AN ATTEMPTED RESCUE
The hope that potentates and governments might take up the cause of
Lafayette began to fail and other plans were made. Chivalric dreams of
going to seek the place where he was confined and effect what seemed the
impossible--a personal rescue--began to haunt the minds of daring youths.
A letter is on record from a young man who wrote to Washington to ask if
he might not have permission to go and seek Lafayette, and, if possible,
conduct him and his family to America. Washington told him that all was
being done that could be done, and that personal attempts would only
result in failure. But there was another enterprising soul who did not
wait for permission--he acted upon his own initiative. The story of that
splendid young American must now be told.
Francis Kinloch Huger was the first child that Lafayette saw after he
landed in America. It will be remembered that the little company of
adventurers first touched shore on the country estate of Major
Benjamin Huger, at Prospect Hill, near Charleston, South Carolina.
Here Lafayette was received hospitably and sent on in his host's
carriage to Charleston.
The child Francis was then five years old and was the young representative
of a remarkable family of Huguenot extraction. The first Daniel Huger
came from Loudon, France, soon after the Edict of Nantes, and his
descendants to-day number six thousand; among them are found a large
number of distinguished names. Five Huger brothers held important
positions in Revolutionary times. Three served in the war; Brigadier
General Isaac Huger was second in command to General Greene at Guilford
Court House; Lieutenant Colonel Frank Huger was promoted from Moultrie's
Regiment to be Quartermaster General of the Southern Army of the
Revolution; and Major Benjamin Huger, Lafayette's host and the father of
the child Francis, was killed in 1780 before the lines at Charleston. Of
the other two brothers in this remarkable family group, Daniel was one of
Governor Rutledge's Privy Council and later a member of Congress, and
John was on the Council of Safety and Secretary of State.
The boy Francis thus came from a stock of stalwart men. He was eight
years old when his father was killed at Charleston. The pity of it was
driven into his young soul when the ignominy of that defeat was
accomplished.
Immediately after that event young Huger was sent to England to
acquire a medical education. Later he, as the custom was, went on his
travels and to hear lectures at great seats of learning. But the
passion for chivalric action that was inspiring youth everywhere he
could not quell. He dreamed of finding Lafayette.
Meantime, American, English, and French friends of the illustrious
prisoner were busy in London, and they had commissioned the "Hanoverian
doctor," known as Dr. Bollman, to make a search for him. This man made
careful preparations. He traveled in a leisurely way through Germany in
the guise of a wealthy and philanthropic physician. He let it be known
that he was a sort of follower of Cagliostro, a notorious Italian whose
ideas were popular at the time. He treated the poor free of charge and
he showed a special interest in prisoners.
At last he reached Olmütz, a journey at that time something like going
from New York to Nome. He made acquaintance with the attending physician
of the garrison and was invited to dinner. He in return asked the
surgeon to dine with him at his inn. The dinner was sumptuous. M. de
Colombe, who tells this part of the story, says that the wine was
especially excellent. No one could distrust a simple-hearted doctor, an
unselfish student of mankind, and especially one who ordered such
delicious wine! In time, conversation turned upon prisoners of note. It
was rumored, hinted the artful and ingenious doctor, that there was such
an one at Olmütz. Could this be true? It was even so, the unsuspecting
surgeon admitted; the great Lafayette was under his close care. The
doctor inquired for Lafayette's health and was told that it was fairly
good. Dr. Bollman ventured to send his compliments to the prisoner with
a message that he had lately left Lafayette's friends in England. The
unsuspecting surgeon carried the innocent message.
On another occasion he brought word that Lafayette would like to know
who those friends were. The doctor tried to speak the names, but could
not pronounce them so that the Austrian could understand them. He felt
in his pocket for a bit of paper (which he had carefully placed there
beforehand) and on it wrote the names which he sent to Lafayette.
These words also were written on the paper:
"If you read this with as much care as did your friend at Magdeburg,
you will receive equal satisfaction."
The reference was to a prisoner at Magdeburg who received a book which
contained messages written on the flyleaves in lemon juice. He held
the book to the fire and by doing this the written words came out in
brown lines and could be read. Lafayette took the hint, and discovered
the message written with this invisible ink on the bit of paper. After
this Bollman was allowed to lend Lafayette a book to read. It came
back with lemon-juice messages on its margins. Lafayette wrote that he
was sometimes allowed to drive, and as he was unknown to Bollman, he
suggested a signal by which he could be recognized. He said that his
lieutenant was a sheepish dolt, and that his corporal was covetous,
treacherous, and cowardly. He added that the rides were allowed for
the sake of his health. It appears that the government did not wish to
arouse the frenzy of indignation that would follow if Lafayette were
allowed to die in prison, so he was occasionally taken out to ride a
league or even two from the fortress gate. If a rescuer and a trusty
helper should appear, they could surely effect the escape. Lafayette
would agree to frighten the cowardly little corporal himself; they
need not provide a sword for him, for he would take the corporal's. An
extra horse, one or two horses along the road--it could easily be
done. It was a bold plan, but the bolder the plan, the more unexpected
it was, and the better chance of success. Every day he would watch for
them along the road.
After securing this definite information, the doctor retired to Vienna
to make further plans.
This account may be in some respects the later elaboration of a story
many times retold. But it sounds probable. At any rate, in some such
way Dr. Bollman gained communication with Lafayette's cell, and
brought the welcome news that friends were working for him. Then they
projected a plan.
The story is again taken up in a coffeehouse in Vienna where Bollman
is accustomed to go. Lafayette has suggested an assistant, and Bollman
realizes that he can do nothing without one. Therefore he is looking
about to find one who shall have spirit and fitness for the work. We
see him now at the supper table, eagerly conversing with a certain
young American, like himself a medical student on his travels.
Curiously enough, it is Francis Kinloch Huger, now twenty-one years
old. They talk of America. Bollman, with elaborate inadvertence,
touches on the personality of Lafayette. The young man relates his
childish memory of the arrival of that enthusiastic youth when he
first came ashore at his father's South Carolina country place.
Bollman tests Huger in various ways and makes up his mind that this is
the best possible person to help him. He broaches the subject. Young
Huger is only too ready--this very enterprise has been his dearest
thought and his dream. The danger does not daunt him. "He did not let
the grass grow under his feet," said his daughter years later, "but
accepted at once."
It was not, however, purely romantic sentiment with him; he did not
accede on the impulse of a moment. "I felt it to be my duty to give him
all the aid in my power," said Colonel Huger to Josiah Quincy many years
later. And though he may not have been conscious of it at the time,
there was still another reason, for he admitted, long afterwards, "I
simply considered myself the representative of the young men of America
and acted accordingly."
The story may here be taken up almost in the words of Colonel Huger's
daughter who wrote it down exactly as her father related it.
[Illustration: FRANCIS KINLOCH HUGER.
This bas-relief, by the sculptor R. Tait McKenzie, shows the
brave young American who, with Dr. Bollman, attempted to
rescue Lafayette from the great fortress of Olmütz.]
In October, 1794, they set out from Vienna in a light traveling carriage
and with two riding horses, one of them being strong enough to carry two
persons if necessary. They intended to appear in the characters of a
young Englishman and his traveling tutor, and they were provided with
passes for the long journey. With assumed carelessness they proceeded
toward Olmütz. The gentlemen were generally riding, while their servants
and the baggage were in the carriage. They went to the same inn where
Dr. Bollman had stayed on his former visit. Here they remained two days,
while they secretly sent a note to Lafayette and received his answer.
They paid their bill at the inn, sent their carriage on ahead to a
village called Hoff, and directed their servants to await them there.
Now Bollman and Huger are riding leisurely along the level plain that
surrounds the fortress. The huge, dark prison looms in the distance.
Every portion of the wide plain is visible to the sentinels at the
gates, and within reach of the cannon on the walls. It is market day
and many persons are passing back and forth. The two foreign travelers
look in every direction for the carriage which may bring Lafayette.
Both are eager for his coming.
At last they notice a small phaëton being driven slowly along. In the
carriage they see a prisoner in a blue greatcoat with an officer
beside him and an armed soldier riding behind. They spur on, and, as
they pass, the prisoner gives the sign agreed upon. He raises his hat
and wipes his forehead. The feelings excited by the assurance that
this was indeed Lafayette, Huger never to his dying day forgot. The
riders look as indifferent as possible, bow slightly, and pass on.
The phaëton stops at the side of the road and Lafayette alights. He
draws the officer toward a footpath that runs along the highroad at
that point, and appears to be leaning on the officer as if scarcely
able to walk.
"This must be the time," cries Bollman.
"He signs to us," says Huger in great excitement.
The two young men put spurs to their horses and dash up together. As
they approach, Lafayette seizes the officer's sword. A struggle
follows. Bollman leaps from his horse and throws the bridle to Huger.
But the flash of the drawn sword has frightened the horse; he dashes
aside and gallops away. Huger dismounts, passes his arm through his
bridle, and he and Bollman seize the soldier and tear his hands from
Lafayette's throat. The soldier runs toward the town, shouting and
waving his cap to call the attention of the sentinels.
What was to be done? They had now but one horse. The alarm had been
given. Not a minute could be lost.
Huger gave his horse to Lafayette and told him hurriedly to go to
Hoff, the rendezvous agreed upon. Lafayette mounted the horse and
started out. But he could not bear to leave his two rescuers in such a
plight, so he came back to ask if he could not do something for them.
"No, no!" they cried. "Go to Hoff! Go to Hoff!" they repeated. "We
will follow."
Now if they had said this in French, if they had said "Allez à Hoff,"
Lafayette would have understood the direction. But not knowing the
name of this near-by village, he misunderstood. He thought the English
words meant only "Go off!" A fatal misunderstanding!
Huger and Bollman soon released their officer and both mounted the
remaining horse. He was not used to "carrying double." The insulted
creature set his feet in a ditch and threw them both. Bollman was
stunned. Huger lifted him up and then started off to recover the
horse. On the way he was thinking what course he should take in this
critical and dangerous juncture.
When he came back he had decided. He said that Bollman should take the
horse and follow Lafayette, for Bollman knew German and could give
more help than he could. Alarm guns were beginning to be fired from
the battlements, and trains of soldiers were seen issuing from the
gates; but these portentous signs did not influence him. Bollman was
persuaded; he mounted, put spurs to his horse, and was soon out of
sight. Young America stood alone on this wide, dangerous plain; the
shadow of that ominous fortress fell gloomily on its border. The
guards came down. Between two rows of fixed bayonets Huger passed into
the fortress.
The bold plan was doomed to complete failure! Lafayette rode twenty
miles; but the blood on his greatcoat awakened suspicion; he was
arrested and carried back to Olmütz where a heavier and gloomier
imprisonment awaited him.
The same fate awaited Bollman; but Lafayette's despair was the deeper
because he feared that his brave rescuers had been executed for their
gallant attempt in his behalf.
The imprisonment accorded to the intrepid young American was as vile
and cruel as any devised in the Dark Ages. He was put in a cell almost
underground, with but one small slit near the top to let in a little
light. A low bench and some straw formed the furnishings, while two
chains linked him at ankle and wrist to the ceiling. To make things a
trifle more cheerful for him, they showed him a prisoner in a cell
which was only a walled hole in the ground! The prisoner had been
there for many years and his name and residence were now utterly
forgotten. The jailers also exhibited their expert method of swift
decapitation and acted out the method with a large two-bladed sword.
Daily questionings of a cruel kind were used in order to force him to
confess the truth--or rather what they wished to believe was the
truth--that he had been the agent of a widespread plot. He stated that
it was no man's plot but his own. They threatened torture, but he did
not flinch or change his statement.
At last the officers were convinced that there had been no concerted
plot. They then softened the rigors of Huger's imprisonment, gave him
a cell with a window where a star could sometimes be seen, and
lengthened his chains so that he could take as many as three whole
steps. After a time he managed to get into communication with Bollman
who was in the room above. With a knotted handkerchief Bollman lowered
a little ink in a walnut shell from his window, together with a scrap
of dingy paper. Huger then wrote a letter of a few lines only to
General Thomas Pinckney, then American Minister at London. His
entreaty was to let his mother know that he was still alive; also to
let Lafayette's friends know that he would certainly have escaped but
that he had been recognized as an Olmütz prisoner in a small town
where he changed his horse; and that he had already mounted a fresh
one when stopped. Huger's letter ended with the words, "Don't forget
us. F.K.H. Olmütz, Jan. 5th, 1795." By bribery and cajolery they
started this letter off.
Suffice it to say at present that, through the intervention of General
Pinckney, the two young men were finally released and made their way
swiftly out of the country. It was well that they hurried, for the
emperor decided they had been released too soon and sent an edict for
their rearrest. They had, however, by that time crossed the line and
were out of his domain.
After a short stay in London, Huger started for America. The passengers
on his ship discussed the story of Lafayette's attempted rescue through
the entire six weeks of the voyage, and they never dreamed that their
quiet young fellow-passenger was one of the rescuers until he received
an ovation on landing. This is related by the only member of the Huger
family living to-day (1916) who heard the story of the attempted rescue
from the lips of "Colonel Frank" himself, as the family affectionately
call him. She says that Colonel Frank was the most silent of men. He was
the kind that _do_ more than they _talk_.
When Huger reached Philadelphia, he called at once on President
Washington and told him of the effort he had made. The President said
that he had followed the whole course of events with the greatest
solicitude and had wished that it might have met with the success it
deserved.
In time Colonel Huger married the second daughter of General Thomas
Pinckney who had effected his release from Olmütz and under whom he
fought in the war of 1812; he had eleven children and made his home on
a large estate in the highlands of South Carolina. When Congress
presented Lafayette with an extensive section of land, he asked Huger
to share it with him. Colonel Huger thanked him for the generous
offer, but sturdily announced that he himself was able to provide for
his daughters and that his sons should look out for themselves. His
faith in his sons was justified, for they made good their father's
opinion of their ability. Among his children and grandchildren were
many who not only amassed goodly fortunes but held honored positions
in public and military affairs.
When Lafayette made his memorable visit to America in 1824, he said
that the one man in the country whom he most wished to see was the one
who when a youth had attempted to rescue him from Olmütz. Colonel
Huger had a corresponding desire to see Lafayette. On the General's
arrival he started north at once, reached New York, and sought out the
lodgings of Lafayette early in the morning, in order that their first
meeting might be entirely without interruption. No account of that
meeting has ever been made public, but the rescuer and his champion
were together most of the time during that patriotic journey. Josiah
Quincy once had the privilege of driving Colonel Huger in his coach
through the suburbs of Boston and of calling with him upon many
distinguished personages. Huger charmed and delighted every one.
Josiah Quincy said that he had that "charm of a high-bred southerner
which wrought with such peculiar fascination upon those inheriting
Puritan blood." Besides his attractive personality, there was the
romantic association with the attempted rescue. Scott's novels were
then in the full blossom of popularity; but there was no hero in all
those brave tales whose adventures appeared more chivalrous and
thrilling.
To be sure, the effort at rescue had resulted in failure. Lafayette
remained in prison. But it was known where he was, and, what was
better, word had been conveyed to him that he was not forgotten. Yet
the conditions of his imprisonment were now more severe than before,
and his mind must have suffered intensely from being thrown back upon
itself after that one hour's prospect of liberty.
On the way from Wesel to Magdeburg Lafayette had had a moment's
conversation with a stranger who told him something of what was
happening in Paris, and of the lawlessness and carnage of the Reign of
Terror. Lafayette saw to what lengths an unregulated mob might go,
even when originally inspired by a noble passion for liberty. He heard
of the death of Louis XVI, and called it an assassination. He realized
that these things were being done in France by the people in whom he
had so blindly, so persistently, believed. He was deeply disappointed.
Yet he did not quite lose faith. The cause of the people was still
sacred to him; they might destroy for him whatever charm there had
been in what he called the "delicious sensation of the smile of the
multitude"; but his belief in the ultimate outcome for democratic
government, as the best form of government for the whole world,
remained unchanged.
And in the prison at Olmütz he celebrated our great holiday, the
Fourth of July, as usual.