latitude. The surface of the ground was frozen, and nothing was so unusual
as for travelers to be abroad on the highways. In the little village of
Wakefield, in Washington County, were a few huts of the early settlers of
that region. In one of these, at the hour of ten, were two young men
greatly absorbed in a game of backgammon. A fire of logs and pine knots
burned in the wide fireplace, the village was quiet in slumber, and
perhaps the light seen through the chinks of the cabin was the only one
visible in the village. These young men engaged in the game, heard the
sounds of horses' feet rapidly approaching their cabin. Someone halting in
front of the cabin, in which the young men sat, a voice hailed, and on
opening the door, the light revealed two mounted men, one of whom asked
where the tavern was, and then how far it was to the home of Colonel
Hinson. They were told that the home was seven miles away, the road rough
and dark, and that a dangerous stream intervened. As the two travelers sat
on their horses with the light of the cabin falling fully on them, one was
seen to be much more than an ordinary man because of the character of his
language, his striking face, and the evident anxiety expressed in an
unusual way, and while he wore a slouched hat and the garb of a common
farmer, his exquisite boots and superb horse revealed the discrepancy in
the conditions.
Notwithstanding the advice of the young man not to undertake the hazard
of finding the home of the Hinsons, on a dark night like that one, the
travelers got their information and rode away. The two young men in the
cabin were Nicholas Perkins, a lawyer, and Thomas Malone, a clerk in the
local court. After the travelers had gone, and the young men were again in
the cabin, Perkins expressed the opinion that the man of unusual
appearance was Aaron Burr, as it exactly suited the description given in
the proclamations, and proposed that they follow him and procure his
arrest.
At the suggestion, Malone demurred, saying that it was not particularly
their business, the night was severely cold, and it was absurd to be
chasing a stranger on a bare suspicion, through the cold darkness and at
the risk of their lives. But Perkins was not so easily daunted, and met
each objection in a vigorous way. However, Malone could not be enlisted in
the effort, and Perkins sallied forth in search of the sheriff, Theodore
Brightwell, with whom he was soon on horseback, and they were making their
way to Colonel Hinson's. Meanwhile Burr and his companion had reached
Hinson's about twelve o'clock. Colonel Hinson was absent, and in response
to the hailing at the gate, Mrs. Hinson glanced through the window, saw
two men mounted, and went back to bed without responding. The travelers
alighted, went into the kitchen, where a fire was still burning, and were
warming themselves, when the sheriff, a relative of Mrs. Hinson, walked
into the kitchen, having left Perkins on the roadside to await his return,
as Perkins deemed it imprudent to show himself after having been talked
to in Wakefield. Burr partly concealed his face with his handkerchief, and
at first was the only occupant of the kitchen, as his companion had gone
with the horses to a stable.
After a few hurried words, the sheriff aroused Mrs. Hinson, a supper was
improvised, the strangers began eating, Burr was affable and chatty, was
profuse in apology for the unseasonable interruption, and complimentary of
the excellent supper. The sheriff had prepared Mrs. Hinson to ascertain,
if possible, if either man was Burr, and while the sheriff stood over the
fire, with his back to the company, and after Burr had retired to the
kitchen, she asked his companion if she did not have the distinction of
entertaining Colonel Burr. In much confusion, the companion arose without
a word of reply, and joined Burr in the kitchen.
The sheriff rejoined them, engaged in conversation, and soon all were
abed. The next morning, Burr expressed his disappointment at not meeting
Colonel Hinson, and, strange to say, was soon mounted, together with the
sheriff and his companion, the sheriff proposing to show the travelers the
way out of the country, and well on toward Pensacola.
Meantime, Perkins was left to his fate in the cold. Finding toward morning
that the sheriff apparently did not intend to return, Perkins made his way
to Fort Stoddard by a rapid ride to the river, where he obtained a boat,
and engaged a negro to row it down the river. The fort was reached about
daybreak, Perkins notified Captain Gaines, the commander, of all that had
taken place, and at sunrise, a troop were in their saddles, following
Gaines and Perkins toward the road leading to Pensacola. About nine
o'clock they met the three men on horseback--Burr, his companion, and
Sheriff Brightwell. They were in fine spirits, and were chatting in a
jocular way, when suddenly they were confronted by a troop of government
cavalry. Burr at once recognized Perkins as the young man to whom he had
talked the night before in the village of Wakefield. Then came a
juncture.
BURR'S ARREST
With the glance of his eagle eye, Burr took in the situation at once, and
in a moment was prepared for it. Captain Gaines saluted him, and asked if
he had the honor of addressing Colonel Burr. Polite as the salutation was,
Burr feigned great indignation in denying the right of a stranger to ask a
question so impolite, of a traveler on the highway. Gaines cut short the
tactics of the occasion by saying: "I arrest you at the instance of the
Federal Government." In a burst of indignation, Burr again demanded to
know his right and authority to arrest a traveler going in pursuit of
private affairs on the public highway. In a perfectly cool way, Gaines
replied that he was an officer of the army in possession of the
proclamations of the governor of Mississippi, and of the President of the
United States, directing his arrest. Burr reminded Gaines that though he
was an officer, he was young and inexperienced, and might not be aware of
the responsibility incurred in arresting strangers, to all which Gaines
replied that he was willing to assume the responsibility, and would do his
duty.
Heated by the obstinate coolness and evident determination of the young
officer, Burr began to denounce the proclamation, as expressions of
resentment and of malevolence, without justification, and resumed his
advice of warning to Gaines of the hazard he was incurring by an undue
interference of strangers on a public road. With iron coolness, Gaines
ended the colloquy by telling Burr that his mind was made up, and he
wished to treat him in a manner becoming his high office as vice president
of the United States, all of which would be duly respected so long as Burr
conducted himself becomingly, but that he would have to take him a
prisoner to Fort Stoddard. Burr sat, and his eyes blazed while he looked
at Gaines. Without further ceremony, Gaines moved with an order to his
men, and Burr submitted.
The conduct of Sheriff Brightwell was never explained. He had left Perkins
the night before on the edge of the road some distance from the Hinson
home, did not arrest Burr, and was now on his way with Burr to Carson's
Ferry, on the Tombigbee, to enable Burr to get to Mobile and make his way
to Pensacola. Was the sheriff awed by the commanding presence of the
distinguished man, unduly persuaded, thrown off of his guard by seductive
and misleading logic, or was he influenced by the fact that his kinsman,
Colonel Hinson, had some months before met Burr at Natchez, was charmed by
him, and had invited him to his home to spend some time, or was there a
bribe involved in the transaction?
Burr was taken to Fort Stoddard, where he was intent on making himself
most agreeable by his courtly manner and pleasing address, and whiled away
the days playing chess with Mrs. Gaines, the wife of the man who arrested
him, and the daughter of Judge Harry Toulmin of Mobile. Burr was
especially intent on showing every possible kindness to a brother of the
commander at the fort, which brother was an invalid. Indeed, he won the
hearts of all by his affableness and cheeriness of disposition.
Meanwhile, preparations were on foot to convey the noted prisoner to
Richmond, Va., for trial. When the arrangements were completed, Burr was
sent by boat up the Alabama River, along the banks of which curious crowds
had gathered, to catch a glimpse of the notorious captive, among whom were
many women, who when they saw him a helpless prisoner, some of them burst
into weeping, and one of them was so fascinated by his manner and conduct,
that she afterward named a son for him.
At a point called "The Boat Yard," Burr was consigned to the care of eight
selected men, who were to escort him across the country on horseback to
Richmond for trial. Two of the guard were of the federal cavalry, all were
cool and determined men, and the guard was placed under the command of
Nicholas Perkins, the young man who had procured his arrest.
Burr was dressed in the same garb which he wore when arrested, a
round-about homespun coat, a pair of copperas trousers, and a sloughed
beaver hat, once white, but now very dingy, which drooped at points, and a
pair of dainty boots. A gaping crowd was present to see the departure, and
as Burr mounted his horse to ride away, he lifted his hat in a manner so
graceful as to waken a rousing cheer. He rode the same horse on which he
was captured, and his equestrian appearance and qualities were superb. A
tent was provided for his comfort, and at night while it was closely
guarded, and while the wolves howled in the neighboring woods, he would
sleep with all the comfort that a camp could afford. The party passed up
through the counties of Monroe, Butler, Montgomery, thence to the
Chattahoochee. The two federal soldiers rode closely beside him, and when
entering a swamp, the entire party would gather close about him.
Among the incidents of the journey was that of a tavern-keeper just beyond
the Chattahoochee, who on learning that the party, which had stopped at
his rural hostelry for the night, had come from the region of the Tensas,
quizzed his guests with many questions, and to the embarrassment of all,
turned his loquacity toward the rumor that had reached him of the arrest
of "that dangerous scoundrel, Aaron Burr," and wished to know if they knew
anything of it. All present dropped their heads in confusion, but Burr,
who fixed his flashing eyes on the garrulous fellow, and when the
innkeeper began his denunciation of Burr, saying what he would like to do
for him if he could "lay eyes on him," Burr straightened up with his full
of fire eyes and said, "I am Aaron Burr, now what'll you have?" The
tavern-keeper vanished in a moment, and his lips were hermetically sealed
till the party left, while his attentions were most profuse.
Burr made but one effort to escape. In South Carolina, where lived his
son-in-law, Col. Joseph Alston, who was afterward governor of South
Carolina, Burr felt that he was somewhat known, and one afternoon late, as
the squad approached Chester Courthouse, and was passing the tavern, where
a large crowd was gathered, Burr leaped from his horse, and exclaimed, "I
am Aaron Burr, gentlemen, under military arrest, and claim the protection
of the civil authorities." Perkins and several of the guard dismounted,
and ordered him to remount his horse, which he defiantly declined to do,
when Perkins threw his arms about him and flung him into his saddle, and
the party galloped away. The crowd looked on with wonder, and to them it
was only a strange proceeding of a prisoner under guard who was seeking to
escape, and the sensation turned out to be merely momentary. A vehicle was
bought, Burr was placed in it with a guard, and no further trouble was had
to the end of the journey.
A DREAM OF EMPIRE
The fall of Napoleon at Waterloo, created consternation in the ranks of
his adherents. In rejoining him after his return from Elba, they had
staked all on his attempt to regain the empire. When he fell, his
supporters were in a worse plight than was he. A number of the best were
shot, among them Marshal Ney, while many others fled penniless to
different parts of the earth, among whom was a large and respectable body
who came to America. These included Marshal Grouchy, who was charged with
being the occasion of the defeat at Waterloo, and others whose names will
appear in this narrative. This body of refugees sailed for America, where
they hoped to build a miniature empire in a remote quarter of the American
continent, with such construction that while they would be able to imitate
their life in France, by having their own local laws, they would at the
same time bring themselves into practical conformity to the constitution
of the United States. We shall see how fully their dream was realized.
Once in America, they elicited the aid and co-operation of a Dr. Brown, of
Kentucky, who had spent much time in France, knew the French people, and
was endeared to them. Dr. Brown acted as an interagent between the French
and the Federal Government in the introduction of the cause of the
refugees. That which they sought was the utmost confines of western
occupation, for two reasons, one of which was because of the cheapness of
the land, and the other was because of its segregation. At that time the
Tombigbee was that western boundary. Here was to be established a new
France, with its growth of olive trees and grape vines. To the ardent
French this was a rosy dream, and on these western borders they saw in
vision, mansions and palaces, spacious grounds, and the affluence of gay
society to which they were accustomed in their own brilliant capital on
the Seine. Dreams like these heartened the host and eclipsed all care and
worry, and banished the prick of ills to which they were destined to be
subjected. Arriving at Philadelphia, they lingered for many months during
the negotiations with the American Government for a domain of land on the
distant Tombigbee. They commissioned a French statesman, Nicholas S.
Parmentier, as their agent to consummate the plan. There was accordingly
adopted a bill by the American congress in March, 1818, granting to these
refugees four townships fronting on the Black Warrior River, in the
present County of Marengo. This land was sold at $2 an acre, payable
within fourteen years, provided the olive and the vine were produced. The
land was divided by themselves, as a stock company, each one of the three
hundred and fourteen families taking quantities of from eighty to four
hundred and eighty acres. In contemplation of a town to be built, there
was assigned additionally to each head of a family, a lot within the
proposed city, and one on the suburbs.
With this arrangement completed, the novel colony was to sail at once and
occupy it. Accordingly a schooner, the McDonough, was chartered to convey
the company, numbering about one thousand five hundred in all, to Mobile,
when they were to make their way up the river to their final destination.
With their varied household effects, the vivacious French set sail from
Philadelphia in April, 1818, and for more than a month, slowly sailed down
the coast of the Atlantic.
During the following May, late one afternoon, Lieutenant Beal, the
commander of Fort Bowyer, near Mobile, saw in the distance, a vessel
wrestling with a gale which was sweeping that quarter of the sea. Through
his glass, the commander could see the direction in which the vessel was
bearing, while sorely tossed by the wind, which was blowing at a fearful
velocity. The captain of the McDonough had a chart which was out of date,
and Beal saw that the vessel was heading rapidly toward danger. He fired a
cannon as an alarm gun, hoping thereby to arrest the erroneous course of
the vessel. The day was now far advanced, and darkness settled over the
face of the sea. Beal took the precaution to erect lights along the shore,
and some time after night, he heard the signals of distress from the
unfortunate McDonough.
While the wind was still very high and fierce, Beal did not think that the
vessel should be left to its fate, and called for those who would
volunteer to go with him in as large boat as they had at command, to the
rescue of those on the vessel. The McDonough had struck, and was lying in
the thick gloom at the mercy of the waves, in the sand into which an
obsolete chart had directed the captain. Accompanied by five brave men,
Beal plunged into the darkness with the boat, and guided by the dim
lights of the vessel, he was enabled to reach it somewhat after midnight.
Everything on board the vessel was in commotion, as every fresh wave
threatened to engulf it, but Beal coolly proposed to save, if he could,
the women and children, whom he crowded into his boat and set out on his
return toward the fort through the dense gloom. After much struggle the
boat was safely brought to the fort, and the women and children were
saved. Luckily the vessel was later released by the waves from its
perilous condition in the sand, and in the early morning was washed into
deeper water, and though crippled by the accident, was saved, and in due
time pulled into port at Fort Bowyer. There was great glee and sport among
the French after it was all over, as they would joke each other with that
which happened. They soon forgot the seriousness of the situation to which
they were only a few hours before exposed, and gave themselves again to
jollity and song.
In expression of their just gratitude to the brave lieutenant who had been
the occasion of so much timely aid, they proposed to take him with them to
Mobile, and give him a banquet. This was accordingly done, vivacity ran
high amidst sparkling wines and merriment unconfined, and the gay throng
in the banquet hall little resembled a colony driven by disaster from
their native land, and so recently exposed to death.
At Mobile, the McDonough was dismissed, and plans were at once adopted to
provide flatboats and barges to convey the company up the winding
Tombigbee to their future home among the wilds of Western Alabama. Of
their future experiences we shall hear later.
THE TRIP AND SETTLEMENT
It was a gay and mirthful throng that was gathered on board the rough
flatboats, at the wharf of Mobile, on the morning of the departure of the
French for their settlement far up along the Tombigbee. One would have
thought that it was a huge picnic party instead of a people fleeing from
oppression, with all the novelties of an untamed region to be grappled
with. Distinguished French generals were among them, men who had for years
shared in the bloody campaigns of Napoleon. There were also eminent men of
science, educators, merchants, and statesmen, with their wives and
children. The delicate French women still wearing their Parisian styles,
and beautifully dressed children, young men and women, and a few servants
constituted the multitude now slowly pulling out from Mobile for a long
and torturous trip up the river. More incongruous conditions can scarcely
be imagined.
In those primitive days before the use of steam, the barges had to be
heavily dragged against the upstream current by the use of long poles
planted into the bank of the stream from the stern of the vessel, while at
the same time long poles with iron beaks were used from the bow, by being
fastened to trees or projecting rocks. The proceeding was torturous
enough, but nothing dampened the ardency of these effervescent French, and
every incident was turned into a fresh outburst of jollity, and
seriousness was tossed to the winds.
At night, they would build their campfires on the bank of the river in
the edge of the primitive forests, and after the evening meal, the violin,
guitar and the accordion would be brought into requisition to repel dull
care, and regale themselves on the tedious passage. The wild flowers were
in bloom, and the early fruits were already ripening in the woods, and not
infrequently the company would stop at some inviting point and spend a day
picking flowers and fruits, romping the woods, and frolicking.
Thus wore away two or three months during which they were making their way
from Mobile to the present site of Demopolis. They were not without
competent guides, of course, to direct them to the point of their future
homes on the wild prairies, and when the junction of the Tombigbee and the
Black Warrior was reached they landed on the white, chalky banks to begin
life on the frontier. Along the bank for some distance were strewn their
household goods, of every conceivable article--oval-topped trunks with big
brass tacks, carpetbags, chests of divers colors and of varied size,
bundles carefully wrapped, demijohns, military saddles, swords,
epaulettes, sashes, spurs, bandboxes, violins, guitars, and much else that
made up the medley of more than three hundred families, who were about to
enter on a wilderness life on the prairies of West Alabama.
They had provided themselves with a few tents, which were promptly brought
into use, while improvised habitations were at first constructed of the
tall canes which grew wild along the river, and of the lithe saplings cut
from the clumps of trees which dotted here and there the prairie over. The
prairies were now in their floral beauty, while the young, tender cane
was just springing, undermatted with luxuriant grass, with here and there
a dash of wild strawberries. In dry weather the surface of the land was
flinty with abounding fissures, while during the rainy season it was
converted into a soft, waxy, black mud. These bright and pretty French
women, used to the gilded salons and festive scenes of Paris, found a
complete reversal of conditions in this wild and inhospitable region, but
their native joviality never forsook them. Novelties and mistakes were
turned into laughter, and roughness into cheeriness. They would promptly
adjust themselves to conditions, and would meet them with burst after
burst of jollity. They shared in the sentiment expressed by the trivial
John Gay, who wrote:
"Life is a jest, and all things show it,
I thought so once, and now I know it."
Donning their dainty garbs, these unconquerable French women did not
hesitate to cook, wash, iron, hoe in their gardens and yards, or join
their husbands in efforts of a more serious nature, in tillage, and in the
erecting of log houses. Their lightness of heart was a cordial in the
conditions of actual gloom which sometimes confronted them, but they would
never repine, and would decline to take conditions seriously.
The personnel of this novel colony was most interesting. Marshal Groughy
was classed by them with that segment of society called by Mr. Roosevelt
"undesirable citizens," because of the affair at Waterloo, and was left
behind in Philadelphia, though he was one of the allottees of the land
procured, but got another to occupy it for him. The stigma of the defeat
of Waterloo was his, and this made him most unpopular. But Count
Desnoettes, who was a cavalry general in Napoleon's army, and a great
favorite with the Emperor, was of the colony. Napoleon loved Desnoettes
because of his fighting qualities, and because of his exceeding
attractiveness of person. He accompanied Bonaparte on the memorable
retreat from Russia, and when the French officers were gathered at
Fontainebleau, on the eve of Napoleon's departure to Elba, and all were
weeping, he embraced Desnoettes, saying that he would avail himself of
this means of bidding all farewell.
Penier was a distinguished statesmen; Colonel Raoul was a distinguished
cavalry fighter, who had accompanied Napoleon in his exile to Elba, and
afterward led the advance guard on the return of the Emperor to France
after escaping from his island imprisonment. Madame Raoul was a handsome
Italian woman, a native of Naples. Cluis was one of the aids of Marshal
Lefebvre; Chaudoin was a French poet of note; Clausel was a count;
L'Allemand was a lieutenant general of artillery under Napoleon; Lackonel
was a savant, who was at the head of the department of education, in the
empire, during the regime of Napoleon, together with others of equal note.