomed to all the
enjoyments and luxuries of life, or rather
to the honourable use of wealth, became
in twenty-four hours a housekeeper, and
worked with her own hands. She could
embroider, and her faithful maid was also
of use to her in this work. Her husband
had become an artist, and invented designs
in embroidery which he sold for a crown
each, or sometimes the women worked
them. When he had again become a mil
lionaire, I have heard my brother, — who
was as quiet and unassuming in his man
ners in his prosperity as he had been in
adversity, — when he went, as he often did,
to see Comte de C  , who comes from
our province, and is our friend and neigh
bour, always ask to see N  , the Comte's

1 66 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
old valet. N  had formerly been a small
tradesman at Lausanne, and had ordered
patterns from my brother and paid him a
crown each for them, to the mutual satis
faction of both parties. Such is the way of
the world. Whilst the women and my
brother worked, our fellow boarder, M.
Leriche, the musician, would give concerts
in the different towns in Switzerland, and
bring back the pecuniary results of his tour,
— the harmonious sounds of his Stradi-
varius converted by our Amphion into
ducats, — as his contribution to the com
mon fund. He insisted upon paying all the
school expenses of my young nephew.
" Did you not give me a pension, Mon
sieur le Comte, when you were rich? " said
the kind-hearted, honest musician when he
first joined our little household. " It is
bad enough that you have lost your for
tune, there is no need you should lose your
friend as well. As for the pension, let it
go: you can renew it some day, when we
have returned to France." My other
nephew, being older, was serving in Con-
de's army.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 167
At any rate the manufacture prospered,
being further helped by some new work
men, also emigres, being some of the officers
of the regiment my brother had com
manded, and whom he had sent for and
informed that he could find them means to
live honourably by the work of their own
hands. The calamities and excesses at
Lyon brought to L  a number of mer
chants, who had managed to save between
them a large quantity of merchandise, and,
before long, my brother enjoyed their good
opinion and confidence.
It was proposed to him he should visit
the great fairs of Leipzig and Frankfort,
and sell goods on commission. Being quick
and clever, as well as scrupulously honest,
he was fortunate in all his transactions in
every journey. He obtained credit, by the
aid of which he was able to do business for
himself. He sent embroidery even into
Italy, and also took the productions of his
own workshops to Frankfort and Leipzig.
He even did some business in diamonds,
having acquired in earlier days some knowl
edge of precious stones. Thus he reaped

I 68 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
where he had sown, and was able to turn
to advantage the varied knowledge he had
gained in his youth.
I heard_one day that the Americans,
who were increasing in prosperity year by
year, wfM~e jTmvjiLn condition to pay their
back debts, and had decided that all offi
cers who had fought in the War of Inde
pendence should upon presentation receive
all their pay with interest to_date._ To me
this was a real peculium adventilium, for I
had long since given up all hopes of ever
seeing any of that money. I was glad to
learn that there was a sum at my disposal,
and without loss of time started for Ham
burg to embark on the first vessel ready
to sail for North America.
I found an American three-master of
good appearance, for they had, and justly,
the reputation of being very good ship
builders, but, as there was not at_,that tirnp
any Admiralty supervision in the United
Stafei-j many vessels were lost at sea

through the rashness or caxele.sanesa___Lthe
sailo£s."T was mistaken; the ship had been
newly painted, and the paint hid the faults,

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

169

but the first rough weather we experienced
showed me that she was worthless. I made
a remark to this effect to the captain, and
was not much reassured to find he agreed
with me. He coolly remarked that he
thought she would manage to reach the
other side, but in any case it would be
her last voyage. Nevertheless we entered
the Delaware without meeting with any
accident, and the tide being in our favour,
I landed at Philadelphia.

170

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

CHAPTER VI.
My third voyage to the United States — Philadelphia trans
formed into a new Sidon — The same simplicity of man
ners — Mr. MacHenry, Secretary of War — M. Duportail
— Moreau de Saint-Mery — I meet my old friends again
— A triple partnership with Senator Morris at the head
of it — Burke's prophecy — Plans proposed to me —
Viscount Noailles — The Bishop of Autun — A mission
to the Directory to claim an indemnity — Marino, the
pastry-cook, and M. de Volney — The Princes of Or
leans — An elephant with a French driver — A trip to
New York — Colonel Hamilton — Past, present, and fu
ture of the United States — I meet the Chevalier de la
C  Our recollections of M. de la Fayette — His escape
from the fortress of Olmutz — Dr. Bollman — My return
to Europe and arrival at Hamburg.
I had fully expected that six years of
peace and stability would have repaired
the ravages done by the long war, and that
those houses which threatened to fall in
ruins would have been repaired, for during
the war, want of resources prevented the
State from undertaking anything, the
needs of the army absorbing all the money

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

171

— but I was far from expecting the magic
and magnificent ftpfictarlt- which the first
rays of the sun showed me.
It was not a rebuilt, restored, plastered
over Philadelphia that I saw, but a new
Thebes, a new Sidon. The port teemed
with war ships, or merchant ships, equipped
oriri construction : on the quays there were
a thousand new houses, and public build
ings which resembled palaces, — an Ex
change in marble, the United States Bank,
Congress Hall, all showed me that Phila-
delphia had become in six years, populous^
flourishing, industrious, rich, and powerful.
But if 1 did not recognize the city, I
did the inhabitants — the natives, I mean.
As to the strangers who formed a floating
population, I could not help smiling as I
noted some faces I had seen elsewhere, but
I will speak of them later on, they ought
to have a chapter to themselves.
My first care was to see after the prin
cipal object of my voyage, the recovery of
my pay and the back interest on it, for my
surprise and admiration at the city did not
make me forget the business I had come

172

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

upon. The account being made up it
seemed there was due to me about 50,000
francs, but the papers which would enable
me to claim the sum were in Paris. In
default of these papers it was necessary
that two' householders should be surety for
me. I knew a good many old officers, but
none of them possessed sufficient means to
be accepted as^bjyi'W me. The_Pre_ai__ent
of thpJJVvjtpd Stntfij Cm ml Wishii'^l'""
ITunself, was kind enough to relieve me
from ri'irg^embarrassmenL and the 50,000
ft aMLS-"y7ere"p"aid over to me, and placed to
my account.
The object of my mission being ful
filled, the remainder of my stay at Phila
delphia until my return to Europe, was em
ployed in the observations_of an idle jrav-
elk^r^with^n~TmTeTtered and philosophic
mind. "The Government officials were as sim-
ple in their mannerjyyj-ggej^J had occa
sion-IP call upoBfd^TrTMacHensy? the Secre-
tary of War. It^TaT^outeleven o^clock
in the morning when I called. There was
no sentinel at the door, all the rooms, the

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

173

walls of which were covered with maps,
were opgn^and in the midst of this soli
tude I found two clerks, each sitting at his
own table, engaged in writing-. At last I
met a servant, or ratheHd-Syservanj) for
there was but one in the House, and asked
for the Secretary. He replied that his mas
ter was absent for the moment, having
gone to the J5arber's to be shaved. Mr.
MacHenry's name figured in tfie~State
Budget for $2000 (10,500 francs), a salary
quite sufficient in a country where the
Secretary for War goes in the morning to
his neighbour, the barber at the corner,
to get shaved.
T was as much surprised to find all
the business of the War Office transacted
by two clerks, as I was to hear that the
Secretory liaOhgongTo'The barber's; both
details wereTn harmony with the spirit of a
nation that knew how to pay its debts.
This recalls to my mind the very singular
recompense which the American Congress
awagtefl^oGeneral Stark, the conqueror
The British general, dressed in a mag-

174

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

nfficent uniform, covered with gold,
andwith a cocked hat on his head, had
been obliged to surrender his sword to
-^eneraLStar^^o for his part, wore an old
_i_nSer1ora~cToak. had a cotton cap_s__!£k
over one ear, and thick, heavy shoes on his
feeT: Tt was a typical represet-taHorToTir
poor and oppressed people triumphing oyer
a riclL_a-i4-i-_selent'----<-^-attJiy. Congress,
in a sudden accession of generosity, ordered
that the conqueror should be presented
with two ells of blue, and one of yellow,
cloth to make him a coat, and half a dozen
shirts of Dutch linen.
I well remember hearing General Stark
complain loudly in my presence, when he
received this gift of the nation, that Con
gress had forgotten to give him any cam
bric to make the cuffs.
This fact, which in the present day
would appear incredible, was made the
subject of endless jokes in the English
papers of the day, then ready enough to
find any subject on which they could twit
the conquerors.
What curious reflections this antique

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

175

simplicity suggests, especially when we
consider that even now, thirty-hve years
afterwardsll„_,tl3£_..J5am.e  prindB__^prevail.
?What will become of effete old Europe
with its budgets of thousands of millions,
when compared to (*Q^£p5_?«$\ governed
ko cheaply, that the io©¥e_5__rerit appears
to be done by contract, where even the
President is obliged to represent the na
tion on a salary of 125,000 francs, and is the
only man allowed to have a sentinel at his
door? Mr. MacHenry, the Secretary of War,
recalled to my mind the name of a French
ex-Minister of War, my old comrade, M.
Duportail. I learned that my old friend
was still in the United States, and that he
had bought a little farm near the city, so
I hastened to call upon him. I met him
at a little distance from his house, and,
judge of my astonishment, or rather in
clination to laugh, at finding him dressed
in full French fashion, with his hat under
his arm, though he was eighteen hundred
leagues from Paris. It was ten years since
the Revolution broke out, but he appeared

176 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
to be still awaiting the news that his port
folio had been restored to him. That was
his daily and hourly thought, — a hobby as
innocent as that of Uncle Toby, — and after
he had expressed his pleasure at seeing me
again, his conversation was of nothing but
the ingratitude of the French nation, and
the admirable projects for the imp______e-
ment____rthe army that he had_intend£d to
carry out;____.
Ah," he said, " how sorry I was to
hear you had emigrated. What a fine
chance of promotion you would have had
if you had remained with us. You had
been through the war in America, and,
when I was Minister, I would have given
you whatever you asked for."
That would have been easy enough for
him, it is true, but, all other considerations
apart, his present condition was not cal
culated to make me regret the step I had
taken, for all that remained to his Excel
lency of all his former grandeur, — which
had lasted but six months, — was a little
farm in the New World, a couple of leagues
from the primaeval forests, and within

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

177

three days' journey of the borders of civi
lization. But his fall, which appeared to him so
impossible, and such a political mistake,
was no more of a fortuitous circumstance
than his rise, which he could never have ex
pected either.
Alas, I met in the streets of Philadel-
phia plenty of great men brought down
to__the dust again, men whose ambition
had deceived them, fools punished for their
folly, men of yesterday who were no longer
men of to-day, and parvenus astonished to
find that Fortune's wheel had not stood
still when they were uppermost.
For my private instruction, my friend
Duportail told me the names of the French
refugees who had found in Philadelphia
an ark of safety like that of Noah. The
blowing up of the good ship, the French
Monarchy, had been caused by their fol
lies and mistaken notions, and the explo
sion had thrown a good number of them
over to the United States. But they were
not corrected or disabused of their errors,
and brought to a better state of mind, but
13

178 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
each and all, — Constitutionalists, Conven*-
tionalists, Thermidorians, Fructidorians, —
imagined that their political downfall had
been brought about by some ill-chance just
as their plans were within an ace of suc
ceeding. They kept their eyes fixed on
France, to which they all expected to re
turn sooner or later and recommence what
each called his great work, for there were
exactly the same number of political sys
tems as there were refugees. Jji-the-UniteA
States you might have believed yourself
in the Elysian Fields described in~tTig"S---rrr
Book of the -Eneid, where the shades still
pursue the same ideas they h^d__chenshed
irfthe otherworld.
Buta man must live, and the most
curious spectaclejj_asJ-a_see. theaa^Ergnchr.
a^Trria^^hosLJ^Ljprmer greatness.
zmd nonexercising sometrade or profes-^
One day I entered a shop to buy some
pens and paper, and found the proprietor
to be Moreau de Saint-Mery,* one of the
* See Note M.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. \jg

famou^' electojs^ of the Hotel de Ville,
of ParisTtn 1769. ~
" You do not know, I suppose," he
said pompously, when I had finished mak
ing my purchases, " who I am and what I
was? "
" No, upon my life, I do not," I re
plied. "Well/' he said, " I.— the very man
you see before you,— was ruler of Paris for
Tnreefoyj3.jmd_rW pem^Jink^^
gain a living."
I was not so much surprised at this
fresh instance of the instability of human
affairs as I was to find this petit bourgeois
really believe that he should astonish pos
terity. Nor was I particularly astonished
either to learn, some months later, that
he was a bankrupt, but I may remark
that he failed for twenty-five thousand
francs, and I would not have given a
thousand crowns for all the stock in M.
Moreau de Saint-Mery's shop. Strange
to say there is no country where bank
ruptcy is so frequent: — event — morning

.180 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
you see sales by auction in some of the
streets^ A good many other personages besides
" the electors of 1789," and who when in
France had cut quite another figure, were
to be found walking about the streets of
Philadelphia, as the Vicomte de Noailles,
Due de L  , M. S  , Volney, the
Bishop of Autun, and tutti quanti.
Some of them gambled on the Stock
Exchange, and nearly always successfully.
Others were not so fortunate, and their
speculations were more risky; nor were
they above laying traps for those of their
countrymen who had newly arrived in
America. Senator Morris had conceived a vast
and adventurous undertaking. The cele
brated Burke had written somewhere or
other that Europe was about to totally
collapse, and that North America was des
tined to receive the refugees and all the
goods they were able to save. The Sena
tor, in company with M. S  and Vi
comte de Noailles, speculated on this
prophecy. They acquired more than a mil-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 181
lion acres, situated on the banks of the
Susquehannah, and this land, divided into
large or small lots, was advertised in the
papers under the heading of " Good land
to be sold." Nothing was said about resi
dences — the purchaser was apparently to
build his house to suit his own taste. To
encourage their clients they also con
structed in the city an immense building
in which all the great personages they were
expecting on the faith of Edmund Burke
could be suitably lodged. The Pope, the
Sacred College, a few dethroned monarchs,
and other notables, were to rest there till
they had recovered from the effects of their
sea voyage, and before making up their
minds to purchase a slice of American ter
ritory. It is literally true that this enterpris
ing company had agents on the look-out
for all emigrants who arrived from Europe.
Their factotums kept a watchful eye on all
newly-landed passengers, who appeared to
have some baggage, and not only compas
sionated their misfortunes, but offered
them the means of repairing their loss, by

1 82 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
the purchase, in a new and hospitable land,
of another estate of dimensions propor
tionate to the means of each new-comer.
The price was reasonable enough, — only
six francs an acre, — but the agent did not
say that it had cost the Company he repre
sented only fifteen cents an acre.
I knew a milliner who had made some
money, and who purchased an estate at
Asylum, the fictitious capital of this im
aginary colony. The poor dupe went to
inspect the estate which she had bought
the right to build on, cultivate, and live
upon — and then she came back to Phila
delphia to gain her living with her ten
fingers as she had previously done.
One of these agents, who had not much
more sense than the devil of Papefigue,
was ill-advised enough to apply to me, hav
ing heard, perhaps, some vague rumours
about my being a French emigre and pos
sessing some money. He did not trouble
to enquire where that money came from,
and how I had gained it, but started at
once with a long discourse on the princi
ples of humanity which animated this phi-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 183
lanthropic enterprise, and then went on to
boast of the beauty of situation, the fertil
ity of the soil, the rich prairies to be
mowed, etc. " All materials are at hand,"
he said, " and everything has been pro
vided. There is a master builder paid by
the Company. We have even a restaurant
in order to spare trouble to our newly-
arrived colonists." He strongly urged me
to buy five hundred acres of this new Prom
ised Land — all for the modest sum of a
thousand crowns.
I took care not to interrupt him, and
let him persuade himself that he had con
vinced me, and that I believed his state
ments, but when he had finished I told
him that there was not a stone in the whole
country, that two hundred acres of that
land would not support a cow, and that
no meat was to be found there unless you
killed a deer. I added that as I had been
all through the War of Independence I
knew all about the district he had been
describing, and that his boasted philan
thropic speculation was a mockery and a
snare. I ended by saying that the last

1 84 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
and worst misfortune which could befall
the unfortunate French emigrants, was to
find themselves swindled by their own
countrymen — men heartless enough to im
pose upon the credulity of strangers, and
sell them a few sand-hills planted with
scrub-pine for an Eldorado.
I have never seen a man look more dis
concerted than this unlucky agent did, but
I should like to have seen the reception
that the speculative triumvirate — to whom
I had the honour to be known — gave their
clumsy emissary when he rendered an ac
count of his visit.
Providence, however, did not permit
the enterprise to succeed, and the three
speculators came to a bad end. Senator
Morris, crippled with debts, died in prison ;
M. T  went mad, and Vicomte de
Noailles,* after having won four or five
hundred thousand francs on the Philadel
phia Exchange, left for St. Domingo,
where he was killed on board an English
cruiser. He, at least, died like a brave

* See Note N.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 185
man, as he had lived; — that much praise
is due to his memory, but that does not
prevent me from relating a story concern
ing him which is a proof the more of the
inr-nnsistpnry displayed by some of our il
lustrious faiseurs duTittg- the Rcvoltr-Jonr
The incident occurre^_-Ulldel^ liiy-oaQgygSr
and I laughed heartily at it, as everybody
else did.
This ex- Vicomte had a deed drawn up
at Philadelphia by one of the notaries of
the city, and when it was read over to
him, he perceived that he was mentioned
therein by the name of M. de Noailles.
He was exceedingly angry at this, and in
sisted that the deed should be re-written
and none of his titles forgotten — Vicomte,
Knight of Saint Louis, Knight of Malta,
etc. The next day, the newspapers were
impertinent enough to repeat — con licinza
superiori — what had passed in the office,
and all Philadelphia knew of the quarrel of
the Vicomte with his notary. The story
was accompanied by a note to this effect:
" It is singular that a member of the Con
stitutional Assembly, who proposed the

i86 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
law of ci-devants, — a French nobleman who,
on the famous night of 4th August made
a holocaust of the titles, deeds, armorial
bearings, etc., of all the nobility, commenc
ing with his own, — should insist on those
titles being applied to him in a land of
political equality, where all distinctions are
unknown." Let us pass on to another emigre. The
Bishop of Autun,* who had been requested
to " get out " of England, had established
himself in the free land of America. Mon-
seigneur wore a pigtail and would willingly
have said as Abbe Raynal did, " When I
was a priest." He was not at all troubled
about his present condition, and still less
about his future ; he speculated, and
laughed at everything and everybody. His
company was much sought after, for he
was an amusing companion and had plenty
of wit of his own, though many witticisms
of other persons were often ascribed to him.
In spite of all his wit and amiability he
was looked upon somewhat coolly by the
* See Note O.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 187
best society of Philadelphia, with whom his
light, careless manners did not meet with
the welcome they deserved. In fact the
Anglo-Americans are simple and straight
forward in their manners, and the cynical,
irreverent contempt of their guest for all
things Americans respected greatly scan
dalized them. M. de Talleyrand had the
right, if it pleased him, to pull off his cler
ical gown and trail it in the mud, but he
had also at that time a position as a French
emigre, and though he might resign for
himself the welcome bestowed upon unfor
tunate people in that position, he also in
directly injured others. Were the Ameri
cans right to be vexed with his conduct?
Everyone may judge for himself.
Canlinal_de_Richelieu, when he went at
night to visit Marion de Lorme, was care
ful to disguise himself as a cavalier, with
spurs on his boots, yet he did not escape
being ridiculed. The Bishop of Autun did
not take these precautions, having pecul
iar ideasasjtg^jJ-je-rights of man, and con-
iencein the unbounded 1ibprry tn hp
-ound in the New Worlds He might be

1 88 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
seen walking the streets.. of Philadelphia,
itL open day, wi__l„a^9iai---eJL^Qma£_on
his arm. This was_3 gratnitnns insult Tn
the manners and customs which — rightly
or wrongly — prevail in the country, and
where-social pfeiudices have such weigh!
and importance that.._iot pven an pnsjpn of.
hussars would dare to run counter to them.
The Americans were certainly accus
tomed to see Quakers, who would not take
off their hats, and even shirtless savages;
but all, from ..the Congressman to the
workman, read one or other of the thou
sands of newspapers which appeared, and
they were not ignorant of the cele
and-fehe-responsible position of <MT de Tal-
lej^ranxL-----All the details of his life as a
priest were known, from the first act of it,
— his installation as Bishop of Autun, — to
the last, when he officiated at the Altar
of the Country in the Champ de Mars on
the famous day of the Federation of 1790.
A refugee so celebrated should have exer
cised some circumspection in regard to his
private life.
That he did not preserve his ecclesias-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 189
tical character when he was outside the
pale of the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman
Church, the following story will testify.
M. de Talleyrand had with him a fierce
dog, which was a very sagacious animal.
When it wanted to enter its master's
house it would ring the bell, and if the
door was not opened, instead of waiting
it would go to the lady's house, and lie
upon the bed until the return of the two
lovers. But instead of relating a part of what
the Bishop did, it would be preferable to
recall to mind what he told us.
Amongst other things he related in his
own inimitable manner an account of an
interview he had at London with a Gas
con refugee. Early one morning he heard
a knock at his door, and asked, " Who is
there? "
" The Chevalier de C  ," replied a
wheedling voice with a strong accent of
the land of the Garonne.
The Bishop of Autun opened the door,
and the Chevalier entered and after a series
of bows, said, " M. de Talleyrand, I have

190

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

always heard that you were the cleverest
and most sensible man in the world."
M. de Talleyrand imagined that his
visitor had come to borrow money, and
was ready to reply, " I was just going to
ask you," but it appeared that all the Gas
con required was some advice.
"Well, Monsieur, what is it?" asked
the Bishop of Autun.
" The fact is, Monsieur de Talleyrand,
that I left the manor-house where I lived,
and went to Coblentz, and so I am what
is called an emigre, and now I want to know
the best means of getting back to France.
As you are so clever will you be kind
enough to advise me? "
" What sort of position did you occupy
in your province? "
" No position of importance."
"What sort of life did you lead, and
what fortune had your family? "
" We are four brothers, and papa has
an income of about five thousand francs a
year." " Oh, well, no one is likely to interfere
with you. I suppose you have a few crowns

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

I9I

left; go to Huninguen, Neufchatel, or
Saint Claude. You will be sure to find a
guide, some good fellow who will see you
across the frontier; then you must avoid
all the villages, only travel at night, and
as you have the happiness to be unknown,
you can reach your ' papa's ' house unper-
ceived. Then keep yourself quiet, be wise
and discreet; never speak about Coblentz
or emigration, and await events."
" Ah, Monsieur de Talleyrand, how
grateful I am to you. They were right in
saying you are the cleverest man in the
world. I will return home to papa: but if
a second Rpyoliitinn should nrrnr, yon
mav bet T will hp nn tr|p sidp of thp
people." " Take care not to do anything of the
kind!" cried Monseigneur. "Take care
not to do anything of the kind; next time
you might make a mistake."
This last sentence contains quite a char
acteristic touch, and is the whole point of
the anecdote.
The Bishop smiled when he heard of
the establishment of the Directory; the dia-

to2 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
bolical spirit incarnate in him advised him
to return to France.
Id us of his intention, and_Colon£L
_amiltcmjfemarked that the country was
¦sthTTn a very disturbed state, whereas in
the TJm'tpH qtatPg hp ronld Jvve_at ea___.
"Yes," he said, "but I understand
France and the French. Have you never
been in a stable when the stable hands
have forgotten to give the horses any hay?
The horses neigh and stamp."
We on our side represented to him the
dangers he ran as a priest, as an emigrant,
and finally as himself. Any one of these
reasons would have sufficed to deter many
a brave man, but had no effect on him.
" No," he said laughingly, as he stepped
on board the ship which was to take him
back, " I have nothing to fear over there;
I am up to all the tricks of revolutions."
It was not without difficulty, however,
that he could find a vessel to take him.
No American captain was willing to give
him a passage, perhaps on account of his
political importance, or perhaps because he
was so much disliked.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

193

In fact, besides the causes I have al
ready mentioned, a report was current that
once in a conversation about the loss of
Hayti, when someone spoke of the diffi
culty of reconquering it, and of the scarcity
of negroes in America, he said, " Why not
establish the slave trade here? The West
India Islands are nearer than Africa."
This remark, and the lady of colour,
did not tend to place him in the odour of
sanctity in Philadelphia. A tempest drove
into the Delaware a Prussian ship, and the
captain consented to take the ex-Bishop,
but the crew did not appear over delighted
with their passenger. I should not have
been surprised to hear of the sailors doing
as they did in an amusing story told by
Bacon, when, after having first confessed
all their sins to a Capucin monk who was
on board, the sailors thought they would
appease the wrath of heaven by dropping
him into the sea.
Thus we saw depart the diable boiteux *
who since, — under the name of the Prince
* An accident in infancy had rendered Talleyrand lame
for life. 14

194

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

de Benevento, — persuaded at the Congress
of Vienna the kings of Europe to again
march against Bonaparte and, for the sec
ond time, put the Bourbons upon the
throne of France. Suum cuique.
In the pentarchyat the Luxembourg at
this time was Citoyen Rewbel, a friend of
Citoyen Talleyrand, and immediately upon
his arrival our ex-Constitutionalist received
from the Jacobin Conventionalist the port
folio of Foreign Affairs.
The worthy Anglo-Americans no sooner
learneJcTTEat tfieir " guest " TTalTHJecome
Minister,~"tKan they foolishly imagined the
ocTOSTOir^In^^
demand andjobjaijijiisjjjce.,,, Forgetting all
aBouT the lady of colour, and the proposal
to establish the slave trade amongst them,
they sent off three members of Congress,
— whnm T saw ^rnl anrl return. — Their ob-
lerffwas to demand compensation in the
name of the UjuteiLSjaJ&&iQX^
merchant vessels flying the American flag,
¦•vfateh^fieTiiis et nefas— -the French Re
public had captured duringJlieJ_hr__e years
the red cap adorned her brow.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 195
The disappointment and surprise of
these ingenuous envoys was worth seeing,
when they returned and narrated the de
tails of their mission, and described the
kind of diplomats with whom they had
come in contact, and the impudence — as
they artlessly called it — of the proposals
which had been made to them.
The first ambassador was of the fem
inine sex. A Madame de  presented
herself to the envoys from Congress, de
scribed herself as a friend to the cause of
the Independence of the United States,
which had always been dear to her heart,
etc. — and so, having paved the way, an
nounced the visit of the most famous M.
R  de St. F  , who would be able
to discuss the affair thoroughly. This sec
ond envoy dropped a hint that it was in
dispensable for the success of the demand
that a little money should be spent. The
ambassadress then reappeared, and finished
by declaring that the affair might be ar
ranged for the sum of fifty thousand livres
sterling, of which so much was to go to
His Excellency as a douceur or " sweet-

196 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
ness " (that is the exact word which the
envoys used in their public report to Con
gress) so much to M. R  de St. F  ,
for his part in the negotiations, and so
much for " incidental expenses," by which
term Madame l'Ambassadrice probably
designated her own share of the plunder.
In short, the ambassadors returned
with all their evidences and documents —
but no money. I was present at the mem
orable sitting of Congress when one of the
envoys read the report he had prepared.
There was a mention in it of Citizen Talley
rand, which it is to be hoped he read in
the newspapers of the day.
" This man," said the orator, " to whom
we have shown the kindest hospitality, is
now the Minister of the French Govern
ment, and to him we presented ourselves
to demand justice. And this guest with
out gratitude, this Bishop who has re
nounced his God, was not ashamed to rob
us of 50,000 livres; — 50,000 livres which
went to support his vices! "
I said to myself, " Good, easy people,
they are worthy of their country; an Eng-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

197

lishman would have found no difficulty in
settling the matter."
Many other celebrities of different sorts
did I see at Philadelphia during my third
sojourn in America, — so different from the
two preceding ones. Here is another scene
which I saw acted on the same stage,— that
is to say in the same city.
Marino, who had formerly been cook
to my old friend the Chevalier de Capellis,
had, for private and political reasons, taken
up his residence in this city, and enjoyed
the reputation of being an excellent pastry
cook. One day I was in Marino's shop, or
dering some dish, — we were old acquaint
ances and I knew him to be not only a
skilful cook, but a brave and honest fellow,
— when a stranger entered. He was un
known to both of us, although he was a
Frenchman, and, — as will be seen, — en
joyed some celebrity. The new-comer or
dered a pate, composed of the choicest deli
cacies; he was going to invite a score of
persons to dinner, and I fancy that the
Due d'Orlean and his brothers were to be
amongst the guests. The pate was duly

198

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

ordered, the price was arranged, and all
that remained to be done was for the
pastry-cook to write down his customer's
name and address.
" Volney," * said the stranger.
"Volney!" roared the cook, who was
as great a royalist as his former master, De
Capellis,— "Volney! Volney!"
I wish I could have painted him in his
wrath, with his white cap on his head,
his apron tucked up, and a big knife stuck
in his belt. Quitting his stove and its
saucepans he came forward, and cried in a
voice of thunder, — though his indignation
caused it to tremble —
" Get out of here, you scoundrel ! Get
out of my kitchen, you accursed atheist.
You confounded revolutionist, you have
robbed me of two-thirds of the money I
had invested in Government Stocks. I
don't work for " — (I have toned down his
remarks) — " people of your kind. My stove
shall never get hot for you."
And the famous, or too famous, Mon-
* See Note P.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

I99

sieur Chassebceuf de Volney had to make
his exit from the shop of the best pastry
cook in Philadelphia, — without his pate.
I have mentioned that the Princes of
Orleans * were to have been present at
the dinner at which Marino's pate did not
appear. They had been some time in the
country; — they stayed in all about six
months. Once, whilst on their way to
visit a colonist who lived at some distance
from the city, one of the brothers was lost
in traversing a forest. He was found by
an Indian, who tracked him as a sleuth-
hound would have done.
After some time the Princes of Orleans
went South to visit Louisiana, which then
belonged to Spain. The Chevalier de
Carondelet, who commanded for the King
of Spain, received them at New Orleans
with all the honours due to their rank;
but, during their stay in the United States,
no one, — except the French, who, what
ever their political opinions might be, could
not regard princes of the blood royal of
* See Note Q.

200 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
France as ordinary personages, — knew
them, saluted them, or designated them
but by the name of Equality. To the
Americans this appeared the most natural
thing in the world. You would read in
the newspaper, " Yesterday the Brothers
Equality slept at such and such a place,"
or " We hear from  Town that the
Brothers Equality have arrived there."
On one occasion the three princes went
to pay a visit to General Washington at
Mount Vernon. The negro, who an
nounced them, said to Washington, " Ex
cellency ! Excellency ! there are three
Equalities at the door."
Different countries have different man-
G^eral/^ajhjng.to-r^S:>received the
Princes of OrTeansT* but his doors were
closed against the Vicomte de Noailles,
the Bishop of Autun, and even my friend
Duportail. The liberator of his country
felt deeply for Louis XVI: th,? TCing'c por
trait hung in his room, and he often looked.
a.t J^b^-ncver-^trrout-^at'y-tn- his1 -eyes.
Whilst on this subject I may relate

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 201
that, during my stay at Philadelphia, an
Indian chief was once at dinner in a house
where there was a picture of King Louis
XVI, after Muller of Stuttgart. Many
toasts were proposed, and at last the In
dian rose, and standing before the picture,
said, to the great astonishment of all the
guests, " I drink to the memory of the
unfortunate king who was murdered by his
subjects." A number of French persons of both
sexes, all ranks, and all opinions, "huxhset-
tled in Philadelphia and New York. Out
side each of these cities, and scattered over
the eighty miles or so between them, were
many colonists who had escaped from the
massacres of Hayti and had found refuge.
They were in some instances accompanied
by negroes who had remained faithful to
them. These refugees rented farms be
tween New York and Philadelphia, and
having saved their lives, had next to find
some means of existence, for living is very
dear in this country. The Comtesse de la
Tour du Pin had purchased a little farm at
Albany, and went to market herself to sell

202 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
her milk, butter, and poultry: she was
much respected by all the country folks.
I remember also that I met an old sol
dier of the Royal body-guards, who had
escaped the massacres of the 5 th and 6th
October. He had sold a little farm he had
in order to buy with the money an ele
phant, which he had taken the precaution
to insure, for in the United States you
can insure anything. I was much amused
at this novel industry. This soldier of the
King's Guards who had left Versailles to
become an elephant-driver in North Ameri
ca, had already had the luck to make four
teen thousand francs by exhibiting his
noble animal, which perhaps was a direct
descendant of the elephant of King Porus.
Finding myself only some eighty miles
from New York, I was curious to revisit
the scenes of some of our battles, and also
to inspect the city, which I had never seen
except from outside, when our army was
blockading it. It was with interest and
emotion that I revisited Topanah, on the
banks of the Akensie River, where the un
fortunate Major Andre was executed. I

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

203

recognized with more or less pleasure (ac- '
cording to whether they reminded me of
victories or defeats) the different positions
which our army had successively occupied.
My surprise equalled my curiosity when
I entered New York. I admired, — from
within this time, — this handsome city,
which had then but 25,000 inhabitants (it
numbers 120,000 to-day),* and the beauti
ful neighbouring island called Long Island.
I was enchanted with all I saw, the~eTe-
gance and cleanliness of the houses joined
to the beauties of virgin nature; then the
width and extent of the water ways, which
are almost seas ; the giant trees which form
the primaeval forests of the New World;
in fact all which is not the work of men's
hands is so surprising on account of its
imposing and gigantic proportions, that
when I returned to Europe I seemed to be
in another world — the Continent appeared
to me like a pretty miniature reduced from
a large picture by means of a pantograph.
I was glad to meet some of my old
* In 1828, when the book was written.

204 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
comrades in arms, both French and Ameri
cans; amongst others the brave and wise
Colonertlamilton^3he friend of Washing
ton, amTwlTrrwas afterwards unfortunately
killed in a duel by Colonel Burgh.* Ham
ilton, who had quitted the army and re
turned to civil life, was a lawyer, and
pleaded in the courts and gave consulta
tions. We often talked together, — much
to my profit.— of the causes of the war, the
actual condition of the United States, and
the .'probable destiny of t1ie~naTion. Any
one who had heard us talking about events
which were then a matter of history, would
have taken us for two of the speakers in
Lucian's or Fenelon's Dialogues of the
Dead. " The AmericanJWar," I said, "began
in a very singular manner, and was carried
on ma way yet more~ singular. It seems
to~me, on summingtqTainnyoTjservations,
that the English made a mistake in send-

* The error is obvious. Perhaps a Frenchman, writing
in 1828, can be pardoned for recalling Burr as Burgh, when
an Englishman, nearly 70 years later, describes Farragut
as " the great Confederate admiral."

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

205

ing troops against you, instead of with
drawing those which were already in the
country, as you did not submit at once
you must have inevitably ended by win
ning sooner or later. You gained experi
ence and discipline in the indecisive~enr'
gagements' which were fought, and the
scholars were"Tolmdto finish by becom
ing as clever as their mastersT EoTjfcp-fos
instance, at the Swedes under Charles XII,
and the Russians under Peter the Great."
" You are right, no doubt," he replied,
" but their second fault was to give the
two brothers Howe each a command. The
"general undertook scarcely anything by
land in order to allow his brother, the ad
miral, the chance to distinguish himself
at sea. All that the English need have
blockade our ports with

line.

frigates and ten ships of the

of thejcgSJl "Thank God, indeed," I said^forJL
believe that America would_haye come -to-
"tEemother country. I am the
more~Tnciined to believe this, as I notice

206 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
there are a great many Tories in your
country, and I see that the rich families
still cling to thekingjs government."
"~"' Yes; and thus it happens," he replied,
with a smile, " that though our Republic
has only been in existence some ten years,
there are already two distinct tender
^the^ oner~tfemocraticJ>the other (Srist
cratic^In Europe they alwavs speak of
the American Revolution, but our separa-
tTOrriTo'nTThe mother country cannot be
Called a rev Petition. Therehave been no
cliaiigetsin^tne^^ betsfTlnterfered^irii^eya^^ in
hisjiacej and all., t hat.is,^lt©F€4-is-tteSthe.
seat j^ jjavejamieixL^^
equality exists amongst usjat present^but
t^r^^^iS^L\il&-^£Lexea£e. of man
ners between the inhabitants of the North
ern and Southern States. The negro is free
at Philadelphia, but he is a slave in Vir
ginia and Carolina. Large fortunes are
made in the Southern States, because the
country is rich in productions; but it is not
the same in the Northern States."
" Yes," I said, " those who claim to

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

207

look into the future may see in your nation,
-— as~you say,— two diverging tenxienHes.:
the one^toward^^mocrac^. the other to-
wards <«^toiaacypbjtit if^some separation'
of these elements could be made quietly1
and without strife, would the people "Eer
any the happier? Territorial possessions
are, there is no doubt, but lightly esteemed
in your country, which is perhaps owing
to the fact that the British or Anglo-
Americans of to-day only date back to
Penn and his colony, or only a hundred
years or so. An estate over here rarely re
mains ten or twelve years in the same
hands." " That is partly due," answered he, " to
the facilities for changing our place of resi
dence, and to the fact that land which is
relatively dear near the great cities, is much
cheaper at some distance from them. Be
sides we are essentially business men; with
us, agriculture is of small account, com
merce is everything."
" That is true," I said. " Many persons
believe they have but to land in the United
States to make a fortune, and the first

208 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
question that is put to you when you ar
rive, is : ' Do you come here to sell or to
buy? ' "
I have given, as nearly as I can re
member it, all that passed between the sol
dier-lawyer and me at this interview, but
I cannot forget the singularly wise reflec
tion that I heard him make one day, on
the subject of the French interference in
the American War.
"""Considering the question by itself,"
'I said to him, " the Cabinet of Versailles
would seem to have committed a political
fault in having openTy supported the Ameri-
cans^inTfie'WaTTrHTid^ particularly for having sent over here all
It has been maintained that the proper
addojriJfo£_Fj^nce.„was. jt q, j^maitL. nei;traC
and take_adjyantage_of the difficulties of
r£ngland,jto occupy, an^^usjnake her re
store, Canada^jfvhich has always remained
French at heart. This double opportunity
oTwar, or re-occupation, would have fur-
nished an outlet for surplus population,

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 209
which, failing that, has overflowed in the
f&lin uf a revolutTonTon'our own~monarchy,
"SncT fias~tnen" inundated°Europe."
~TKis~"speech made 'Turn" think of the
young nobles, who had overrun America
nke-rne sneep of Panurge, without, how
ever, reducing the surplus population of
France, and Colonel Hamilton could not
help laughing as he replied:
" You are right. I am speaking in op
position to our own interests, for it is~to
the .French armsthat we jawe" our inde-
pendence, but your Government would
perhaps Have dTJnebetter if it had sent us
your" lower "orders" instead of your upper.51'"
I found at Philadelphia, my friend De
la Colombe, who, like me, was aide-de-camp
to M. de la Fayette during the American
War, but with this difference, that when
our civil dissensions broke out, he still re
mained with the general.
" You were wrong, my friend," he said
to me, " not perhaps in not casting in your
lot with ours, but in refusing on principle
to have any communication with us. I
might perhaps have been able to dissipate
is

2io A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
some of your delusions, and induced you
to reconsider the matter, and afterwards
you could have done as you thought
fit." He told me many things which aston
ished me, even after the events which I
had seen; — especially when he assured me
that at the time when we believed all Eu
rope, even including Russia, to be pre
paring to take up the King's cause by a
general armament, Prussia had, through
Ephraim, a Jew of Berlin, proposed an of
fensive and defensive alliance with France,
the sole condition being that Louis XVI
should send the Queen back to Vienna. I
do not refuse to believe that this proposal
was really made, but it seems strange that
the avowed enemies of this unfortunate
Princess should intentionally or uninten
tionally have tried to save her from the
scaffold. My old comrade of the War of Inde
pendence, who had thrown himself, along
with his old general, into the vortex of
the Revolution, had afterwards retired to
the United States, where like the wise man

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 211
in the story, he listened to the distant echo
of the storm.
Of the unlucky M. de la Fayette we
both spoke in a befitting manner; he, be
cause he had always followed him; I, out
of gratitude for past favours, and we often
also spoke of his share in the American
War, in which we had both been actors,
and both under his orders. In the course
of conversation, M. de la Colombe related
to me the history of one of the adventures
of our general — a story which my depart
ure for America on my third visit, had pre
vented my ever kearing before.
" You have heard," he said to me, " how
M. de la Fayette quitted, in 1792,. the army
whidi lie commanded, and r,ame__to Paris,
and how, after having failed to carry out
his good~TnlentionsTTie^eturaed to MaiP"
beugej__withm the _sad_. ,conyiction_jthat he"
would not be able to do any good, orjpre-
yent any evil, Jejth^rjn_J^ariv-flr_jffi,ith_ the
army^ You know that finding himself in
this difficulty he deserted his party, and,
with some of his officers, presented himself
at the Austrian advanced post, and de-

212 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
manded permission to pass. This permis
sion might easily have been refused, but
there was no justification for arresting the
party, for, as you are of course aware, all
that they wished to do was to get to Os-
tend and then come over here. To the
shame and disgrace of the Prince of Co-
bourg, however, or rather to the Court of
Vienna^ M. de la Fayette and the officers
who accompanied him, were all made pris-
oners and closely confined in the citadel

ot Ulmutz. You know that I was one of
his companions in misfortune, but you do
not know, for it is not known in Europe,
of the plan, its preparations, and the carry
ing out of his escape, which only failed
through his own fault, for he did escape,
and was, so to speak, wrecked in port.
Here is the story.
" General Washington, who was still
President at that time, made instant ap
plications to the Cabinet of Vienna to ob
tain his friend's liberty, but met with a
formal refusal. ^A_plan of escape was then
arranged over here, and Congress devotprj^
a sum of 400,000 francs to its execution.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

213

You have seen almost every day, at Phila
delphia, the man who was charged to carry
out the scheme; it was a German doctor,
named Bollman, a man of ability, who did
not need to be taught his lesson. Time was
needed to carry out the scheme, and a
good deal of audacity had to be concealed
under a good deal of skill and prudence.
" Having provided himself with excel
lent letters of recommendation the doctor
arrived at Hamburg, as though to exer
cise his profession in Germany. He lived
in good style, kept a carriage, visited the
sick poor without a fee, and did many
charitable acts in a simple and unaffected
manner, though he followed in the foot
steps of Cagliostro and the famous Count
St. Germain. He was as slow as a tortoise
in accomplishing his end; stopped in all
the principal towns of Germany, and when
after a very slow progress, he did arrive
at Olmutz, he had already achieved a repu
tation for science, kindness, and philan
thropy. He did not omit to pay a visit to
the governor of the fortress as soon as he
arrived, and quickly made the acquaintance

214

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

of that worthy German, who often came
to see him, and invited him to dinner. The
champagne was not spared on these occa
sions, and, at length, one day, over the
bottle, the doctor hinted that he had heard
in the town that a prisoner of some impor
tance, who was under the governor's care,
was in a precarious state of health. He
remarked that, in his own interest, the
governor should see to this, as if the pris
oner died, his death would be imputed to
neglect or ill-treatment, and the odium
of that charge would rest not only on the
gaoler, but even on the sovereign.
" The guileless governor grew fearful
of the consequences that might ensue, and
begged the doctor's help and advice, and
the other protested that as a good and
loyal German he was ready to do every
thing he could for the patient. Trusting
in the good faith of Dr. Bollman, the gov
ernor conducted him into the prisoner's
cell. The doctor took advantage of the
opportunity, and whilst feeling M. de la
Fayette's pulse, slipped into his hand a
note which informed him of the plot, and

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 215
raised his hopes of ultimate escape. Boll
man gravely informed the governor that
the prisoner would inevitably die in a brief
space of time if he were not allowed to
breathe the fresh air of the country.
Owing to the feeble condition of the in
valid no fear of his escape need be enter
tained, and the doctor concluded by saying
that he would take the prisoner for occa
sional drives in his own carriage, which
should only proceed at a walking pace,
and could be escorted by any soldiers the
governor thought necessary. That func
tionary, — never suspecting a doctor who
had such good wine, — gave his consent.
" M. de la Fayette, for his part, pre
tended to be extremely weak, and even
unable to walk, so he was carried to the
carriage, which never took him more than
a league from Olmutz, and always brought
him to the appointed spot when the drive
was finished. This went on for some time,
and the governor, feeling more secure,
gradually diminished the escort, and finally
reduced it to a single soldier.
" Meanwhile the cunning physician

2i6 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
bought two fine saddle horses, and ar
ranged to have them taken to a certain
spot at a certain hour on an appointed
day. Bollman also provided a couple of
pairs of pistols, and plenty of money.
When they arrived at the place arranged,
they jumped out of the carriage, and the
doctor with one hand presented a pistol
at the head of the astonished soldier, and
with the other offered him a purse of gold.
Then the horses appeared, and the two
fugitives sprang to the saddle and rode
off. After going some distance they sepa
rated. M. de la Fayette rode fifty miles
on the same horse, which at last dropped
dead, and he was imprudent enough to
stop to buy another. In Germany it is
the custom to fire a cannon when a pris
oner has escaped, and the peasants, being
therefore on the look-out for any suspected
person, arrested M. de la Fayette for the
sake of the reward they would get for his
capture, and took him back to Olmutz.
The doctor, who acted more circumspectly,
got away, and returned to America alone."
Such was the story told by my friend

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

217

La Colombe. When I afterwards returned
to Paris, I met M. de la Fayette, who said
to me with a laugh :
" Well! I also have been in a fortress,
and tried to make my escape."
" So I hear," I replied, " but you did
not manage it as well as I did, General."
Shortly afterwards I left the United
Sitates^^this time " for good " I think^
and landed at Hamburg.

2i8 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

CHAPTER VII.
Arrival at Hamburg — Departure for France — I become a
smuggler at Antwerp — Condition of France — My resi
dence in France — Departure for Trieste — Joseph la
Brosse, the banker — The Governors Junot, Bertrand,
Fouche (Duke of Otranto) — Gustavson, King of Sweden
— Jerome Bonaparte.
I believe I am not exaggerating when
I say that this city, and Altona, which is
only separated from it by a fine avenue of
trees, then contained seven or eight thou
sand French emigres.
Hamburg, being a neutral city, did an
immense business, and offered even more
opportunity than the United States for
the industry and activity of our French
fatftgrgSy^who were obliged to make a liv
ing somehow. Some wrote books, and
others sold them.
I met there a M. de P  , who had a
small capital of a hundred louis. He ex
changed money, and was obliged to trot

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 219
about the town like a messenger, exchang
ing ducats, piastres, sequins, and crowns,
according to the requirements of the per
sons he met, but he managed to make his
ten francs every day.
I also found there a young Frenchman,
who did not know mathematics, but man
aged to teach the Germans all the same.
As he spoke the language well, he went
every morning to a friend, a German naval
officer, to take a lesson, and then carried
his newly acquired information to his
pupils, who each paid him a mark. If a
pupil made any observation, the professor
refused to give an explanation, in order,
as he said, not to confuse the pupil's mind.
When his lesson was finished he received
his money, out of which he had to give ten
cents to the naval officer.
In fact the emigres busied themselves
to such an extent in every department of
commerce, that the Jews seemed likely at
one time to leave the field to them. One
Jew, who was a painter, revenged himself
by taking a likeness on the quiet of the
Frenchman he most disliked, — a certain

220 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
R  F  , I believe. He represented
him as sitting in one pan of a pair of scales,
whilst in the other were twenty Jews who
were unable to weigh him up. The carica
ture was sold in the print shops.
I had left my brother and his family
established at Lausanne, where they had
founded a house of business which prom
ised to extend and prosper. I learned in
a singular manner that his success had sur
passed all his hopes. At Hamburg I heard
some talk of a banker, a second " philoso
pher without knowing it," another M.
Vanderk in fact, who under the name of
Joseph la Brosse, had established a solid
and flourishing business at Trieste. A
draft of 100,000 florins drawn on him was
paid at sight. I soon found out that this
millionaire was no other than my brother.
The invasion of Switzerland by the French
had caused him to quit Lausanne, and he
had carried his Lares and Penates to Tri
este. For some years past he had made
that city the head-quarters of his business,
and his commercial transactions had in
creased to an enormous extent. I formed

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 22I
a project to go and visit my brother, but
I did not carry it into effect for some time,
for chance threw in my way an opportunity
of visiting Paris.
The circumstances under which this op
portunity arrived were amusing, and I
might say instructive. I have no compunc
tion in mentioning them, for it is not prob
able that there will ever be another emi
gration from France, and, if there should
be, it would be the citizens who had noth
ing who would rob the citizens who had
property — that is the invariable rule. We
of the old nobility would not be the suf
ferers, for, heaven knows, few indeed of
the fine castles, mansions, and fortunes,
have remained in the families of their origi
nal owners.
But, at any rate, if the so-called liberal
ism — which is very different from the old
Jacobinism, because it has the red cap in
its pocket instead of on its head — if liberal
ism, I say, should ever drive the wealth
out of France, I thought I should like to
know how it came back.
I did not look forward with much pleas-

222 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
ure to my visit to France, and had no fam
ily ties, for my relations had either been
murdered or driven out of the country, but
there was danger to be incurred by re
turning.
Nitimur in vetitum semper cupimusque negata.
I meant to preserve my incognito, and
hoped that my friends, — if I should meet
any, — would also keep it. This mystery,
with a spice of danger added, gave promise
that my days would not be dull, and be
sides I wanted to see France from behind
the scenes; — to view the carnival in action.
The Directoire was still at the Luxem
bourg, and on the walls, the coins, and at
the head of decrees, you read the words,
Republique Frangaise, and saw the fasces
and the cap of liberty. I had heard all
this, but I only half believed it, and, at all
events, the spectacle seemed worth wit
nessing, even at some risk.
To revisit France, if a chance occurred,
was a fixed resolve with me, and the chance
did occur. One morning while I was at
Hamburg, I received a letter, addressed to

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

223

me, coming from one of the departments
annexed to France, and containing an offi
cial intimation that the name of my friend,
the Chevalier de la Colombe, had been
struck off the list of proscribed emigrants.
I turned the letter over and over, and said
to myself, " Why, this is a permission to
bearer. My friend La Colombe cannot fail
sooner or later to hear in the United
States, through the newspapers, of the re
moval of his name. I will ask the French
authorities at Altona for a passport in his
name for Paris, and it is sure not to be re
fused." I presented myself before M. Dietrick,
the Resident of the Republic, " one and in
divisible." At the moment I arrived a
Gascon soldier of the body-guard was ap
plying for a passport, and was passing him
self off for a Swiss. The worthy fellow had
nothing against him but his accent.
" Yes, monsou le Resident," said the ap
plicant from the South, " I require a pass
port for France."
" And so you are a Swiss? " said the
Resident.

224 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
" A Swiss of Neuchatel, monsou le Resi
dent," replied the Gascon.
" Monsou le Resident " could not re
frain from saying, with a quiet smile,
" Since when was Neuchatel situated on
the Garonne? "
The imperturbable Gascon was not
taken aback, and without moving a muscle,
replied, " Ever since the Revolution, mon
sou le Resident."
The retort was unanswerable, and the
passport was issued. In my case, the ap
plication seemed only a natural conse
quence of the official document of which
I was the bearer, and I obtained the pass
port without any difficulty. I had bor
rowed my friend's name, certainly, but the
description in the passport referred to me,
and I set out on my journey in perfect se
curity. When I was about to leave, I reviewed
the state of my finances, and as I know
that what does not increase diminishes, I
exchanged a fair number of ducats for Eng
lish merchandise, which promised me a
good profit if I could only succeed in in-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

225

troducing it into French territory, — but
how that was to be done I had not cal
culated, and trusted to luck to help me
at the critical moment; audentes fortuna
juvat. I arrived at the gates of Antwerp. I
had with me in my carriage, perhaps I
should say in our carriage, for It belonged
to him as much as to me, — or rather it be
longed to neither of us, for it was a hired
conveyance, — I had with me as my travel
ling companion, an emigre whose name had
also been removed from the list of pro
scriptions. He also was returning to
France, but his papers were all in order.
M. de P  was a good, careful, prudent
man, much esteemed by all who knew him,
and by all who knew his daughter, for he
was the father of the good and beautiful
Madame de M  , who has the secret of
preserving her beauty, for on my word as
a man of honour, and a good judge, though
she was beautiful at twenty, she was yet
more beautiful twenty years later. I acted
as escort and protector to my companion,
and would not have suffered a hair on his
16

226 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
head to be touched, and he had plenty of
hairs on his head, for though he was middle-
aged he was marvellously well preserved,
— it runs in the family.
M. de P  had nothing to fear, but
I was not at all easy in my mind when we
drove up to the gates of Antwerp. My
merchandise, my papers, my name, my per
son, were all contraband. The carriage
stopped before the lodge of the customs
officer, the door was opened, and an officer
put his head in and asked the usual ques
tion. It was evening, and he carried a
lighted candle in his hand. I seized my
companion's arm and whispered to him,
" Leave everything to me; don't speak, and
above all don't laugh." Then having, on
the spur of the moment, devised the little
comedy I was about to play, I began my
part. " Ah, my dear Durand, how are you? "
I cried, stretching forth my hand in the
most friendly manner to the customs of
ficer, — whom I had never seen before. " So
they have sent you here now."
The man replied, as I had fully ex-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

227

pected he would, " Citizen, I don't know
you." With that I jumped out of the carriage,
and threw my arms round the neck of my
newly-found friend; the candle fell, the cus
toms officer swore and pushed me away,
and the inspector came out and asked what
was the matter.
" Lieutenant," I said, " I appeal to you.
Here is Durand, my old comrade, who
won't recognize his friend Bernard, though
he taught me the profession."
The inspector listened to what I had
to say, the other officers turned out of the
guard-house with torches, and the misun
derstanding was cleared up, — much to my
advantage. The inspector, — to whom I
had been careful to apply the title of lieu
tenant, though he was only a brigadier, —
was already disposed in my favour.
That I had been misled by a chance
resemblance, and that the customs officer
was not my old friend Durand, I was the
first to acknowledge, but the inspector and
all his assistants, — even the one I had bap
tized Durand, — were all very polite to me,

228 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
and attributed the mistake partly to ab-
sense of mind, partly to good fellowship.
Conversation became general, everyone
had something to say; — there were so
many posts along the immense frontier,
and such transfers and removals almost
every day, — and the new post was always
so far from the old one, — and a man never
knew what it was to have a home, — and,
we all agreed, the Revenue Department
was very badly managed.
" And now, citizens," I said at last,
in the bravest possible manner, " duty
must be done, and it is not a customs officer
who will refuse to obey the laws of the
Republic. Lieutenant, will you please
search my trunk? Here is the key."
The " lieutenant " smiled, the others
all cried in chorus, " What! search a com
rade's box! " I took my leave of them all,
put the key back in my pocket, and got
into the carriage again. All wished me a
good journey and a short stay in my new
quarters, for I fancy, that in order to make
them pity me the more, I had mentioned
Soubise or Marennes as my destination.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

229

Good M. de P  , who had remained
in the carriage, still trembled for me.
When we had passed the barrier, I laughed
and said, " That is the way to smuggle.
I could not get out of it as Marshal Saxe
did, but you will agree that I managed it
pretty well." And thereupon I told him
the story of what happened to the con
queror of Fontenoy at the gates of some
Flemish town.
Marshal Saxe was returning into
France after the campaign of 1745. At
the gates of some city on the French fron
tier, a customs officer presented himself
at the door of the carriage, and said, " Have
you anything contrary to the orders of
the King, Marshal? "
"No, Monsieur."
" But what is that? " asked the officer,
pointing to an immense barrel of tobacco
on which the marshal's feet were resting,
and which took up all the front part of the
carriage. " That, Monsieur," replied the marshal
calmly, " is my tobacco box."
" Oh, indeed!" said the official.. " Well,

230

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

I suppose it is but right that a very great
general should have a tobacco box in pro
portion," and he closed the door respect
fully. Success begets confidence, and confi
dence begets fresh successes, and thus one
arrives at high position, fortune, and hon
ours, — but I only wanted to arrive at
Paris. There was, however, one more for
mality to fulfil, — the passport issued at
Hamburg, must be vise by the authorities
of Antwerp. For some months past the
chief official there had been called a Pre
fect, — the post had been newly created by
the ruler, who, under the title of First
Consul, was sole master in France, though
there were professedly three persons at the
head of the so-called Republic. France
was still nominally a Republic, and indi
viduals who ere long would be called Sire,
Monseigneur, Duke, Baron, or Excel
lency, were still simple citizens.
I went to the Prefecture of Antwerp,
and presented myself before the chief mag
istrate of the department. I was announced
as M. de la Colombe.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

231

" Yes, Citizen Prefect, I am M. de la
Colombe, an emigre raye, from Hamburg,
and I want my passport vise in order to
return to France."
"M. de la Colombe," said the prefect, in
a marked manner, that I ought to have
noticed, and looking at me in a droll sort
of way. " Please to take a chair, M. de la
Colombe. Have I the honour of addressing
M. de la Colombe? It is not long since M.
de la Colombe left Hamburg. You only re
ceived the intimation of the removal of
your name from the list a few days ago, I
suppose, M. de la Colombe. We are de
lighted, M. de la Colombe, to be able to
provide French emigres with the means of
returning to their mother country. M. de
la Colombe wants his passport vise for Paris.
I hope M. de la Colombe will not meet with
any unpleasantness during his stay in the
capital. I am glad to have had the honour
of making your acquaintance, M. de la
Colombe. I have the honour to wish you
a pleasant and prosperous journey, M. de
la Colombe." It was "M. de la Colombe " all the time.

232

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

" The prefect is extremely polite," I said
to myself, "but is he afraid that people
will forget their own names? " Some time
afterwards, however, I learned that the
Prefect of Antwerp was the stranger who
had forwarded to me at Hamburg, —
through a third person, — the notice of the
removal of the name of La Colombe, —
with whom he had formerly been very in
timate. Then I had the key to the enigma,
and understood his kindness, discretion,
and genial banter, for instead of signing
the vise to my passport, he could have
told me openly that I was an impostor,
and I should have had no right to com
plain. I ought to mention, as a matter of his
torical accuracy, that I am not quite sure,
at this length of time, whether it was the
prefect or the secretary-general with whom
I had to do, but at this period there were
many instances besides mine, in which func
tionaries did all they could to modify the
rigours of the Osselin law. A certain great
personage, whom I will not name, may
perhaps remember this incident, which is

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 233
greatly to his honour. An emigre applied
to him, in the name of Bouchard. " I can
do nothing for Citizen Bouchard," was the
reply, " but I will do all in my power for
M. de Montmorenci."
Anyhow, there I was in France, and
when I arrived in Paris, I was as much
under the shelter of the law as any in
habitant who had never quitted the coun
try, or meddled in political events.
" His native land is dear to each true heart !
With what delight do I behold this spot."
That is what nearly everyone feels, and
nearly everyone says, — from Tancred to
Potaveri, from the Frenchman to the Hot
tentot; — but I said nothing of the kind.
The ruling inclination in me, — it has
been a slight fault of mine ever since I was
twenty years of age, — is to indulge in a
private chuckle, and so I admire very little,
and I rarely blame, and though I do not
laugh outright, I laugh in my beard, for
I have seen so much that I have learned
to estimate events at their proper value,
and I praise no celebrity till after he is

234

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

dead; — I have made so many mistakes in
paying my tribute of admiration to a liv
ing celebrity. This disposition made me
regard France as a very absurd set of magic
lantern slides. When I had been forty-
eight hours in Paris, it seemed to me that
of all the persons I recognized, the pretty
women had grown old, and the men had
changed. I had always prided myself on the pos
session of a well-shaped leg, and had always
been in favour of knee breeches and stock
ings, and when I saw everyone wearing
trousers, I said to myself, " Has the Revo
lution made all the young men bow-
legged? " Similarly when I saw double
or single eye-glasses on the noses of young
men of twenty, I said, " This unlucky
Revolution has made them all short
sighted." I know that, as a general rule,
the public cannot see beyond its nose, but
when I noticed that it was merely a freak
of fashion and that the young men got
themselves up as carefully as Antinous, I
thought perhaps they wore eye-glasses in
order to better resemble the favourite of

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

235

Adrian, and I laughed at those historians
who pretend that glasses are a modern in
vention. I saw pass along the Boulevards two
young men, dressed in the very height of
fashion, mounted on fine horses, and trot
ting at a rate which made everyone turn
to look at them. A middle-aged man, who
was leaning on his cane, watching them,
cried as they passed him, — in the tone
which an uncle or a father would have used
— "Very pretty indeed, — but the debts!"
They both laughed, and so did I. I knew
them, and the reproof was not undeserved,
as regards one of them at least.
Another time I saw in a fine carriage,
— and there were not many such at Paris
at that time, — a face that I recognized by
its ineptitude. He was a virtuoso whom I
remembered as making his debut at a con
cert, and with the greatest possible suc
cess, when lie was a beardless boy. I had
not forgotten that he said to me, as we
came out, " Did I not play like an angel? "
I must confess that he must have had some
talent in his fingers, for this young fool

236 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
became a millionaire in six months, and has
managed to keep his money; so if he was
a fool he was no ass, — but it is not worth
while to mention his name.
As for me, I had at once, as a pre
cautionary measure, taken up my residence
in the quietest quarter of the city I could
find, that is to say in the Rue St. Louis in
the Marais. I had not been a-week-inJEaEis,
— trying the ground to make sure it was
safe, — when I unexpectedly encountered
an old acquaintance. The meeting made
me uneasy at first, but in the end was
most fortunate and useful for me. I re
member (though now with pleasure and
gratitude) that my first feeling at this
encounter was one of fear. It was ex
actly like the meeting between Almaviva
and the Barber of Seville. The good fel
low, — whom I took for something quite
different, — scanned me so closely, that I
said to myself, " I have seen him some
where." " I am not mistaken," he said, " it is
you, M. le Chevalier."
"Ah, it is you, d'O  ," I answered

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

237

with a little more confidence, " and what
are you doing at Paris." When I left in
'91 he was proprietor of a cafe at the Petit
Carreau. D'O  had been brought up by my
grandmother and my uncle, the President.
He was a tall, good-looking man, with a
frank open face, and, when I knew him,
very active, strong, and exceedingly bold,
though he carried no weapons, offensive
or defensive, except a little stick about a
foot and a half long, and no thicker than a
switch. He looked a little older, but other
wise was externally very much as I had
known him. However, I guessed from his
character, that he was not likely to have
remained neutral during the Revolution
ary troubles, and I was doubtful of what
he might have become during the ten years
which had elapsed since I had lost sight of
him. All the difference between us and
the characters in Beaumarchais' play was,
that I was not a grandee of Spain, that we
were on the pavement of Paris, and that
honest d'O  was, has always been, and
is still, the best and worthiest of men; —

238 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
otherwise his story greatly resembled that
of Figaro. " Yes," he said to me, " I was, when
you left France, proprietor of a cafe. I
became what is called ofRcier de paix, and
had to guard the Tuileries. You may
guess that I showed our unfortunate King
and his august family every mark of de
votion, and there was no advice likely to
be useful for their safety or repose that I
failed to give them. They did me the
honour to receive me, and confide in me as
a servant in whom they could trust. After
the terrible day of the 10th of August, I
was arrested, and brought to trial. I
pleaded my own cause, I defended my head
with courage and eloquence, and as I had
the advantage of not being noble, but be
longing to the people, they were forced
to forgive me for having done my duty,
and I was acquitted. I wore the livery of
the Revolution, but nevertheless I carried
in my heart a love of the Bourbons, and of
all honest people. I have saved as many
as I could from the scaffold ; many know it,
but many others do not suspect it, for I

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 239
never told them, fearing lest their indis
creet gratitude might compromise me and
prevent me from serving others. I was
adroit, and feared nothing, though I rarely
carried any weapon except the little
' Jacob's staff ' you see here — sometimes
I had a pair of pistols in my pockets,
but I never had occasion to use them;
and I was so honest that they gave
me carle blanche for my expenses and
paid my accounts without examining
them. " The Committee of Public Safety often
sent me on missions, with powers exceed
ing even those of the Representatives of
the people themselves, and thus I was able
to do good service by making away with
documents which would have destroyed
whole families. I often took away papers,
when I was sure that the Committee knew
nothing of the affairs to which they re
lated, and it was in this way that I saved
the lives of the Comte and Comtesse de
T  , who are related to your family. Ah,
why was I not able to save your unfor
tunate uncle? but I did not know what

240

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

danger he was in, and the scoundrels were
too quick for me.
" At last I was put in prison myself, but
I got out again, and was put in again, —
according as the factions which were dis
puting for power gained or lost, — every
three months; and then the 9th Thermidor
arrived. The accomplices of Robespierre
themselves felt that divine vengeance of
which they had been the instruments.
Thus, sometimes in favour, and sometimes
in prison, but superior to fortune in either
case, praised by some, blamed by others,
taking advantage of fair weather, and car
ing little for the bad, and thwarting the
wicked, I, with all my boldness and activ
ity have come at last to be commissary of
police in a quarter where everybody goes
to bed at nine o'clock, — and am ready to
serve you in any way that you may be
pleased to command.
" Finally I was transported, but in very
good company. It was a trick of Fouche,
who wanted to be even with me, and I
could do nothing. I made the voyage with
Pichegru, and a lot of others, but they

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

241

were all bewildered and lost their heads,
for what use are great statesmen, famous
warriors, and distinguished personages
when you remove them from their famil
iar surroundings. " It was I who found the boat and pre
pared the flight; and brought six besides
myself safe and sound to Surinam. I re
membered you, Chevalier, and do you
know that it is no easier to get away from
Cayenne than it is from Pierre-en-Cize;
there are difficulties in both cases. At any
rate I came back from Cayenne, and though
I have been buffeted about by adversity,
the wind is in my favour now, and ' I am
ready to serve you in any way you may
please to command,' as the hero of Beau-
marchais' play says, — though, by the way,
he had not been through so much as I
have. I am as well known as Barabbas,
and I know everybody, good or bad.
Speak, you have but to command."
The meeting, though absurd, was very
useful for me. Through my friend d'O  ,
I discovered that I was not on the list of
emigres. There had been some intention
17

242

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

of putting my name down, but they had
not my Christian names properly, one of
them had been forgotten, and my identity
was not exact. Such was the ridiculous
state of the law at that time, — a letter
killed or saved a man, — but when they did
have your name properly you were put
down as a supposed emigre, even if you had
been in prison all the time since 1792.
When I found that I was not on the
list, I was not satisfied with my good luck,
and was bold enough to demand an ac
count of property. But my case remained
unsettled, perhaps because I had selected
for my attorney Jacques Deioges. I passed
the 3rd Nivose quietly enough, I only
heard the report of the explosion in the
Rue Saint Nicaise, and I was not in the
secret. My friend d'O  assured me that
Fouche would visit on the red caps all
the wrath of Jupiter, the First Consul. But
I saw taken to the Temple only a few days
later, some persons who were certainly not
" reds " but " whites," and I came to the
conclusion that the air of Paris was not
good for me, and I might find a purer

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

243

and better atmosphere. I was taken with
the reverse of homesickness, and felt as
much desire to get out of the country as
I had formerly done to get into it.
I knew very well that, unless I went
to England, I should, out of France, be
still under the same rule, visible or invisi
ble, but the Temple, Vincennes, and the
plain of Grenelle, robbed Paris of all its
charms. The occupant of the Tuileries had
sworn that the sun should not set on his
dominions, and that he would everywhere
do as he liked, but it struck me that the
rays of his sun would not burn me so much
if I were at a distance.
I said to myself, "Italiam! Italiam! " for
I remembered that on the Adriatic Sea I
had a second home, where I should meet
a fraternal welcome, for my elder brother,
the head of the family, had there gathered
together the household gods.
D'O  had procured for me, in case
of accidents, passports made out in a false
name, but with my correct description, and
it was well for me that I used them at the
right moment. The day of my departure,

244

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

poor d'O  , my political barometer, re
ceived, as a kind attention from Fouche,
an "invitation" to retire to M  and
remain there until further orders. That
only made me set off the faster towards
Trieste, and as straight as I could go. I
never looked behind me till I had passed
the frontier of my native land, where, under
the rule of the benign Bonaparte, no one
was ever sure of sleeping in his bed at
night. The word " prison " had always made
me prick up my ears like a hare, and I was
singularly well-instructed in the topogra
phy of France, as regards the dungeons.
I wished that the angels could have carried
the diligence, as they did the house of the
Virgin from Capernaum to Loretto, for I
felt quite a nightmare when I saw on my
left the castle of Joux, where M. de Suzan-
net then was, and, as we skirted the Doubs,
the citadel of Besancon above my head
to the left. I breathed more freely when,
entering Lyon by the faubourg of Vaise,
I noticed that Pierre-en-Cize was pulled
down, and nobody else could be put there,

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 245
— at least until it was rebuilt, — and I said
to myself, " Well, it is certain that poor
M. de L  , who wanted so much to es
cape, is no longer there."
And so with my heart full of kindly
thoughts, I passed, — either that day or the
next, — the bridge of Beauvoism, and so
from town to town, traversed the Kingdom
of Italy, and the former Republic of Venice,
where I did not see the Lion of St. Mark,
because I had left it at Paris in front of
the Invalides. I did not seek the Bucen-
taur, but a little felucca, and with my usual
good luck, found one all ready to sail for
Trieste. The felucca received me and my
baggage, and the sea which the Doge of
Venice weds every year, did not seem to
notice the light weight I laid on its back,
and in due time I landed safely at that city
which for some time past had been known
as the capital of the Illyrian provinces, and,
— speaking without prejudice, — I found
the air there better.
I saw at once that I was not mistaken
in supposing that I should be safe there.
The country had been but recently an-

246 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
nexed, and the people had just submitted
themselves. The two-legged mules still
carried their burden, though the pack was
marked with another letter, and it was
politic not to make the new load heavier
than the old one. Trieste was the most
advanced outpost of the French Republic,
and it was difficult to believe it would be
held for a long term. The adventurer who
governed France spent his years in play
ing at war, and risked all for all in each
battle. Placed thus at the top of the gulf, I
had in front of me the Adriatic Sea, which
stretched like a long street between the
former Republic of Venice, the former
Papal States, and the former Kingdom of
the Two Sicilies, — for the time being. Be
hind me on the north I had the land of the
Pandours of Trenk, the Croats of the cele
brated Count Serin, of the fortress of
Zigeth, semi-savages, whose only claim to
civilization was their fidelity to the Rom-
ische Kaiser, and the paternal house of
Austria. Peace between such neighbours
only depended on circumstances.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

247

On the left, in Epirus and Albania, and
as far as Ragusa, little trust could be
placed in the natives, and behind these
strange French citizens were the Pachas
of Trawnik, Nicopolis, Widin, and Janina,
who are accustomed to keep all their
goods, from their cloaks to their money,
in cypress wood coffers, which are not
fastened to the wall. An uncertainty as
to what to-morrow may bring forth is a
natural condition of the lives of these Turk
ish potentates, who sat day after day smok
ing their pipes at no great distance from
us. They afforded me a subject for com
parison with the precarious condition of
the French in the land to which I had
come to seek a stone whereon to rest my
head. The flag of France was flying every
where, and I saw the tricolour of the Re
public, One and Indivisible, instead of the
yellow and black flag with the Austrian
Eagle, but the occupation was very recent,
and our power seemed to me like a house
of cards, liable to be blown down by the
first ill wind, — though whether it would

248 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
blow from the north or the south, I could
not guess.
Trieste, which is situated at the end
of the gulf which bears its name, is built
in the form of an amphitheatre on the side
of a hill, the foot of which is washed by the
sea. A citadel has been constructed on the
summit of this hill, and, from its position,
commands all the city, which is divided
into an upper and a lower town. My
brother's house was in the lower part of
Trieste, near the port. The Empress Maria
Theresa transformed Trieste, which before
that was merely a harbour, into a com
mercial city, the chief, in fact the only,
maritime establishment of the Austrian
Empire. From 1750, Trieste had been increasing
in size and wealth. In 1767, an Insurance
Company, with a capital of 300,000 florins
was founded there; and in 1770 it con
tained thirty large houses of business. At
the period of which I am writing, Trieste
had arrived at its highest degree of pros
perity. The business which my brother had

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

249

founded, and which he conducted so hon
ourably and with such success, was now
one of the first firms in Europe. He had
gathered round him many of the emigres,
former fellow officers of the Dauphine regi
ment, and had made them associates with
him in his business.
I arrived in time to witness an incident
which proved in what consideration my
brother was held, on account of his up
right conduct.
But a short time before, a French army
had presented itself before Trieste, and the
city, being incapable of any resistance, sur
rendered. The general laid a heavy tax upon the
city, and a great part of this fell upon the
merchants. They prepared to pay it, and
Joseph la Brosse put his own name down
at the head of the list for a large amount.
But the conquerors had heard that he was
a French emigre, and knew how he had
regained his fortune and the noble use
that he made of it, and the French general,
being willing to oblige a compatriot who
had so bravely struggled against adversity,

250

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

declared Joseph la Brosse should be ex
empt from the tax, and pay nothing. My
brother asked if his share was to be de
ducted from the total, and received the
reply that though he was personally ex
empted from paying, no diminution would
be made in the sum demanded, but his
share would have to be contributed by the
other merchants of Trieste. My brother
was noble and disinterested enough to
reply that he had received the hospitality
of Trieste, and all the merchants of the
city were his comrades and friends, and
that as he had shared with them in good
luck, it was only fair that he should be
allied with them in their misfortune.
" But," he said to General S  , " as
you wish to show me a kindness, there is
something you can do for me. Diminish
the number of soldiers who are lodged in
my warehouses, for I have noticed that
bales of merchandise do not seem to agree
with sabres and moustaches."
The general laughed, and removed
many of the soldiers who were billeted on
my brother.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

251

He easily recouped himself, however,
for his share in the contribution levied on
Trieste, for he made a contract with the
general for supplying the army with all
that it needed, charging only a small com
mission. The contract was duly carried
out to the satisfaction of both parties.
My brother had a town house in Tri
este, where he carried on his business as
a banker and merchant, and he had also
a country house, or as it might more prop
erly be called, an estate, with a handsome
residence to match. His time was thus
always occupied either by agriculture or
commerce, and each hour of the day had
its useful and praiseworthy employment.
The management of the internal arrange
ments belonged to my sister-in-law, but
she had a hand in foreign affairs also, man
aged the correspondence in the absence of
her husband, and often gave sound advice
on business affairs connected with the firm
of Joseph la Brosse & Co.
The Continental blockade greatly as
sisted my brother's speculations. The Le
vant cottons could no longer come by sea,

252

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

and had to be brought overland, and he
had much to do with the transport, and
brought a great part of the best cotton
into Europe. He thus became acquainted
with some of the chief bankers of Paris.
In connection with this I will relate an
anecdote showing a comic contrast be
tween two different kinds of men.
I was alone with my brother in Paris,
whither he had returned to see if the waters
of the political deluge had really retired
from France, and if he could take back,
like the dove, a green leaf to his family,
who had remained in the ark of safety at
Trieste. A confrere, one of the leading commer
cial men in Paris, and between whom and
my brother there existed a mutual esteem
and friendship, came to congratulate him
on his arrival. He had exalted notions of
the dignity of commerce, and in the course
of conversation, he said,
" You must own, Monsieur, that you
have led quite a different life since you
took to business. Now, your signature is
worth a hundred thousand crowns, from

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 253
one end of Europe to the other, and you
are known everywhere as Joseph la Brosse.
Is not that better than being called the
Comte de Pontgibaud? At the best you
would have been no better off than a couple
of thousand others, whilst to-day  "
The door opened and the Archbishop
of Rouen entered. He embraced my
brother, and said,
" So, my dear Pontgibaud, you have at
last come back to us. Well, of course, you
will stop with us. Leave behind your
counter, and your borrowed name of
Joseph la Brosse, and again resume your
place as our old friend, Comte de Pontgi
baud." You may guess how laughable this con
trast sounded, especially to my brother,
who did not say a word. It is nevertheless
true, that at the time of the Continental
blockade, my brother, who was previously
a millionaire, possessed a fortune much
greater than he had possessed, or ever
could have possessed, in France. He was
a merchant, banker, and landed proprietor,
for he had, near Trieste, a fine house with

254

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

plenty of land. The astute merchant of
the city was, in the country, an able agri
culturist, for throughout his life he had a
taste for farming. He combined theory
with practice, and did not, like " parlour
farmers," content himself with inventing
useless systems, but tried experiments
which nearly always succeeded.
Being of an observant turn of mind, he
found something to do at all hours and
in all weathers, when he was on his estate.
If rain fell in torrents we would all make
for the house, but he would go out again
in the heaviest shower to study the direc
tion that the water took in different places,
and utilize his knowledge in irrigating, or
draining, his land. Fortune was bound to
come to one who sought her by all roads.
His relations with all sorts of people,
as a commercial notability, and more re
cently as a banker, had rendered his name
known throughout Europe. As for me,
I had sunk from an actor to become a
spectator. My dear brother, the most sen
sible, calmest, and most virtuous of men,
would have been glad to do for me what

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

255

he had done for many others, if I had been
obliged to have recourse to him. His
genius, — for so I might call it, — could not
be compared to his character, which was
one of the most noble I have ever known.
In short, his wisdom and intelligence were
only equalled by his kindness, his probity,
his humanity, and complaisance, and it
might be well said of him,
"Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum
puto." But it is true that the services he ren
dered other people often turned to his own
profit, without any intention on his part.
Accidents even conspired to increase not
only his fortune and reputation, but the
esteem, good will, and gratitude which all
felt towards him. The justice that was
done to his character, the confidence that
was shown in him, the protection and shel
ter that many came to ask of him, are sat
isfactory proofs that the human species
does not wholly consist of wolves and
sheep, torturers and their victims, tyrants
and oppressed; an example to the contrary
was to be found every day at Trieste, where

256 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
I have often watched with my own eyes,
as in a magic lantern, all the most dra
matic personages of Continental Europe
pass one after the other.
Trieste became a refuge where all the
political cripples, of whatever rank they
were, discrowned kings and their ministers,
came to seek asylum, and found it; my
brother received them all under his hos
pitable roof.
For several years there was an almost
daily succession of celebrated refugees, of
all sorts and conditions. My brother was
all things to all men, and was generally
looked upon as the friend of humanity. He
resembled Captain Cook, who sailed be
tween two hostile fleets of savages, who
were preparing to attack each other, and
was saluted by both sides. His conduct
at Trieste reminded me of that rich and
pious citizen of Agrigentum who, it was
said, sat at the gates of the city of Agrigen
tum in order to be the first to offer hos
pitality to the travellers who arrived. He
imitated Gellias without knowing it, and
his kindness and delicacy were so much

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

257

appreciated that all strangers of distinc
tion were either sent or came to him. In
fact, Joseph la Brosse of Trieste exactly
resembled the colossal figure of St. Chris
topher, which is put at the door of some
churches in order that it may be seen afar
off, and in accordance with the popular
belief expressed in the monkish Latin
proverb, Christophorum videas postea tutus
eas. But it is doubtful whether even the
great St. Christopher did as much good
as my brother was able to do.
Not long after my arrival, General
Junot was named " Captain General and
Governor of the Illyrian Provinces." He
had great confidence in my brother, and
treated him with consideration and regard,
but the sun of Portugal had had a bad
effect on the head of this sabreur, who nat
urally was neither sober nor prudent.
Though he held a relatively high position
in the Empire, General Junot compromised
his prospects by giving daily examples of
extravagant and absurd conduct. One day
when reviewing the troops, he drove in
front of the soldiers in a carriage with four
18

258

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

horses, and as he passed along he struck
the men with his whip, crying at the same
time, "Fall in line! Fall in line!" He
committed many other absurdities, and at
last orders arrived at Trieste from the
Viceroy that he was to be seized and sent
back to Paris. The instructions were
bound to be obeyed, but the task was not
an easy one. Finally a corn sack was
thrown over his head, and he was tied up
like a bale of tobacco, put in his own car
riage, and packed off to Paris.
At his departure, his tradespeople and
other creditors surrounded his house, and
refused to allow his baggage to be removed
till their claims were satisfied. My brother,
seeing a large crowd at the door squab
bling over the cases and trunks, inquired
the cause of the disturbance. He was told
that the general's property was detained
for debts amounting to two thousand
crowns. My brother paid all claims upon
the spot, without waiting for any instruc
tions, and released the goods, which duly
arrived safely in Paris. The cases con
tained much valuable property, and the

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

259

diamond stars and orders which had been
presented to the general. The Duchesse
d'Abrantes wrote a letter of thanks to my
brother, and added that her first care
should be to repay the debt. In fact, as
soon as her husband's affairs were settled,
a draft for 2000 crowns was sent to Trieste,
in repayment of the sum which had been
so obligingly advanced.
General Bertrand succeeded General
Junot as Governor-General of Illyria and
the adjacent provinces.* He was honest,
just, liberal, and unselfish. He wished to
make his new subjects love the rule of his
master, — to whom he was himself sincere
ly attached. He rendered the imperial
yoke as light as possible; no small task,
as the people could remember still the pa
ternal government of the House of Aus
tria, but at least General Bertrand was
both just and generous. In order that his
charity might not be imposed on, he
charged my brother, who had the reputa-
* This is an error on the part of the author ; Bertrand
preceded Junot. ed.

26o A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
tion of being a strictly honest man, to dis
tribute the money, etc., given to the poor
and needy, and to make all inquiries about
the applicants for relief, and thus it hap
pened that Joseph la Brosse, a French
emigre, found himself accidentally acting
as an officer of that Emperor of whom his
subordinates used to say, " Our master
wishes us to shear his sheep, but not flay
them." This noble general, who was called else
where, had for a more or less immediate
successor a man of quite a different stamp,
the celebrated Fouche, Duke of Otranto, —
another personage whom Joseph la Brosse
saved from misfortune.
Bonaparte lost all the ground he had
gained, and as his armies were driven back
towards France, all the legations packed
their papers into wagons and returned to
Paris. The Austrians in their turn took
the offensive as the French retired before
them. The French still occupied Trieste,
though the port was blockaded, and on all
the heights which commanded the town
were Austrian flags, and batteries of artil-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 26 1
lery ready to open fire, if any resistance
were shown. The notorious Due d'Otrante,
shut up like a wolf in a sheep-fold, was in
the greatest trouble.
I was present when he came and begged
my brother to save him and his children.
Joseph la Brosse was quite a refuge of the
wicked, and even Fouche did not have to
appeal in vain. He soothed and comforted
his visitor, and promised not only to save
him but to send after him all his property
which he was ready to abandon. The
former priest of the Oratory was trans
formed into a soldier, mounted on a horse
amongst fifty gendarmes, and boldly passed
through the Austrian lines without being
noticed. Thus was the Due d'Otrante taken out
of danger by Joseph la Brosse, and got
away safe and unhurt, and the Dauphin
granted a safeguard to one of the worst
scoundrels known to history.*
During this political crisis,, my brother
went from Trieste, which was still occu-
* See Note R.

262 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
pied by the French, to the Austrian camp,
and from the Austrian camp to Trieste, as
an emissary in the confidence of both par
ties. His country house and property were
always respected, and regarded indeed as
neutral ground.
Fouche had hardly left when Count
Gottorp, the ex-king of Sweden, descend
ed, or rather ascended, — for the Prince
lived on the second floor, — at the house
of Joseph la Brosse.
It could not be said of this monarch at
least, that he had no ancestors, and had not
been brought up in the Tyrian purple and
the royal ermine; he was no Lithuanian
gentleman promoted to be King of Poland
by the favour of a Muscovite arch-duchess.
I had seen, face to face, one kind of sover
eign, — a President of the United States, —
but it needed another Revolution in an
other country to bring before my eyes the
spectacle of a legitimate " King by the
Grace of God " in the house of a simple
citizen. Thrones were slippery at the be
ginning of the Nineteenth Century, and
hereditary kings were no better off than

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 263
those whom chance had presented with a
sceptre. At any rate the royal descendant of
Gustavus Adolphus and Charles XII, the
son and successor of that Gustavus III who
was preparing to lead the chivalry of Eu
rope against French Jacobinism at the mo
ment when he was so treacherously mur
dered by one of his own officers and sub
jects, was now our guest at Trieste, and
living on the second floor in the same house
with us. His generals had turned traitors,
and dethroned him, and he was now trav
elling about Europe under the name of
Count Gottorp.
He frequently came down to see us and
would converse without any ceremony, but
he always seemed to me to prefer the com
pany of my brother and my sister-in-law,
who never forgot that he had been King
of Sweden, though he appeared to forget
it himself and to wish that it should be for
gotten. My imperturbable sister-in-law,
though she joined in the conversation with
good-sense and modesty, never neglected,
on his account, to see to her household,

264

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

or the business of the firm. The prince
talked freely on all subjects, and showed
some learning and a good deal of " super
ficial knowledge " — but he was a volcano
in a state of calm.
His opinions upon different persons
were in marked contrast to what, — accord
ing to general belief, — they were expected
to be. Thus, he said of M. Fersen, " His
zeal did me a great deal of harm; " and of
the Duke of Sudermania his uncle, who be
came Charles XIII, " I am under the great
est obligations to him."
Amongst the singularities which ren
dered his private life so strange, I remarked
the following traits. He always had three
courses brought to table for his dinner,
but he would lock up one of them in his
bureau to serve for his supper.
Beggars in Trieste go from house to
house and knock at the doors. The King
always had a pocketful of money for them,
and as soon as he heard a beggar knock he
would run downstairs from the second
floor to bestow alms upon the mendicant.
Indeed he gave very little trouble to the

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 265
few servants he had, doing much for him
self even in his rooms, like Charles XII
when he was at Bender.
However, his ideas were, in general,
sound and sure enough on all subjects, —
with one exception. He had one bugbear;
and if, unfortunately, the conversation re
minded him of the violence which Generals
Klingsporr, Adelscreutz, and his Chamber
lain, Silvespare, had shown towards him
in his own palace, — or of his imprisonment,
with his family, in the fortress of Drott-
ningholm, and the act of abdication which
he was forced to sign in June, 1809, — his
feelings would carry him away, and his
head, — but, stop! it was a crowned head,
and, whatever I recollect, I must not for
get that.
I remember also that he wished to make
a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. When he was
on board the ship that he had chartered to
convey him to the Holy Land, my brother
sent his son, — my nephew, — with some
cases of liqueurs, some tea, chocolate, etc.,
as a farewell gift and token of respect.
The prince did the young man the honour

266 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
to ask him to lunch, but he secretly gave
orders to have the anchor weighed, and
when the lunch was over, my nephew found
that the vessel was sailing along, and that
Trieste was out of sight. Finding that the
King of Sweden wanted to make him a
pilgrim in spite of himself, he protested
energetically against the abduction, and
with a good deal of trouble obtained
permission to be put on shore. His ob
ject in carrying off the young man, was,
apparently, an idea that travel helped
greatly to form the mind. Some triv
ial circumstance, however, brought the
prince back again a very short time after
wards.* It was decreed that all sorts of royal
ties, the real article and the imitation,
should meet at the house of Joseph la
Brosse. While the King of Sweden was
lodging with us, Jerome, otherwise known
as the King of Westphalia, arrived. I
thought that the Carnival of Venice had
been transported to Trieste, at the sight
* See Note S.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 267
of this second King Theodore, more of a
Corsican even than his ancestors.
My brother's appearance was so simple,
his face was so calm, and his bearing so
much in harmony with figures, and book
keeping by double entry, that on seeing
him at his desk, you would have sworn
that he had been brought up to the busi
ness all his life. He was quietly working
one morning, when a young man in a frock
coat buttoned up to his chin, entered, and
asked if that was the house of the banker,
Joseph la Brosse. My brother inclined his
head slightly, and looked at the stranger
with Teutonic unconcern. The young man
took out of his pocket-book a draft for a
large sum, on the firm of Joesph la Brosse.
My brother quickly noticed that the
stranger had a pocketful of these docu
ments, and the unknown, not caring to
preserve his incognito any longer, stated
that he was the King of Westphalia, and
undoing his coat displayed a whole row
of orders, the indubitable signs of the
forced attentions which all the monarchs
of Europe were compelled to pay to all

268 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
those who bore the name of Bonaparte.
Joseph la Brosse did not move a bit faster
or slower, and did not say a word the
more, in spite of the dazzling display of a
complete assortment of stars, eagles, lions,
elephants, and what-not, stuck over the
pectoral region of the former King Jerome,
but he sent to inform the King of Sweden
that His Majesty the King of Westphalia
was in the house, asking if he wished to
see him.*
"The King of the second story," re
plied the prince, " is not anxious to meet
the King of the ground floor, but the
Queen is my cousin, and if she is in Trieste
I should be very glad to see her."
After such august personages have fig
ured in my recollections, I do not care to
continue any longer.
The year 1814 arrived, when must per
ish " that man of fate whom God had ap
pointed to punish the human race and tor
ture the world. The justice of God had
chosen this man to be the minister of its
* See Note T.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 269
vengeance. He existed to work out the
designs of Providence. He thought that
he was actuated by his own wishes and pas
sions, and he was really executing the de
crees of heaven. Before he fell he had time
to ruin peoples and nations, to set fire to
the four corners of the earth, to spoil the
present and the future by the evils which
he did, and by the examples which he
left." How could Balzac, who died in 1655,
write that about Cromwell? He certainly
foresaw the existence of Napoleon the
Great, and, — without excepting Bonaparte
himself, — it may be said that he was the
only person in France or Europe to show
that foresight. But my quotation is only
inserted to draw attention to a little-known
and singular fact in history, for from the
great political giant of the Nineteenth
Century I have personally received neither
benefit nor injury.
The year 1814 came, and with it the
restoration of the legitimate monarchy
nTave called this restoration (miraculous,
and I blessed it with all my heart^JwiTK all

270 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
my soul, and with all my strength, — but,
alas, since 181 4, I can remember, without
any great effort of memory, that I have
seen twq__restorationsT and, — but here I
wUnajjr_dojffin_mypen.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.

271

Note A, page i.
The opening passage of the book is the
only one which it has been found necessary to
change. It runs in the original as follows: —
" Je me souviens d'avoir lu qu'en 1637 la
reine Anne d'Autriche habitait a Paris: le roi
Louis XIII retournant de Vincennes a Saint
Germain fut surpris par un violent orage, et
coucha aux Tuileries; Louis-le-Grand, naquit
le 5 Septembre, 1638. En lisant dans l'histoire
de France et cette remarque et ce rapproche
ment, je me suis toujours rappele, mais jamais
sans rire, que feu mon pere, qui avait des pre
ventions contre moi, m'a dit plus d'une fois;
" Monsieur, vous ne seriez pas la, si telle nuit,
telle annee, je n'avais pas trouve des puces
dans mon lit." Le lit conjugal fut naturelle-
ment et legitimement le refuge de monsieur
mon pere: je suis devenu, le plus honnetement
du monde, l'effet de cette cause, et je suis ne
sous les auspices des puces, le 21 avril, 1758,
etc."

272

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

It may here be remarked that the Cheva
lier, though he gives the date of his birth cor
rectly, has made a mistake of a year, either in
the date of his imprisonment or in the time he
was at Pierre-en-Cize. As La Fayette was al
ready in America when Pontgibaud joined
him, either the lettre de cachet must be post
dated by a year or the Chevalier was 30
months, not 18, in prison.
Note B, page 61,
Comte de la Rouarie — known in the Amer
ican army as Colonel Armand — had a strange
career. He was born in 1756 at St. Malo, and,
when quite a young man, obtained a commis
sion in one of the regiments of Royal body
guards. Though destined afterward to be
come one of the staunchest supporters of roy
alty, he was at first almost a republican, before
the Republic was thought of, and his free and
fearless criticisms on the Court caused him to
be regarded with disfavour by the military au
thorities. He did not improve his prospects
by falling madly in love with Mile. Beaumes-
nil,* a pretty but not very clever actress, who
* In Michaud's Biographie Universelle, the name of
the actress is incorrectly given as Mile. Fleury.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

273

was his uncle's mistress, and proposing to
marry her. She refused him, very sensibly re
marking that their marriage would create a
scandal, involve his social ruin, and ultimately
cause him to loathe her. Finding that she
was firm in her resolve, he first fought a duel
with Comte Bourbon-Brisset, — whom he be
lieved to be a favoured rival, — and then retired
to the Monastery of La Trappe.
When the war broke out in America, he
threw aside the monk's cowl, and joined La
Fayette. At the termination of the campaign,
he returned to France, and when the Revolu
tion occurred espoused the royalist cause. For
some time he, as leader of the Breton peasants,
carried on a not altogether unsuccessful war
fare against the Revolutionary troops, but his
forces were eventually defeated or dispersed,
and he was forced to disguise himself as a
beggar. For eighteen months he wandered
about Brittany, and at last, 30th January, 1793,
died of an illness brought on by exposure,
and want of food. His body was buried in a
grave dug in the midst of a forest. His " pa
pers " were buried with him, in a glass bottle.
One of the Revolutionary spies found out the
place of his interment, dug up the grave, and
secured the papers. The information thus se-
*9

274

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

cured led to the execution of fourteen persons,
including the proprietor of the chateau where
La Rouarie had died.
Lebegne Duportail was a very skilful engi
neer officer. At the end of the American War
he returned to France, and was sent to instruct
the Neapolitan army in military engineering.
A quarrel with one of the Italian Generals led
to his early recall. In 1790, La Fayette, who
was all-powerful at that time, caused Duportail
to be named Minister of War. He impru
dently allowed the soldiers to frequent the po
litical clubs. Whilst he was in Lorraine, in
1792, he was " denounced." He at once re
turned to Paris and remained in concealment
for twenty-two months, but in 1794 a law was
passed punishing with death all who concealed
a proscribed person, and he made his escape
to America, and resided there for eight years.
In 1802 he was recalled by Bonaparte, but died
whilst on the voyage back to France.
Of Duplessis-Mauduit I have been unable
to learn any particulars. His name is men
tioned in Balch's Les Francais en Amerique,
but, as he died young, and all that he did ac
complish was performed in the New World,
there is no record of him in French histories.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

275

Note C, page 62.
The " M. Thomas " here alluded to was
Antoine Leonard Thomas " of the Academy,"
born at Clermont Ferrand, 1 October, 1732,
died 17th September, 1785. He was one of a
family of seventeen children. A perusal of Ju
monville is calculated to induce the reader to
believe that there were not brains enough to
go round, for though not very long, — the four
cantos contain less than a thousand lines in all,
— it is hopelessly dull and uninteresting, never
rising to pathos, though often sinking to ba
thos. The couplet describing the death of
Jumonville will serve as an example:
Par un plomb homicide indignement perce,
Aux pieds de ses boureaux il tombe renverse.
There is no mention of Washington in the
poem ; — either the poet had never heard of him
at the time (1759) or could not make the name
fit into his verses.
Note D, page 88.
The author is not quite fair towards Fred
erick Howard, 5th Earl of Carlisle (b. 1748, d.
1825). Though a fop in his early days, — he
and Fox were esteemed the two best dressed
men in town, — he developed into a fairly good

276 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
statesman, with a cultivated literary taste. He
is, perhaps, best known as the guardian of
Lord Byron, who dedicated the Hours of
Idleness to him, abused him in English
Bards and Scotch Reviewers (" The paralytic
puling of Carlisle ") and made the amende hon
orable in Childe Harold c. iii, 29, 30. His
reply to La Fayette's challenge was not quite
as given by our author, but was to the effect
that " he considered himself solely responsible
to his country and king, and not to an indi
vidual." It is quite true that the opposition
papers in England made sarcastic remarks
about him, and no doubt, if he still continued
to wear paint and patches, the fact was not
forgotten. Horace Walpole said of him, that,
" he was very fit to make a treaty that will not
be made."
Note E, page 89.
If Charles Hector, Comte d'Estaing (b.
1729), had been able to do the English half the
harm that he wished them, they would have
been swept off the face of the earth. The
cause of his animosity was not very creditable
to him. He was taken prisoner by the Eng
lish at the siege of Madras (he was then a sol
dier) and released on parole. He broke his

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

277

parole, and at the head of a party of French
men " did a good deal of harm to English
commerce." He was again captured, and as
his word was obviously of no value, he was
sent to England, and spent some time in Ports
mouth Jail. When he was released he re
turned to France, "vowing eternal hatred to
the English," though as his French biographer
owns, " his not very loyal conduct had pro
voked the punishment under which he
groaned." He was appointed Admiral in 1763.
He did not achieve any very remarkable feat
in American waters, against Howe. In the
Revolution he tried to " sit on the fence," but
there was a short method with mugwumps in
those days, and he was brought before the
tribunal and condemned to death, 28th April,
1794.
Note F, page 91.
Pierre Andre de Suffren Saint-Tropez, gen
erally called Bailli de Suffren, was one of the
best and bravest sailors France ever had. He
was born at St. Cannat, in Provence, 13th
July, 1726, died 8th December, 1788. He op
posed the English in the East, and in 1782
fought five obstinately contested naval battles
with Admiral Sir Edward Hughes. Of these

278 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
battles Professor Laughton says (Diet. Nat.
Biog.), "There is no other instance in naval
history of two fleets thus fighting five battles
within little more than a year (four of them
within seven months) with no very clear ad
vantage on either side. French writers speak
of the five battles as ' five glorious victories,'
but in reality they were very evenly balanced
in point of fighting, whilst as to strategic re
sults, the English had a slight advantage from
the first three, the French from the last two.
The tactical advantage, however, commonly
lay with the French, who were prevented from
reaping the benefit of it solely by the mutinous
or cowardly conduct of the French captains."
It is possible that De Suffren would not have
fared so well if pitted against Rodney, Hood,
or Howe, but at any rate he would have shown
himself a fearless fighter and a skilful seaman
— a veritable " sea-dog " of a type which, un
fortunately for France, has been all too rare in
the annals of her navy.
Note G, page 98.
The letter given is quite characteristic of its
writer, and though not included in Lomenie's
valuable Life of Beaumarchais, is no doubt

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

279

genuine, being exactly in the sarcastic strain
he would be likely to employ. Of his quarrel
with Congress this is not the place to speak,
but we cannot unreservedly accept the Cheva
lier de Pontgibaud's estimation of him.
Note H, page 121.
Francois Joseph Paul, Comte de Grasse (b.
1753), though a brave man was not a great
tactician. He was also unfortunate in being
opposed to Hood, whom Nelson called, " the
best officer, take him altogether, that England
had to boast of." In January, 1782, De Grasse,
with 32 ships, allowed Hood, with only 23, to
get into the harbour at St. Christophers, take
1300 men who were being besieged there, and
get out again unscathed. Three months later,
Rodney and Hood inflicted a heavy defeat on
De Grasse, sinking his flag ship and taking
him prisoner. Anglo-Saxons always respect
a brave man, and De Grasse was treated more
like a guest than a prisoner whilst in England.
On his release he returned to France, but did
not again assume the command of a squadron,
and died in Paris, 14th January, 1788, in the
65th year of his age.

28o A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
Note I, page 123.
Armand Louis de Gontaut Biron, Due de
Lauzun, born 15th April, 1747, died on the
scaffold 31st December, 1793. His youth was
passed in dissipation, but in 1777, he startled
everybody by bringing out a pamphlet on The
State of Defence of England and her Posses
sions in all the four quarters of the World,
which led to his being entrusted with the com
mand of an expedition to destroy the English
settlements on the coast of Senegal. This he
successfully accomplished (January, 1779),
and in 1780 he was fighting in America. He
took the Revolutionary side, and received the
command of the Army of the Rhine in 1792,
and in 1793 was employed against the Ven-
deans. As a matter of course he was accused
of uncitizenly conduct " and too much mod
eration towards the rebels," was deprived of
his command, imprisoned, condemned, and
executed.
Note J, page 141.
Philippe Pinel a celebrated doctor, distin
guished for his knowledge of mathematics and
philosophy, but best known for having intro
duced the humane treatment of the insane,
who until that time had been treated as dan-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 28 1
gerous animals, and left to rot neglected in
noisome dungeons. He was the author of
over twenty scientific works. He died 25th
October, 1826.

Note K, page 145.
When Louis XIV was shown the newly-
completed palace of Trianon, he asked De
Louvois, who was not only Prime Minister,
but " Inspector of Royal Buildings," why one
of the windows was smaller than the others?
De Louvois rudely declared that they were all
the same size. The King said nothing, but
the next day sent for Le Notre, a celebrated
artist and architect, and asked him in the pres
ence of De Louvois whether the windows
were all the same size? Le Notre declared
that one of them was a trifle smaller than the
others, and the King turned in triumph to
wards De Louvois. The Minister went home
in a rage. " I must give this young fool some
thing better to think about than the size of
windows," he said, and within the next few
hours he had declared war against Holland.
The story is of doubtful authenticity, but if
not true is ben trovato.

282 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
Note L, page 149.
Marie Jean Herault de Seychelles, who
owing to influence at Court, obtained several
good appointments. In the Revolution he be
came a Girondin, was a follower of Danton,
and perished with his leader and Camille Des
moulins on the scaffold.
Note M, page 178.
In spite of the author's prejudices Moreau
de St. Mery must be deemed a good man; —
in fact if it may be said that La Fayette was
the only man who " kept his head " in the
Revolution, it might also be averred that Mo
reau de St. Mery was the only man who kept
his heart. He was born in the island of Mar
tinique, 13th January, 1750. When he was
only three years old he lost his father, and his
mother would not let him go to France to be
educated. His grandfather was a judge or
magistrate, and young Moreau de St. Mery
was when a boy always interceding for some
unfortunate prisoner. At his grandfather's
death he inherited a sum of money, destined
to defray the cost of his legal education in
France, but he used the money to pay the old
man's debts. At the age of nineteen he came

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 283
to Paris, and studied hard. He resolved to
sleep only one night in three. He acquired
in fourteen months such a knowledge of Latin
that he wrote a thesis in that language, and
could declaim long passages, not only from
the works of the poets, but from treatises on
law, etc. During the first part of the Revo
lution he entered the National Assembly as
representative of Martinique, but he was far
too moderate or good-hearted. He was at
tacked whilst returning home one night, and
left for dead on the pavement, with half a
dozen sabre cuts on his head and body. He
recovered, and retired to the little village of
Forges, where he was arrested by the spies
of the Terror. One of these bravos, how
ever, helped him to escape, and he got to
Havre, where hearing that Robespierre had
issued fresh orders for his arrest, he sailed for
America. He kept a book-store and printing
business at Philadelphia. The author's state
ment that he had little or no stock in his shop,
and failed for a large amount, is not confirmed
by the biographical dictionaries, which assert
that he lived in some style in Philadelphia,
and was often able to help poor French emi
grants. He returned to France and was em
ployed by Napoleon on several missions, but

284 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
he was too soft-hearted, and having remon
strated with Junot for having burned a few
villages and slaughtered the inhabitants, he
was recalled from Parma, the seat of his last
mission. Napoleon did not employ him again,
and did not pay him his salary. Moreau de
St. Mery sought an interview with the Em
peror. " I do not expect you to recompense
my honesty," he said, " only to recognize it.
Do not be afraid," he added sarcastically, " the
disease is not contagious." Napoleon never
theless allowed him to nearly starve, but, at
the Restoration, Louis XVIII gave him 15,-
000 francs, and this enabled him to pay his
few debts and pass the remainder of his days
in comfort. He died 28th January, 1819, aged
69. The motto of his life, and to which he al
ways acted up, was " // est tou jours I'heure de
faire le bien."

Note N, page 184.
Louis Marie, Vicomte de Noailles (born
1756), fought in the War of Independence.
Like many others of the " gilded youth " of
France, he imbibed in America revolutionary
notions which he carried back to France, and
in the Revolution he was one of the most

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

285

" advanced " members of the Convention. At
last he found he could not conscientiously fol
low the leaders of the people, and in May,
1792, he went to England, expecting a change
in affairs to soon take place. Then came the
" 10th August,'- and De Noailles was shortly
afterwards proscribed as an emigre. His fa
ther, mother, and wife were guillotined. To
return was impossible, so he went to the
United States and settled at Philadelphia,
where he became a partner in the banking
house of Bingham and Co. He learned to
speak English so well that on one occasion he
conducted a law-suit that lasted fifteen days.
Towards the close of the year 1800 his name
was removed from the list of emigres, but his
business affairs in the United States were so
extensive that he refused to return to France.
In 1803 he went to Hayti on business, and
there met Rochambeau, who entrusted him
with the command of a fort garrisoned by
1800 men, but which was blockaded by a
British squadron, whilst " 20,000 blacks " (?)
besieged it by land. Rochambeau, who com
manded the main army of some 5000 men,
was forced to capitulate, but was allowed to
transport his troops to Cuba. De Noailles
was summoned to surrender, but he replied

286 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
that "a French general who had provisions,
ammunition, and devoted soldiers could not
surrender without shame." He had been pri
vately informed that Rochambeau's convoy
would pass near his fort on a certain night,
and he cleverly got all his men on board ship,
ran out under cover of the darkness and joined
Rochambeau without being perceived by any
of the British vessels. They got to Cuba, but
De Noailles wished to join a French force at
Havannah. He and a company of grenadiers
who were faithful to him, embarked on board
a small French ship, called the Courier,
mounting only four small guns. They fell
in with a British sloop of war, the Hazard,
seven guns. De Noailles displayed the Brit
ish flag, and when hailed replied in such excel
lent English that the captain of the Hazard
was deceived, and asked if they had seen any
thing of " General de Noailles " whom the
Hazard had been commissioned to capture.
De Noailles replied that he was on the same
errand, and he would accompany the Hazard.
In the middle of the night he ran his vessel
into the Hazard and boarded her. The Eng
lish though taken by surprise, fought well,
and though the Hazard was captured De
Noailles was mortally wounded, and many of

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 287
his men killed. De Noailles died of his
wounds a week later (9th January, 1804) at
Havannah. His heart was inclosed in a silver
box, and his grenadiers attached it to their
flag and carried it back to France.

Note O, page 186.
There is not much difficulty in identifying
the " Bishop of A  " with Charles Maurice
de Talleyrand, Bishop of Autun. The partic
ulars of his life are so well known that there
is no need to recapitulate them here, but a
few words may be said about his attempt to
" blackmail " the United States Envoys. It is
perfectly true that Talleyrand extorted bribes
from everybody who was willing to pay him,
and that he called the sums he so received
douceurs. The " negociators " from the United
States — Messrs. Charles Cotesworth Pinckney,
John Marshall, and Elbridge Gerry, — had not
been long in Paris before they were informed
by a Mr. Bellamy (said to be a partner with
Talleyrand in this blackmailing business), Ste.
Foix, and a lady, who cannot easily be iden
tified, that "nothing could be done without
money ; the members of the Directory must be
paid." According to the popular story, Pinck-

288 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
ney replied, " War be it then. Millions for
defence but not a cent for tribute." This
does not quite agree with the Chevalier's state
ment that he heard one of the Envoys, — prob
ably Pinckney, — inform Congress that they
had paid Talleyrand 50,000 francs, and only
stopped when they found the blackmailers
but increased their demands the more they re
ceived. I cannot help fancying that the pop
ular version is the correct one; it accords
more with the dignity of the American people,
and is borne out by the undoubted fact that
Talleyrand was frightened, and wrote to Mr.
Pinckney to ask the names of the persons who
had demanded money, who, he alleged, had
done so without authority from him. Talley
rand did not display his usual cunning in the
transaction, for his letter aroused the wrath
of Bellamy, who thereupon wrote to Mr. Ger
ry, that, " he had done nothing, said nothing,
and written nothing about the instructions of
Citizen Talleyrand."
The " woman of colour " to whom the
Chevalier alludes, was doubtless Madame
Grand, " an Indian beauty " who was Talley
rand's mistress for many years, and whom he
would have married if he had not been pre
vented by the unalterable formula of the Ro-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 289
man Catholic Church, "once a priest, always a
priest" She survived him by a few years,
and is buried in the Montparnasse Cemetery,
at Paris. Note P, page 198.
Constantin Francois Chasseboeuf, Comte
de Volney, was a well known philosopher and
author. His Ruins was once a popular book.
It involved him in a discussion with Dr. Priest
ley who called him " an atheist, an ignoramus,
a Chinese, and a Hottentot." His theories
have long since fallen into desuetude in France
and oblivion elsewhere, and it is therefore un
necessary to criticise him here. His name still
remains familiar to most travelled Americans,
as a street in Paris is called after him.

Note Q, page 199.
The Princes d'Orleans mentioned in these
pages were Louis Philippe and his two broth
ers. Louis Philippe arrived in America to
wards the end of 1796, and was joined by his
brothers early in 1797. After spending some
time in America they left for England, where
they lived on an allowance from the British
Government until the Restoration.

290 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER
Note R, page 261.
The Chevalier, writing many years after
the events occurred, has rather mixed up his
dates. Of the Duke of Ragusa (Marmont)
who was the first governor of Illyria he says
nothing. General J. is, of course, Junot. He
went out of his mind, and it is most likely he
was kidnapped in the manner stated. A very
few months later he threw himself out of win
dow, fractured his thigh and died of the effects
of the consequent amputation, — July, 1813.
" General B  ," — who preceded, not fol
lowed Junot, as the Chevalier states, — was
Bertrand. There were several officers of this
name. The one mentioned, I believe, was not
the Bertrand who accompanied Napoleon to
St. Helena, but a skilful engineer, who was
removed from his command in Illyria and sent
to fortify Antwerp, and render it — " a pistol
held at the breast of England." He afterwards
resided in the United States where he under
took several important engineering works.
Joseph Fouche, Duke of Otranto, was such a
well-known personage that he will be found
mentioned in any good biographical dic
tionary.

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

291

Note S, page 266.
Gustavus IV was only 14 when he suc
ceeded his father. An intense hatred of the
French, or rather Napoleon, made him al
most a monomaniac, and involved his country
in wars with both France and Russia, with
defeat and loss of territory in both cases. He
was at last deposed and the throne given to
his uncle the Duke of Sudermania. Gustavus
wandered about Europe under the names of
Comte Gottorp, or Duke of Holstein-Eutin,
and after 1816 called himself simply " Gus-
tafson," or the son of Gustavus. It is possi
ble that he was a congenital lunatic, and his
misfortunes aggravated the disease. An in
stance of his eccentricity is the curious adver
tisement which he inserted in all the leading
journals of Europe previous to starting for
the Holy Land. He advertised for ten travel
ling companions, viz., an Englishman, a Dane,
a Spaniard, a Frenchman, a Hungarian, a
Dutchman, an Italian, a Russian, a Swiss, and
an inhabitant of Holstein-Eutin. They were
all to have good certificates as to morals and
character, and each was to bring 4000 florins,
or at least 2000 florins, to be put into a common
fund. They were all to dress in black robes,

292

A FRENCH VOLUNTEER

to let their beards grow " as a sign of their
manly resolution"; and they were to be
known as the Black Brotherhood. They were
to meet at Trieste on a certain day. Appar
ently the people of Europe were disinclined to
avail themselves of the privilege of a trip to
Palestine in the company of a royal " crank,"
for no one answered this extraordinary ad
vertisement, and Gustavus started off by him
self, — but soon returned. He retired to Swit
zerland, where he lived in the greatest poverty,
for he refused to receive any money from
Sweden, and would have starved had not his
divorced queen and children contrived without
his knowledge to supply his wants. He died
in 1837 in such obscurity that there are even
doubts as to the place of his death. An Eng
lish encyclopaedia says that he died at St.
Gall in Switzerland; — a French one that he
died in Moravia. Note T, page 268.
Jerome Bonaparte, the youngest brother
of Napoleon I, was born at Ajaccio, Novem
ber, 1784, and died at Villegenis (Seine et
Oise), 24th June, i860. He came to France
at an early age, and, after a very little school-

OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 293
ing had been wasted upon him, was given a
commission in the Consular Guards. A quar
rel and a duel, with the son of General Davout,
caused him to quit the army and join the navy.
In 1803 he visited the United States, where he
married Miss Patterson, but the marriage was
declared null and void by the Emperor.
After seeing some naval service, he re
turned to France and was eventually received
into the favour of his elder brother, given the
command of an army corps, and eventually
created king of Westphalia and married the
Princess Catharine of Wurtemberg. He was
a mere " Carnival King," and indulged in
every sort of dissipation, took baths of Bor
deaux wine, bestowed enormous gifts of
money on his male and female favourites, and
wasted nearly a quarter of the revenues of his
extensive kingdom in vice and debauchery.
When the fall of the Empire seemed immi
nent, he at first thought of joining his broth
er's enemies, but finding that such a step
would bring him nothing but disgrace, re
tired first to France, and then to Trieste, with
his wife, who still refused to leave him.
After Napoleon's escape from Elba, Je
rome again rejoined his brother, and fought
gallantly at Charleroi, Quatre-Bras and Water-

294 A FRENCH VOLUNTEER.
loo. Imprisoned along with his wife by the
Allies, he was after a few months set free, and
went to reside first at Naples, then at Trieste,
Rome, and Florence. In 1847 he was per
mitted to return to France. He took no part
in the Revolution of 1848 beyond giving it his
"moral support," but favoured the ambitious
views of his nephew, who, in return created
him Governor of the Invalides, a Marshal
of France, and after the Coup d!Etat, President
of the Senate. He took little or no part in
politics, however, and was almost forgotten
by the public when he died in i860.

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who, even when he is unable to approve, speaks his mind in soberness and
kindness."— New "York Sun.
"There is much in German character to admire; much in Germany's
life and institutions from which Americans may learn. William Harbutt
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each other more. . . . It is a remarkable and a fascinating work." — Chicago
Evening Post.
*' One of the very best works on this subject which has been published
up to date." — New York Herald.
A HISTORY OF GERMANY, from the Earliest
¦*¦*¦ Times to the Present Day. By Bayard Taylor. With
an Additional Chapter by Marie Hansen-Taylor. With
Portrait and Maps. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50.
" There is, perhaps, no work of equal size in any language which gives
a better view of the tortuous course of German history. Now that the
story of a race is to be in good earnest a story of a nation as well, it begins,
as every one, whether German or foreign, sees, to furnish unexpected and
wonderful lessons. But these can only be understood in the light of the
past, Taylor could end his work with the birth of the empire, but the
additional narrative merely foreshadows the evenLs of the future. It may
be that all the doings of the past ages on German soil are but the introduc
tion of what is to come. That is certainly the thought which grows upon
one as he peruses this volume." — New York Tribune.
'* When one considers the confused, complicated, and sporadic elements
of German history, it seems scarcely possible to present a clear, continuous
narrative. Yet this is what Bayard Taylor did. He omitted no episode of
importance, and yet managed to preserve a main line of connection from
century to century throughout the narrative." — Philadelphia Ledger.
" Probably the best work of its kind adapted for school purposes that
can be had in English."— Boston Herald.
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" A singularly attractive picture of Queen Victoria. . . . The interests
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H~HE LIFE OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE
•*¦ PRINCE CONSORT. By Sir Theodore Martin. In
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*THE SOVEREIGNS AND COURTS OF EUROPE.
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0~HE RISE AND GROWTH OF THE ENGLISH
¦*¦ NATION. With Special Reference to Epochs and Crises.
A History of and for the People. By W. H. S. Aubrey,
LL. D. In Three Volumes. i2mo. Cloth, $4.50.
" The merit of this work is intrinsic. It rests on the broad intelligence
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was there more crowded into three small volumes. But the saving of space
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comprehensive and convenient reference book." — The Argonaut.
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D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
N AIDE-DE-CAMP OF NAPOLEON. Memoirs
of General Count de Segur, of the French Academy,
1800-1812. Revised by his Grandson, Count Louis de
Segur. i2mo. Cloth, $2.00.
" We say without hesitation that 'An Aide-de-Camp of Napoleon ' is
the book of memoirs above all others that should be read by those who are
anxious to see Napoleon through the eyes of one of the many keen judges
of character by whom he was surrounded."— < London Literary World.
"The Count's personal story of adventure is so thrilling, and his oppor
tunities of watching Napoleon were so constant and so ably utilized, that
his work deserves honorable mention among works which show us history
in the making, and the realities as well as the romance of war." — London
Daily Telegraph.
" We thank the publishers for this translation of a most absorbing book.
The story of Austerlitz is one involving so much genius that it must be read
as a whole— all the good things with which the book abounds."' — London
Daily Chronicle.
" The historical interest is undoubtedly great. De Segur's account of
Napoleon's plans for the invasion of England is very interesting." — London
Times. " No recent work of which the present fashion for Napoleonic literature
has witnessed either in the shape of translations from the French or of
original monographs on his famous battles, is likely to interest a larger class
of intelligent readers than * An Aide-de-Camp of Napoleon.' " — New York
Mail and Express.
" * An Aide de-Camp of Napoleon ' is the title of one of the most inter
esting of the many works which have been published concerning the career
of the great warrior." — New York Press.
" The memoirs of Count de Sfigur are distinguished by all the light
graces that can polish a recital and impart delicacy to a narrative without
depriving it of its strength It is a pleasure to peruse this well-written memo
rial of one who was a general of division, peer of France, and Academician,
and who lived for the greater part of a century a brilliant figure in war,
politics, and letters."— Philadelphia Public Ledger.
" It is not only full of personal reminiscence, but of personal adventure,
and, as the style is easy and admirable, neither conceited nor tedious, it is
needless to say that the result is exceedingly interesting.1' — Boston Com
mercial Bulletin.
"The book is a delightful one, not only for its clear, flowing style and
historical interest, but for the entire absence of anything approaching bom
bast or straining for effect . . . This is one of the most interesting publica
tions that the Napoleonic revival has given us." — Cleveland World.
" Next to the memoirs of the private secretary, the Baron de Meneval,
issued by the Appletons a year ago, this volume of Segur's is of greatest in
terest." — Rochester Herald.

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D. APPLETON AND COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS.
MEMOIRS OF MARSHAL OUDINOT, Due de
Reggio. Compiled from the hitherto unpublished sou
venirs of the Duchesse de Reggio by Gaston Stiegler,
and now first translated into English by Alexander
Teixeira de Mattos. With two Portraits in Heliogravure.
i2mo. Cloth, $2.00.
"The * Memoirs of Marshal Oudinot' are interesting because they in
clude the history of one of the most brilliant periods the world has ever
seen." — Chicago Evening Post.
" The reading of this charming, vivacious, and accurate book makes it
a continual source of wonder that any one, at this day, should be writing a
history of the Napoleonic era. . . . The complete unconsciousness and
the exquisite naturalness of the style are charming." — New York Com
mercial A dvertiser.
" This frankly loyal and graphic picturing of a great man's true charac
ter, seen from the nearest standpoints by a biographer of wonderful keen
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sentimental, it is a book distinctly invaluable to and actually inseparable
from a study of French history." —Boston Globe.
" It is for the side lights of the marshal's life that this book is chiefly
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ending charm in the freshness of the narrative. There is nothing that is dull
or monotonous." — Chicago Journal.
" Full of new and entertaining material, and has a really significant his
torical value. . . . These memoirs are noteworthy for their gentleness of
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their incontestable merit." — Boston Beacon.
" The story of this gallant soldier is of strong romantic interest and
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dence News.
" Few French commanders were more popular, both with rulers and with
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interest." — Chicago Inter-Ocean.
"The pages are filled with illustrious names that arouse pleasant or un
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tained, frequently enlightened, until the last page is reached. ... It will
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— Boston Saturday Evening Gazette.
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found more attractive, because there is none more genuine than this
record."— Chicago Times-Herald.
" An extremely interesting addition to historical biography. . . . These
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complete biography, written in an easy, natural, unpretentious style.' —
Detroit Free Press.

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D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
MEMOIRS ILL USTRA TING THE HISTOR Y OF
¦**¦* NAPOLEON I, from 1802 to 1815. By Baron Claude-
Francois de Meneval, Private Secretary to Napoleon.
Edited by his Grandson, Baron Napoleon Joseph de
Meneval. With Portraits and Autograph Letters. In
three volumes. 8vo. Cloth, $6.00.
"The Baron de Meneval knew Napoleon as few knew him. He was
his confidential secretary and intimate friend. . . . Students and historians
who wish to form a trustworthy estimate of Napoleon can not afford to neg
lect this testimony by one of his most intimate associates." — London News.
"These Memoirs, by the private secretary of Napoleon, are a valuable
and important contribution to the history of the Napoleonic period, and
necessarily they throw new and interesting light on the personality and real
sentiments of the emperor. If Napoleon anywhere took off the mask, it
was in the seclusion of his private cabinet. The Memoirs have been re
published almost as they were written, by Baron de MenevaTs grandson,
with the addition of some supplementary documents." — London Times.
" Meneval has brought the living Napoleon clearly before us in a por
trait, flattering, no doubt, but essentially true to nature; and he has shown
us what the emperor really was — at the head of his armies, in his Council of
State, as the ruler of France, as the lord of the continent — above all, in the
round of his daily life and in the circle of family and home." — London
Academy. "Neither the editor nor translator of MenevaTs Memoirs has miscalcu
lated his deep interest— an interest which does not depend on literary style
but on the# substance of what is related. Whoever reads this volume will
wait with impatience for the remainder." — New York Tribune.
" The work will take rank with the most important of memoirs relating
to the period. Its great value arises largely from its author's transparent
veracity. Meneval was one of those men who could not consciously tell
anything but the truth. He was constitutionally unfitted for lying. . . .
The book is extremely interesting, and it is as important as it is interesting."
— New York Times.
" Few memoirists have given us a more minute account of Napoleon.
. . . No lover of Napoleon, no admirer of his wonderful genius, can fail to
read these interesting and important volumes which have been waited for
for years." — New York World.
"The book will be hailed with delight by the collectors of Napoleonic
literature, as it covers much ground wholly unexplored by the great major
ity of the biographers of Napoleon." — Providence Journal.
"Meneval made excellent use of the rare opportunity he enjoyed of
studying closely and at close range the personality of the supreme genius
in human history." — Philadelphia Press.
"Of all the memoirs illustrating the history of the first Napoleon — and
their number is almost past counting - there is probably not one which will
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general reader than these. " — New York Independent.

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D. APPLETON AND COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS.
'THE BEGINNERS OF A NA TION A History of
-* the Source and Rise of the Earliest English Settlements in
America, with Special Reference to the Life and Character
of the People. The first volume in A History of Life in
the United States. By Edward Eggleston. Small 8vo.
Cloth, gilt top, uncut, with Maps, $1.50.
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it with the confidence of a master."— New York Times.
"Mr. Eggleston's 'Beginners' is unique. No similar historical study
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prove of great value to the student of history.*' — Minneapolis Journal.
** A very interesting as well as a valuable book. ... A distinct advance
upon most that has been written, particularly of the settlement of New
England." — Newark Advertiser.
"One of the most important books of the year. It is a work of art as
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ing, and the history is fully as interesting as a novel."— Brooklyn Stand
ard-Union. " The value of Mr. Eggleston's work is in that it is really a history of
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his volume has been excellently performed. The book is eminently read
able." — Philadelphia Times.

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D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

¦ • 3ii

COLONIAL COURT-HOUSE.
PHILADELPHIA, 1707.

"This work marks an epoch in the history-
writing of this country."— St. Louis Post'
Dispatch.
7 HE HOUSEHOLD HISTO
RY OF THE UNITED ST A TES
AND ITS PEOPLE. For Young
Americans. By Edward Eggles
ton. Richly illustrated with 350
- Drawings, 75 Maps, etc. Square
^ 8vo. Cloth, $2.50.

FROM THE PREFACE.
The present work is meant, in the first instance, for the young — not
alone for boys and girls, but for young men and women who have yet to
make themselves familiar with the more important features of their country's
history. By a book for the young is meant one in which the author studies
to make his statements clear and explicit, in which curious and picturesque
details are inserted, and in which the writer does not neglect such anecdotes
as lend the charm of a human and personal interest to the broader facts of
the nation's story. That history is often tiresome to the young is not so
much the fault of history as of a false method of writing by which one con
trives to relate events without sympathy or imagination, without narrative
connection or animation. The attempt to master vague and general records
of kiln-dried facts is certain to beget in the ordinary reader a repulsion from
the study of history — one of the very most important of all studies for its
widening influence on general culture.

"Fills a decided gap which has existed for the past twenty years in
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and development of the nation. It is profusely and beautifully illustrated."
— Boston Transcript.
" The book in its new dress makes a much finer appearance than before,
and will be welcomed by older readers as gladly as its predecessor was
greeted by girls and boys. The lavish use the publishers have made of
colored plates, woodcuts, and photographic reproductions gives an un
wonted piquancy to the printed page, catching the eye as surely as the text
engages the mind." — New York Critic.
"The author writes history as a story. It can never be less than that.
The book will enlist the interest of young people, enlighten their under
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