THE FRENCH AT NEWPORT.
"Grenadiers, rendez-vous!"
"La Garde meurt et ne se rend pas."
"Braves Francais, rendez-vous; vous serez traites comme les
premiers soldats du monde."
"_La garde meurt et ne se rend pas._"--OLD GUARD AT WATERLOO.
Another phase of Newport in by-gone days was the sojourn of our French
allies in the Revolution. Then there were real counts, and dukes, and
marquises in Newport. There had also been a British occupation; but the
troops of his Britannic Majesty ruined the town, humiliated its pride,
and crushed its prejudices under an armed heel. On the other hand, the
French soldiers respected property, were considerate in their treatment
of the inhabitants, and paid scrupulously for every thing they took. In
time of war a garrisoned town is usually about equally abused by friend
or enemy. Here the approach of the French was dreaded, and their
departure regarded as a misfortune.
Apropos to the good behavior of our French friends is the testimony of
an eye-witness, who says: "The different deputations of savages who came
to view their camp exhibited no surprise at the sight of the cannon, the
troops, or of their exercise; but they could not recover from their
astonishment at seeing apple-trees loaded with fruit above the tents
which the soldiers had been occupying for three months." The English,
during their occupation, had burned almost the last forest-tree on the
island.
The astonishing spectacle of monarchy aiding democracy against itself is
one of the reflections suggested by the alliance. Besides Louis Seize,
other crowned heads would willingly have helped America as against the
old "Termagant of the Seas," had not the idea been too illogical. The
Empress Catherine II. is reported as having hinted, in a private
interview with Sir James Harris,[285] at the possibility of restoring
European peace by renouncing the struggle England was making with her
American colonies. "May I ask your Majesty," said the _ruse_ old Briton,
"if this would be your policy in case the colonies had belonged to you?"
"J'aimerais mieux perdre ma tete," replied the empress (I would sooner
lose my head).
Kaiser Joseph repulsed the idea with equal candor and bluntness:
"Madame, mon metier a moi c'est d'etre royaliste" (Madam, my trade is to
be a royalist).
This was not the first move France had made to detach the American
colonies from the British crown. Far back in the day of the Puritans the
thing had been attempted. Again, in 1767, M. de Choiseul dispatched
Baron De Kalb on a secret mission. The baron came, saw, and made his
report. He wrote from Boston in March, 1768, that he did not believe it
possible to induce the Americans to accept foreign aid, on account of
their fixed faith in their sovereign's justice.[286] We were still,
while growling, licking the hand that smote us. And this little fragment
shows that before the day of Caron Beaumarchais, of "Sleek Silas," of
"Sleek Benjamin," the idea of assistance was already germinating. France
was to heave away at the old British empire as soon as she had found a
fulcrum on which to rest her lever.
D'Estaing came first to Newport; but his appearance, like that of a
meteor, was very brilliant and very brief. Besides being vice-admiral,
he was also lieutenant-general, and brought with him something in excess
of fifteen hundred land soldiers, without counting the marines of his
fleet. The chevalier advanced his squadron in two divisions, one
ascending the Narraganset, the other the Seconnet passage. He cannonaded
Sir Robert Pigot's batteries, destroyed some British vessels, and
caused some addition to the national debt of England. Then, when the
pear was ready to fall, at sight of Earl Howe's fleet he put to sea, and
was battered by his lordship and by storms until he brought his
shattered vessels into Boston Harbor, where he should refit, and taste
Governor Hancock's wine.
The Americans, who had advanced under Sullivan within two miles of
Newport--old continentals, militia, and volunteer corps, full of fight
and confident of success--were obliged to withdraw in good order but bad
temper. Sullivan secured his retreat by a brilliant little action at the
head of the island.
The French at Boston found themselves very ill received. They were
accused of having abandoned, betrayed Sullivan. French sailors and
soldiers were beaten in the streets, and their officers seriously
wounded in attempting to quell affrays with the populace. D'Estaing
conducted himself with great circumspection. He refused to press the
punishment of the leaders in these outrages; but, stung by the
imputation of cowardice, offered to put himself, a vice-admiral of
France, with seven hundred men, under the orders of Sullivan, who, says
a French historian, "was lately nothing but a lawyer."
[Illustration: EARL HOWE.]
An extraordinary number of personages, distinguished in the Revolution,
or under the empire, its successor, served France in America. The heads
of many fell under the guillotine. In this way perished D'Estaing. He
was in Paris during the Reign of Terror, and present at the trial of
Marie Antoinette. One of those ladies who met him at Boston describes
him as of dignified presence, affable, and gracious.
With D'Estaing came Jourdan, a shop-keeper, and the son of a doctor. At
sixteen he was the comrade of Rochambeau, and in the same regiment
Montcalm had commanded in 1743. The Limousin shows with pride to the
stranger the old wooden house, with dark front, in which the conqueror
of Fleurus was born. The marshal who had commanded the army of the
_Sambre et Meuse_ became the scape-goat of Vittoria.
[Illustration: ROCHAMBEAU.]
After D'Estaing came Rochambeau, and with him a crowd of young officers
of noble birth, fortune's favorites, who yet sought with the eagerness
of knights-errant to enroll themselves in the ranks of the alliance.
Gay, careless, chivalric, and debonair, carrying their high-bred
courtesy even to the front of battle, they were worthy sons of the men
who at Fontenoy advanced, hat in hand, from the ranks, and saluted their
English enemies: "Apres vous, messieurs les Anglais; nous ne tirons
jamais les premiers" (After you, gentlemen; we never fire first).
Having in some respects remained much as when the French were here,
there is no greater difficulty in beating our imaginary _rappel_ than in
supposing Newport peopled when walking at night through its deserted
streets.
[Illustration: ROCHAMBEAU'S HEAD-QUARTERS.]
We suppose an intrenched camp drawn across the island from the sea to
the harbor, having town, fleet, and transports under its wing, and
batteries on all the points and islands. Twelve days sufficed to secure
the position to the satisfaction of Rochambeau, who shrugged his
shoulders, saying, as another and greater said after him, "I have them
now, these English." Yet Washington, remembering Long Island and Fort
Washington, wrote in July to General Heath, "I wish the Count de
Rochambeau had taken a position on the main."[287]
[Illustration: LOUIS XVI.]
Under British rule, Newport wore a muzzle; under French, a collar
bristling with steel. The white standard was unfolded to the breeze in
all the camps and from the masts of shipping. Tents and marquees were
pitched along the line and dotted the green of Canonicut, Rose Island,
Coaster's and Goat islands. Bayonets brightly and cannon duskily flashed
in the sun everywhere. Sentinels in white uniforms, black gaiters, and
woolen epaulets tramped in little paths of their own making. Officers in
white, splendidly gold-embroidered, with rich and elegant side-arms, put
to the blush such of our poor fellows as chanced in their camps. In
every shady spot groups of soldiers, gay and jovial, reclined on the
grass, chattering all together, or laughing at the witticism of the
company _gaillard_. The drum--the type military, which has scarcely
changed its form in three hundred years--was improvised into the
card-table. "_Ma fois_," "_paroles d'honneur_," "_sacres_" and "_milles
tonnerres_," flew thickly as bullets at Fontenoy.
[Illustration: MILITARY MAP OF RHODE ISLAND, 1778.]
A finer body of men had probably never taken the field. Many were
seasoned in the Seven Years' War. Perfectly disciplined, commanded by
generals of experience, they only asked to be led against the hereditary
enemy of France. Officers who had mounted guard at the Tuileries, and
had been intimate with crowned heads, embraced the campaign with the
careless vivacity of school-boys.
In the present region of old houses is a mansion having a high air of
respectability; it is situated at the corner of Clarke and Mary streets,
and known as the Vernon House. This was the _Quartier General_ of the
Count Rochambeau, one of the four supreme generals of France in those
days. The count was a brave old soldier, rather short in stature, rather
inclined to fat, with a humane soul and noble heart. He was hampered by
his instructions, and his army lost time here, to the vexation of
Washington, and chagrin, it is believed, of himself. Hear what he says
when teased by a younger soldier to begin the fighting:
"I owe it to the most scrupulous examination of my conscience,
that of about fifteen thousand men killed or wounded under my
orders in different grades and in the bloodiest actions, I have
not to reproach myself with having caused the death of a single
one to gratify my own ambition.
"LE VIEUX PERE ROCHAMBEAU."
[Illustration: LAFAYETTE.]
It was to Lafayette, burning with the desire to see his countrymen
signalize their coming otherwise than by balls, routs, and reviews, that
the letter was addressed. Rochambeau was under the orders of Washington,
yet many of his officers disliked being commanded by Lafayette, their
junior in military service, or by lawyers, blacksmiths, and
book-sellers.
[Illustration: BARON VIOMENIL.]
The career of M. de Ternay, admiral of the fleet, was soon ended. He
died in Newport, and was buried in Trinity Church-yard. One of
Rochambeau's staff-officers ascribes his death to chagrin in consequence
of having permitted five English ships to escape him without a general
engagement. These ships were then on their way to join Admiral Rodney.
It is certain he was openly denounced by many officers of rank for too
great caution. Rochambeau says:
"Newport, December 18th, 1780.
"I set out from here on the 12th to visit Boston and M.
Hancock, leaving here M. de Ternay with a slight fever, which
announced nothing serious. On the 16th, in the morning, I
received a courier from Baron de Viomenil, announcing his death
on the morning of the 15th. I returned at once, and reached
here yesterday evening."
A mural tablet of black marble inscribed with golden letters was sent
from France. The admiral's grave happening not to be contiguous to the
church or church-yard wall, a wall was built to support the slab. Since
then it has been removed to the vestibule of Trinity Church, and a
granite stone, at the instance of the Marquis de Noailles, has replaced
it above the grave. The first house, built in 1702, was succeeded in
1726 by the present edifice. An organ was presented by Bishop Berkeley,
whose infant daughter lies in the church-yard.
In March, 1781, Washington, accompanied by Lafayette, came to Newport,
and was received by Rochambeau in the Vernon House. The curious interest
with which the American general was regarded by his allies is
sufficiently evident in their accounts of him. He at once commanded all
their admiration and respect, and was perhaps their only ideal not
destroyed by actual contact. They still show the visitor the house in
Church Street where Washington led the dance with "the beautiful Miss
Champlin," and where the French officers, taking the instruments from
the musicians' hands, played the minuet, "A successful Campaign."
Another of the _noblesse_ of the army was the Viscount de Noailles, in
whose regiment Napoleon was afterward a subaltern. Two grateful tasks
fell to his share in the war. As ambassador to England, he delivered to
Lord Weymouth intelligence of the alliance and acknowledgment of the
independence of the thirteen States. His manner was said to have been
very offensive, and considered tantamount to a challenge. An equally
agreeable duty devolved upon him as one of the commissioners to arrange
the capitulation of Yorktown.
[Illustration: TRINITY CHURCH.]
The alliance was a bitter draught for England. She offered, in 1781, to
cede Minorca to Russia if the empress would effect a peace between
France, Spain, and herself; but stipulated that there should be an
express condition that the French should immediately evacuate Rhode
Island and every other part of his Majesty's colonies in America; "no
stipulation or agreement whatever to be made with regard to H. M.
rebellious subjects, who could never be suffered to treat through the
medium of a foreign power."
[Illustration: CHASTELLUX.]
The Dutch republic, influenced by John Adams, having declared for the
alliance, England demanded satisfaction. Then Frederick the Great got
his "dander" up. Said he, "Puisque les Anglais veulent la guerre avec
tout le monde, ils l'auront" (Since the English wish war with all the
world, they shall have it). So much for him who was then called in the
court circles of Europe "Le Vieux de la Montagne" (Old Man of the
Mountain). Spain was arming. England continued to ply the empress
through her favorite and debauchee, Potemkin. Russia, as head of the
Northern League, now held the key of European politics. Potemkin was too
adroit for British diplomacy. It is believed he had a secret
understanding with the French ambassador, as the doctors whom Moliere
makes say to each other, "Passez-moi la rhubarbe et je vous passerai le
sene."
In this same year, 1781, the mediating powers, Russia and Austria,
proposed an armistice for a year, during which hostilities were to be
suspended and peace negotiated. The American colonies were to be
admitted to this arrangement, and no treaty signed in which they were
not included. Lord Stormont, in notifying the refusal of England to this
proposal, declining any intervention between herself and her colonies,
pointed out that, in the then state of the struggle in America, a
suspension of hostilities would be fatal to the success of his Majesty's
arms.
England could not disentangle the knot of European politics, and
Yorktown brought her to her knees. Many of the Continental powers openly
rejoiced at her humiliation; Catharine could scarcely dissemble her joy.
The news reached London on Sunday, November 25th. Lord Walsingham, who
had been under-secretary of state, happened to be with Lord Germain when
the messengers arrived. Without mentioning the disaster to any other
persons, the two peers took a hackney-coach and drove to Lord
Stormont's, in Portland Place. Imparting their intelligence, his
lordship joined them, and they proceeded to the chancellor's, where,
after a short consultation, it was determined they would communicate it
in person to Lord North. The first minister's firmness, and even his
presence of mind, gave way under this crushing blow. He is represented
as having received it "as he would have taken a ball in his breast, for
he opened his arms, exclaiming wildly, as he paced up and down the
apartment, 'O God! it is all over!'"
The American is now living who will see justice done the memory of
George III. He was neither a bad king nor a bad man. Like his
antagonist, Louis Seize, he was possessed of strong good sense, which
accounts, perhaps, says one, for the decapitation of Louis by the
French. A well-informed authority attributes the insanity of George
III. to the revolt of his American colonies. Just as he was taken ill,
in 1788, he said, after the last levee he held, to Lord Thurlow, who was
advising him to take care of himself, and return to Windsor, "You, then,
too, my Lord Thurlow, forsake me and suppose me ill beyond recovery; but
whatever you and Mr. Pitt may think or feel, I, that am born a
gentleman, shall never lay my head on my last pillow in peace and quiet
as long as I remember the loss of my American colonies."[288]
[Illustration: LAUZUN.]
But to come back to our Frenchmen. Of others whose sabres and spurs have
clanked or jingled on the well-worn door-stone of the Vernon House was
Biron, better known as the _roue_ Lauzun. There being no forage on the
island, Lanzun's cavalry and the artillery horses were sent for the
winter to Lebanon, Connecticut, a place the duke compares to Siberia.
Lauzun had the talents that seduce men as well as women. Traveled,
speaking English well, gay and audacious, he was among men the model of
a finished gentleman, and among women the type of such dangerous
raillery that many, in order to control him, gave the lie to the
proverb, "We hate whom we fear."
At Berlin Lauzun had been a prodigious favorite with Frederick. His
connection with the Duke d'Orleans (Egalite) proved his ruin. At
forty-six, having unsuccessfully commanded the republican armies in La
Vendee, he was guillotined in 1793. Mademoiselle Laurent, his mistress,
attended him to the last. He would not let his hands be tied. "We are
both Frenchmen," said he to the executioner; "we shall do our duty."
Thus _exit_ Biron, capable of every thing, good for nothing.
[Illustration: MATHIEU DUMAS.]
The elegant and accomplished Marquis Chastellux, whose _petits soupers_
at Newport were the talk of every one who had the good fortune to be
invited, and whose "Travels in America," partly printed on board the
French fleet, are so charmingly written; the brave Baron Viomenil,
second in command, distinguished for gallantry at Yorktown; headlong
Charles Lameth, who fought the young Duke de Castries in the Bois de
Boulogne; Mathieu Dumas, aid to Rochambeau, and afterward fighting at
Waterloo, were prominent figures in an army pre-eminent among armies for
the distinction of its leaders.
La Peyrouse, in October, made his escape through the English blockade
during a severe gale, in which his vessel was dismasted; though,
fortunately, not until the enemy had given up the chase. He carried with
him Rochambeau's son, charged with an account of the conference at
Hartford and the necessities of the Americans.
[Illustration: DEUX-PONTS.]
Berthier, the military confidant of Napoleon, was of this army. He
embarked for America, a captain of dragoons in the regiment of Lorraine,
and here won the epaulets of a colonel. There were also two brothers
serving under the name of Counts Deux-Ponts. One of them, Count
Christian Deux-Ponts, was captured by Nelson, while on a boat excursion
with several friends, off Porto Cavallo. Southey, in his "Life of Lord
Nelson," says he was a prince of the German Empire, and brother to the
heir of the Electorate of Bavaria. Nelson, then a young captain, after
giving his prisoners a good dinner, released them.[289]
[Illustration: DE BARRAS.]
It would require a broad muster-roll merely to enumerate the
distinguished of Rochambeau's expeditionary army. I have not yet
mentioned De Broglie, Vauban, Champcenetz, Chabannes, De Melfort, and
Talleyrand; nor De Barras, La Touche, and La Clocheterie; nor Desoteux,
leader of Chouans in the French Revolution. To have withstood the
assaults of so much wit, gallantry, and condescension, Newport must have
been a city of vestals; yet, according to the good Abbe Robin, his
countrymen gave few examples of that gallantry for which their nation is
famed. One remarkable instance of a wife reclaimed, when on the point of
yielding to the seductions of an epauleted stranger, is related by him.
The story has a fine moral for husbands as well as wives.
The expected arrival of this army spread terror in Newport. The French
had been represented as man-eaters, whereas they were only frog-eaters.
The country was deserted, and those whom curiosity had brought to
Newport encountered nobody in the streets. Rochambeau landed in the
evening. These fears were soon dissipated by the exact discipline
enforced in the camps. They tell of pigs and fowls passing unmolested,
and of fields of corn standing untouched in their midst.
Beautiful Miss Champlin, charming Redwood, the _distingue_ Misses
Hunter, and the Quaker vestal, Polly Lawton, are names escaped to us
from the memoirs of Gallic admirers; yet there was only a single
suicide in the French ranks justly chargeable to an American love
account;[290] and this did not occur in Newport.
One of the French regiments at Yorktown was as famous in Old-World
annals as any battalion that ever stood under arms. This was the
regiment of Auvergne. Wherever men might march, Auvergne was seen or
heard. Once, when in the advance of the army--it was always there--one
of its captains, sent out to reconnoitre, was surrounded in the darkness
by foes. A hundred bayonets were leveled at his breast. "Speak above a
whisper and you die," said the German officer. Captain D'Assas saw
himself in the midst of a multitude of enemies, who were stealthily
approaching his weary and unsuspecting comrades. In an instant his
resolution was taken. Raising himself to his full height, that he might
give his voice greater effect, he cried out, "A moi, Auvergne! voila les
ennemis!"[291] and fell dead as the French drums beat "To arms!" The
regiment was very proud of its motto, "_Sans tache_."
[Illustration: LATOUR D'AUVERGNE.]
In this regiment was Philip d'Auvergne, "the first grenadier of France,"
of whose prowess stories are told. When the corps came to America its
name had been changed to Gatinais, whereat there was much grumbling
among these aged mustaches. There were two redoubts at Yorktown to be
taken. One was assigned to Lafayette and his Americans, the other to the
French. The grenadiers of Gatinais were to lead this attack; and, as it
was expected to be bloody, Rochambeau himself addressed them. "My
friends," said he, "if I should want you this night, I hope you have
not forgotten that we have served together in that brave regiment of
Auvergne, '_Sans Tache_.'" "Promise, general, to give us back our old
name, and we will suffer ourselves to be killed, to the last man." The
promise was given, the redoubt won, and King Louis confirmed the pledge.
In token of its peerless valor Washington presented the regiment with
one of the captured cannon.
The comfortable and contented lives of the French soldiers daily
astonished our poor and tattered, but unconquerable ragamuffins. At
parade they appeared so neat and gentleman-like as hardly to be
distinguished from their officers. They were paid every week, and seemed
to want for nothing. No sentinel was allowed to stand on his post
without a warm watch-coat to cover him. The officers treated their
soldiers with attention, humanity, and respect, neglecting no means of
inculcating sentiments of honor. Stealing was held by them in
abhorrence. As a consequence, punishments were extremely rare,
desertions unfrequent, and the health of the troops excellent.
Speculations more or less unfavorable to French disinterestedness, more
or less destructive of American enthusiasm for the alliance, must arise
from a knowledge of the secret policy of France in coming to the aid of
democracy. Possibly she hoped for the reconquest of Canada. Rochambeau
would have first employed his forces against Castine, had he not been
overruled. That would have been curious, indeed, to have seen France
re-established at old Pentagoet, carrying war into Canada, as, more than
a century previous and from the same vantage-ground, she had carried it
into New England. Not much later she tried to wheedle and then to bully
us into ceding to her the island of Rhode Island, in order, as urged by
her, to prevent its being seized again at any future time by Great
Britain. Her armed intervention was of little worth compared with the
moral effect of the alliance.
Pierre du Guast had groped his way along the coast in 1605, seeking a
habitation. He, and his lieutenant, Poutrincourt, had well-nigh reached
their goal when compelled to turn back, baffled, for wintry Acadia. A
French colony, in 1605, upon Aquidneck might have changed the order of
history, and rendered impossible the events of which this chapter is the
skeleton.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[285] British ambassador at St. Petersburg, afterward Lord Malmesbury.
[286] Massachusetts Files.
[287] Heath then commanded at Providence: he was ordered to meet
Rochambeau on his arrival, and extend any assistance in his power.
[288] The manner and matter of his reception of Mr. Adams were equally
those of gentleman and king. Contrast him with the Prince Regent, and
his remark to the French ex-minister, Calonne, during his father's
sudden illness, in 1801: "Savez-vous, Monsieur de Calonne, que mon pere
est aussi fou que jamais?" (Do you know, Monsieur de Calonne, that my
father is as crazy as ever?) Thackeray could not do him justice.
[289] The fellow-prisoner of Count Christian Deux-Ponts was an Irishman,
named Lynch, who belonged also to Rochambeau's army. Fearful that his
nationality might be discovered, he begged the count to be on his guard.
When at table, and heated with wine, the secret was divulged by the
count; but Nelson, as Segur relates, pretended not to have heard it.
[290] That of Major Galvan, who pistoled himself on account of
unrequited love.
[291] Rally, Auvergne! here is the enemy!
[Illustration: GRAVES ON THE BLUFF, FORT ROAD.]