Departure from Mobile—Gulf of Mexico—Passage of the Balize—Landing at
the entrenchments near New Orleans—Entrance into the
city—Entertainments and Public Ceremonies—Battle of New Orleans.
The vessel on board of which we had retired, on leaving the ball, was
the Natchez, an excellent and handsome steam-boat, sent by the city of
New Orleans to transport the general from Mobile to the shores of the
Mississippi. An experienced captain, Mr. Davis, commanded her; she had
on board the Louisiania deputation, at the head of which was Mr.
Duplantier, an old friend and companion in arms of the general. At the
break of day, cannon were heard, at which signal we weighed anchor. The
general stationed on the deck, received the farewell of the citizens who
pressed in crowds to the shore, and testified their sorrow by expressive
gestures and a gloomy silence. In half an hour, the city of Mobile
disappeared from the horizon, which enlarged around us, and in a short
time the smoke of the artillery, tinged by the rays of the rising sun,
also became invisible. When night returned, it found us in the Gulf of
Mexico.
To reach New Orleans, we might choose between two routes; either behind
Dauphin, Horn, Dog, Ship, or Cat islands, traversing lakes Borgne and
Pontchartrain, and disembarking a few miles in the rear of the city, or
else boldly cross the gulf to the mouth of the Mississippi, pass the
Balize and ascend the river. Our captain, confident of the solidity of
his vessel, decided on the latter plan, which was not unattended with
danger, but it gained us a whole day. We soon repented of his
determination. A storm arose in a short time. The motion of the vessel
became so disagreeable that we were obliged to lie down to avoid the sea
sickness which attacked almost all of us. During the night, the wind
greatly augmented, and the waves became so high, that several of them
entering the ports, inundated the cabin and our beds. The noise of the
wind, waves, and engine, with the creaking of the vessel, were so
horrible, that we expected to founder every moment. At break of day I
ascended to the deck, from whence I beheld the most imposing and awful
spectacle; we arrived at the Balize. We could not avoid feeling a strong
emotion at the sight of this magnificent river, whose rapid stream and
prodigious breadth announced rather a conqueror than a tributary of the
ocean. Its waves repelling, to a great distance, those of the sea,
heaped on the low islands at its mouth, thousands of immense trunks of
trees, which, after having flourished for ages under the polar circle,
were now decaying under the burning sky of Mexico, and feeding a new
vegetation with their remains. Enormous alligators of a sinister
appearance and sluggish gait, attached to the floating trunks of trees,
menaced the navigator, and seemed to dispute the entrance of the river
with him. For a long time after we had entered the Mississippi we
thought ourselves in another sea, so distant are its shores, and so
tumultuous are its waves. It was not until after some hours that it
became sufficiently narrow for us to perceive its muddy banks, or that
the stream diminished in swiftness.
In the morning we passed fort Plaquemine, from which we were saluted
with thirteen guns, and night again surprised us before we could
perceive the walls of New Orleans. No variety in the vegetation is
perceptible for sixty miles from the Balize. Hitherto nothing was to be
seen but cypresses covered with the sombre tillandsia, called by the
natives of the country, Spanish beard. This parasitic plant, which forms
a long and dense drapery on the trees, has a more melancholy appearance,
from its only growing in countries subject to the yellow fever. It is
said to afford food to those animals which seek a shelter in the woods
during the winter. The inhabitants of Louisiana employ it to stuff
matrasses and cushions; for these purposes, after having washed it in an
alkaline solution, they beat it till the husk is detached; when it is
dry it has the appearance of long black hair. It is so durable as to be
considered incorruptible. It is employed with success in building, mixed
with mortar or tenacious earth.
About midnight, I went on deck for a short time; the night was dark, the
sky charged with thick clouds, and the air filled with a hoarse noise.
The batteries at New Orleans were then firing a salute of a hundred
guns, to announce that the day on which the guest of the nation would
arrive, was commencing.
Next morning we awoke near those famous lines where twelve thousand
picked English troops were overthrown by a few hundred men, the half of
whom bore arms for the first time. Astonished at the cries of Vive la
liberté, vive l’ami de l’Amerique! vive Lafayette! in the French
language, we hastened on deck. What was our surprise on seeing the shore
covered with French uniforms! For an instant we believed that we were
transported back to the bosom of our country, once more freed, and our
hearts beat with joy. General Lafayette disembarked in the midst of the
thunder of artillery, and the acclamations of an immense multitude, who,
regardless of the badness of the weather and the distance from the town,
crowded the levee. He was received by a numerous escort of cavalry, and
by the twelve marshals who had been appointed to direct the procession.
Leaning on the arm of his ancient companion in arms, Mr. Duplantier, and
of General Villeré, he proceeded to the house of Montgomery, which had
been Jackson’s head quarters on the day when he covered himself with
glory by his admirable defence of his lines. The governor of the state
there waited for him, and received him in the name of the people of
Louisiana.
The speech of the governor, depicting Frenchmen enjoying a liberty which
is still considered in France as problematical, made a deep impression
on the general, and he replied to it with much emotion.
At the conclusion of his reply, every one that could force an entrance
into the house were presented to him in turn. There were a great number
of the veterans of the revolution, and among others, Colonel
Bruian-Bruin, who had served at the siege of Quebec, where the brave
General Montgomery perished; Judge Gerrard, who fought at Yorktown,
Colonel Grenier, who, after having gloriously assisted in the three
revolutions of America, France, and Colombia, still preserved at seventy
years of age, all the courage and fire of youth. A great number of
ladies also came down to meet the general, and offered him their
congratulations through Mr. Marigny, on his safe arrival in Louisiana.
After all the presentations had been gone through, the procession was
formed, and, notwithstanding the violence of the rain, we took up the
line of march to the city. We advanced but slowly, from the denseness of
the crowd, which, as we approached the city, blocked up both the road
and the levee. When we arrived at the outskirts of the town we met with
bodies of troops drawn up in two lines, through which we passed to the
sound of martial music. Notwithstanding the badness of the weather, the
general proceeded along these lines on foot, and before he again entered
the carriage returned his thanks to the commanding officers. The
procession again moved on, augmented by the troops falling into the
rear, and, as it advanced, the crowd became still greater in spite of
the continuance of the storm. This immense concourse of people, the view
of the triple row of houses adorned with hangings, bordering the river
side, the sound of the artillery and bells, and the prolonged
acclamations of the whole population, produced a sensation which it is
difficult to describe; at last, in the midst of these testimonies of
strong affection, the general arrived at the barrier of the public
square, and was conducted by the committee of arrangement under a
triumphal arch of admirable architecture and excellent design. This
monument was sixty feet in height, forty of which were below the
springing of the arch, by fifty-eight in breadth; the arcade was twenty
feet wide, and twenty-five long; it rested on a socle imitating
Sera-Veza marble; the base, forming a pedestal of green Italian marble,
was decorated with colossal statues of Justice and Liberty. This
allegorical basement supported an arch of the doric order, adorned with
four coupled columns on each face. The key-stones were composed of
twenty-four stones, each decorated with a gilt star, united by a fillet,
on which was engraved the word, _Constitution_, thus representing the
twenty-four states connected by one common tie. The pediment, in
imitation of yellow Verona marble, supported two figures of Fame with
trumpets, and carrying banners entwined with laurel, having on them the
names of Lafayette and Washington; the whole was surmounted by the
national eagle. The upper socle supported an entablature of seven feet,
on which was inscribed, in English and French, “A grateful republic
dedicates this monument to Lafayette.” On the top of the monument was a
group representing Wisdom resting her hand on a bust of the immortal
Franklin, and the four angles were decorated with rich national
trophies. The names of the signers of the declaration of independence,
and those of officers who had distinguished themselves during the war of
the revolution, were inscribed on various parts of the arch. This
beautiful edifice, designed by Mr. Pilié, and executed by Mr. Fogliardi,
presented a striking appearance, and the reliefs had an admirable
effect.
Under this monument the general was received by the municipal body, at
the head of whom was the mayor, Mr. Roffignac, who addressed him in the
name of the citizens of New Orleans.
In expressing his thanks to Mr. Roffignac, the general did not permit
such an occasion to escape him, of paying a tribute of esteem to the
memory of the father of this worthy magistrate. “On my entrance into
this capital,” said he, “I feel penetrated with gratitude for the
reception I have met with from the people of New Orleans and its worthy
mayor, whose name recalls to a cotemporary of his father’s,
recollections of courage and loyalty.” Mr. Roffignac appeared extremely
affected by this testimony of the general’s to the exalted character of
his father, and the tears that escaped from his eyes proved the depth of
his feelings.
After leaving the triumphal arch, the general was conducted, amidst the
acclamations of an immense crowd, to the city hall, where he was
complimented by Mr. Prieur in the name of the city council; from here we
went to the hotel of the municipality, where our quarters had been
prepared, and which the people of New Orleans designated by the name of
the “Lafayette house.” After taking a few moments of repose, the general
went out on a balcony to review the troops. All the detachments that
passed were remarkable for the elegance of their uniform, and the
exactness of their discipline. The grenadiers, the voltigeurs, Union
guards, chasseurs, New Orleans guards, Lafayette guards, each in turn
attracted the attention of the general. But when, in the rear of the
riflemen, whose name recalls so many recollections of gallantry, he
perceived a file of a hundred Choctaws, marching, according to the
Indian custom, in a single line, he was much gratified to see, that, by
a delicate attention, they had shown him that his name was familiar to
the warriors of the most distant nations, and that they had admitted
among their troops, these brave Indians, who had been the allies of the
Americans in the Seminole war, and, who, for nearly a month past, had
been encamped near the city, in order to see the “great warrior,” “the
brother of their great father Washington.”
The next day, the general received the visits of the vice president of
the house of representatives, and of those members of the legislature
who were then in the capital, and immediately afterwards the gentlemen
of the bar, headed by Mr. Derbigny, who had been chosen their orator,
were presented to him. In a discourse filled with noble thoughts, and
pronounced with a touching eloquence, Mr. Derbigny eulogised with
delicacy and address, that rectitude of mind, and firmness of character,
which, during political tempests, had always guided Lafayette in the
path of justice, and preserved him from participating in the excesses of
party.
In his reply, the general, carefully avoiding any allusion to the
eulogies that had been heaped upon him, confined himself to the
consideration of the general interests of Louisiana, and the individual
exertions of those who complimented him; he felicitated the citizens of
that state, after having been governed by the criminal laws of France
and Spain, that they gradually ameliorated them, and were still occupied
in perfecting this part of their code, to such a degree, that it might
even serve as a guide to the rest of the United States, whose criminal
laws are already so superior to those of every other people.
Being strongly urged to visit both the French and American theatres on
the same evening, the general decided by lot which he would attend the
first; chance was in favour of the American. We went there at seven
o’clock, and were received with an enthusiasm that cannot be described;
they gave an appropriate piece, of which neither he nor the audience
could appreciate the merit, as every eye was attracted by the hero of
Yorktown, who completely withdrew all attention from the representation
of the Prisoner of Olmutz. He afterwards went to the French theatre,
where they were impatiently expecting his appearance. When he entered,
the violence of the plaudits, and the repeated cries of “_Vive
Lafayette_,” suspended the representation. Every body rose; it was like
Themistocles appearing at the Olympic games: at last, calm being
re-established, the general took his seat in the box that had been
prepared for him, and saw with pleasure the last act of that charming
comedy, _L’Ecole des Vieillards_, which seemed to me to be as much
relished by my former countrymen, the Americans of Louisiana, as by the
inhabitants of Paris. Before he retired, the general heard an ode which
was performed to his honour, all the allusions of which were applauded
with enthusiasm.
In the course of Tuesday morning, a deputation of the Spanish emigrants
and refugees presented themselves to compliment the general; and, above
all, to testify their gratitude for the manner in which he opposed, in
the Chamber of Deputies in France, the invasion of Spain, and the
destruction of the liberal constitution.
The general, whose principles had led him to oppose, with all his
energy, a measure disapproved of by France—a measure which had produced
such disastrous results to Spain, and the heroic victims of which were
now before him, was deeply affected by the expressions of gratitude now
showered upon him; and, in an eloquent and impressive reply, paid his
tribute of esteem, admiration, and regret, to the memory of the
unfortunate Riego; he had already, on more than one occasion, openly
expressed his opinion on the unhappy death of that generous martyr to
liberty, and the whole American nation had partaken of the same
feelings, for the consistent and courageous defender of the revolution
in the peninsula.
On the following day, many other deputations waited on General
Lafayette, and expressed to him their attachment, and devotion to his
principles. Among them were those of the militia staff, of the medical
society, of the clergy, and of the free blacks, who, in 1815,
courageously assisted in the defence of the city; and our two last
evenings were occupied, the one by a public ball, and the other by a
masonic dinner. I will not attempt to describe these entertainments,
which, from the beauty, elegance, and amiability of the ladies, the
enthusiasm and frank cordiality of the citizens, the sedulous and
delicate attentions of the magistrates, the richness and profusion of
the details, equalled any thing we had ever met with.
Nevertheless, in the midst of the pleasures thus afforded him by the
Louisianians, the general experienced moments of inquietude and sorrow.
Sinister rumours reached him; he was told of a serious dispute between
the staff and the officers of the militia, on the subject of certain
prerogatives of the legion, denied by one, and insisted on by the others
with equal warmth, which might produce bloody results after the
departure of him whose presence was a curb even on the most headstrong.
In so serious an affair he did not hesitate on using all his influence
to reconcile citizens, whom a moment of error and a false point of
honour had temporarily divided; he, therefore, invited all the officers
of the different corps to meet at his house. When they arrived, he told
them that they were, doubtless, aware of his reasons in thus bringing
them together; that he was informed of what had passed, and the evil
consequences that would ensue; he observed, that he felt that he was the
cause, however unwillingly, and could he have foreseen such unpleasant
circumstances, he should have written to decline their invitation. He
begged them to consider the injurious reports it would occasion as
regarded all parties, and concluded by begging that they would accept of
him as a mediator.
One of the superior officers immediately advanced, and with an
honourable frankness said to him, “General, I place my honour in your
hands, and now agree to whatever you may dictate.” The eldest of the
complainants then observed, “General, I also confide my honour, and that
of my comrades, who freely agree with me, in your keeping.” The general
took a hand of each of these brave men, and having united them, had the
satisfaction of seeing the happiest concord established between men, who
an instant before had renounced the pleasing title of brothers in arms.
This interesting scene had many witnesses, who soon promulgated the
details. The news of it was received with astonishing enthusiasm, as it
was a sincere reconciliation between all that Louisiana cherished and
revered.
General Lafayette had intended to visit the scene of the battle of the
8th of January, but the continuance of stormy weather, and the necessity
for his complying in two or three days to all the kind invitations that
were heaped upon him, obliged him to relinquish the idea. A colonel of
the staff, who witnessed the chagrin this sacrifice occasioned me, had
the goodness to propose that I should accompany him, whilst the general
was paying some private visits. I accepted his invitation with
eagerness, and we immediately set out in a carriage he sent for. On the
way he informed me that he was born in France; that placed, from his
birth, in the privileged class of society, he had, from his infancy,
been brought up in the aristocratic prejudices of his caste; and that,
although very young at the epoch of the French revolution, he believed
it his duty to defend the rights of a few against the natural and sacred
rights of the many, and that he had joined the Vendeans. “Then,” said
he, “I believed in the legitimacy of an absolute monarchy, and in the
hereditary succession of virtue, with all the fervour of ignorance, and
I at first fought for them, with all the courage and devotion of
fanaticism; but the campaign had not terminated before my reason,
bursting the bonds with which education had loaded it, taught me, that
instead of combating, as I had believed, for justice and truth, I was
merely the instrument of a few men, determined to sacrifice every thing,
even their country, to their own private interests, and I sheathed my
sword, which I ought never to have drawn in so unjust, so absurd a
cause.” He went on to say, that he would have re-entered France, but was
deterred by the scenes of bloodshed and confusion then so prevalent in
that country. He, therefore, sought in other lands that happiness he was
denied at home. After traversing all Europe, and every where finding the
same criminal alliance of royalty, nobility, and clergy, against the
welfare and interests of the people, he finally settled in the United
States. He added, “I had only lived at New Orleans a short time, when,
in 1815, the inveterate enemies of the liberty of others in both
hemispheres presented themselves before that city. I flew to arms, happy
in finding an occasion of proving my gratitude to my new country, and my
sincere attachment to the principles which governed it, and I am happy
in being able to say, that my presence was not wholly useless on the
field of battle we are about to visit.”
My companion had scarcely uttered these words, when our carriage
stopped, and we stept out near the extreme right of the lines. Before
examining them, the colonel had the goodness to explain to me the
operations that preceded and brought on the battle of the 8th. I
understood, from these details, how difficult it had been for General
Jackson, with the handful of men he had at his disposition, to oppose
the landing and rapid progress of an army of 15,000 men, or quadruple
his own.
The position chosen by the American general to wait for reinforcements,
and to arrest the advance of so formidable an enemy, appeared to me to
be very judicious. He threw up entrenchments about five miles below the
city, along an old canal, the left of which was lost in the depths of a
swampy wood, whilst the right rested on the river. The total length of
this line was about eight hundred toises, but as three hundred toises of
the left were unassailable, the enemy was confined in his attack to a
front of about five hundred toises, and obliged to advance in full view
over a perfectly level plain. Nevertheless, whether from want of time,
or want of reflection, General Jackson committed two serious errors; the
first was in erecting his entrenchment in a straight line, and at right
angles to the river, so that he not only deprived himself of the
advantage of cross fires, but he also exposed himself, if the English,
more skilful or fortunate, had sent a few vessels up the river in the
rear of his lines; he exposed himself, I say, to the danger of having
had his whole line enfiladed by the enemy’s artillery. The other fault
was, erecting his second line at so great a distance from the first,
that if this had been forced, he would never have been enabled to have
gained the other, and his troops would have been cut to pieces in the
interval. These two faults would have sufficed, as may readily be
supposed, to compromit the safety of an army more numerous and better
disciplined than that of General Jackson; but the destiny of American
liberty, or rather the supernatural courage of the citizens, who, on
that day, fought for the preservation of their independence, and the
safety of their families, with the inflexible firmness of Jackson
himself, shaded with the laurels of a most brilliant victory those
faults which would have destroyed a less patriotic army.
I will record the details, which were given me with great clearness and
precision, of all the operations that preceded that glorious day. I
refer those who wish to study them to the excellent memoir of Mr.
Lacarriere Latour, and to the equally distinguished accounts of Messrs.
Brackenridge and Mac Fee; but I cannot resist the desire of now
retracing some of the most brilliant acts which saved Louisiana, and
immortalized its defenders.
Notwithstanding all his exertions, General Jackson was unable to collect
for the defence of his entrenchments more than 3,200 men, and fourteen
pieces of cannon of different calibers, pressed for time, he had been
obliged to form the upper part of his works with bales of cotton,
brought down from the city. He remained twenty-four hours in this
position, expecting an attack every instant, when, on the 8th of
January, at break of day, he perceived the English army, 12,000 strong,
advancing on him in three columns, the most formidable of which menaced
that part of his left wing, defended by the Tennessee and Kentucky
militia. Each soldier, besides his arms, carried fascines or a scaling
ladder, and marched in the most profound silence. The Americans
permitted them to advance within half cannon shot, and then opened on
them a terrible fire of artillery, to which the English replied by three
cheers, and the flight of some Congreve rockets, and then hurried their
march, closing their ranks as they were mowed down by the shot. This
coolness and determination, which seemed as if it would ensure them a
speedy victory, did not last long. The moment they arrived within musket
shot, the Tennesseans and Kentuckians commenced a fire of small arms,
which instantly broke their columns, and forced them to seek for shelter
behind some thickets, which covered their right. It is true, that
infantry never kept up so constant and destructive a fire, as that of
these intrepid American militia. The men, arranged six deep, loaded the
arms, and rapidly passed them to the front rank, composed of able
marksmen, each of whose balls carried certain death to the enemy.
Whilst the English officers, with a courage worthy of a better cause and
of a happier destiny, endeavoured to rally their scattered troops, to
lead them to a fresh assault, an American artilleryman, in the battery
commanded by Lieutenant Spotts, perceived in the plain, a group of
officers, agitated and dismayed, carrying off some one with some
difficulty. “It is perhaps the commander-in-chief and only wounded,”
exclaimed he, “he must not escape so.” He levelled his piece against
them, fired, and Packenham the English commander was killed in the arms
of his friends. The desire for revenge now rallied the English; officers
and soldiers pressed forward in a new column, led on with fury by Kean
and Gibbs, the successors of Packenham. But the fire of the Americans
redoubled in intensity and precision; Kean and Gibbs successively fell,
the one mortally, the other dangerously wounded, and the column again
broken, disappeared, leaving only its wreck on the plain.
Whilst in the centre of the line the American troops were thus crushing
their adversaries, without the loss of a single man, fortune seemed as
if she wished to try them on the right by a reverse. Twelve hundred
English, led by a daring chief, rapidly advanced along the river, and
unexpectedly fell on a small redoubt, defended by a company of riflemen
and one of the 7th regiment. The Americans, surprised at this point, at
first retired in some disorder. General Jackson, whose vigilant eye let
nothing escape, at this decisive moment perceived an English officer
mounted on the entrenchments, brandishing in one hand his sabre, and
with the other assisting his soldiers to scale the rampart. Jackson
hastened to the spot, met the runaways, arrested their flight, and, in a
terrible voice, demanded of their commander who had given him orders to
retreat. “The enemy has forced our entrenchments,” replied the captain.
“Well,” answered Jackson in a severe voice, “go back and with your
bayonets force them out.” This order was immediately executed. In an
instant the English, who at first thought themselves victors, fell under
the blows of the Americans. Among the slain, was the intrepid Colonel
Rennie, an ancient French emigrant who had entered the English service;
the same that had been seen so boldly surmounting the rampart, aiding
and encouraging his soldiers in the assault.
This battle, which decided the fate of New Orleans, and perhaps even of
Louisiana, only lasted three hours, and cost the Americans but seven men
killed and six wounded, whilst the English left near three thousand men
and fourteen pieces of cannon on the field. General Lambert, the only
one of the English generals in a state to command, ordered a retreat,
and hastened to seek shelter for himself and the wreck of his army, on
board Admiral Cochran’s fleet, who, the evening before, had said with
his accustomed boasting, that if he were ordered to attack the American
lines, he would carry them in less than half an hour, with two thousand
sailors, sabre in hand.
Thus, a small army, composed of citizens hastily collected, and
commanded by a general whose military career had just commenced, beheld
an English army, which passed for one of the bravest and most
experienced in Europe, and which boasted it had expelled the French from
Spain, fall before its patriotic efforts.
When I returned to the city, I found General Lafayette surrounded by
numbers of ladies and citizens of all ranks, who, knowing that he would
leave them the next morning, mournfully came to bid him farewell, and
once more to take him by the hand. In the crowd I remarked some
ecclesiastics, and among them a capuchin, whose dress being new to me
had attracted my attention on the day of our arrival. The account I
heard of him interested me strongly, and may perhaps be equally so to my
readers.
Father Anthony, for such is his name, is a venerable capuchin friar of
the order of St. Francis, and has resided in Louisiana for many years.
Animated by an ardent and sincere piety, Father Anthony prays in silence
for all the world without asking prayers of any one. Placed in the midst
of a population composed of different sects, he does not think it right
to trouble their consciences by endeavours to gain proselytes.
Sometimes, as being a capuchin, Father Anthony asks alms, but it is only
when he has some good action in view, and his slender funds, exhausted
by his constant charity, deny him the power of doing it himself. Every
year, when the yellow fever, in stretching its murderous hand over New
Orleans, drives the terrified inhabitants to the country, to seek an
asylum against disease and death, the virtue of Father Anthony shows
itself in all its brilliancy and force. During this time of dread and
grief, how many unhappy wretches, abandoned by their friends or even by
their relations, have owed their recovery and life to his exertions, his
care, his piety. Of all those he has saved, (and there are many,) there
is not one who can say, “before he lavished his care on me, did he ask
of what religion I was.” Liberty and charity, such is the moral code of
Father Anthony; hence he is not in favour with the bishop. When he came
to visit the general, he was dressed, according to the custom of his
order, in a long brown robe, tied about his middle with a thick cord.
The moment he perceived him, he threw himself into his arms, exclaiming,
“O my son, I have found favour before the Lord, since he has thus
permitted me to see and hear the worthiest apostle of liberty!” He then
conversed a few moments with him in a tone of the most tender affection,
complimented him on the glorious and well-merited reception he had met
with from the Americans, and modestly retired into a corner of the room,
apart from the crowd. I took advantage of this, to approach and salute
him. How deeply was I touched by his conversation!—what sweetness! what
modesty! and at the same time what enthusiasm! Every time that he spoke
of liberty his eyes sparkled with a sacred light, and his looks were
fastened on him he termed his hero, on Lafayette. “How happy must he
be,” said he, “how pure is the source of all his glory! with what
transport he must contemplate the result of his labours and sacrifices!
Twelve millions of men happy and free through him! Yes! this man is
certainly beloved by God. He has done so much good to others.” He came
again to see us the morning before our departure. When the crowd had
quitted the room, and he was left alone with the general, he hastened to
him, and pressing him with transport to his bosom, “Adieu, my son,”
cried he, “adieu, best beloved general! Adieu! may the Lord attend you,
and after the termination of your glorious journey, conduct you to the
bosom of your beloved family, to enjoy in peace the recollection of your
good actions and of the friendship of the American people. O, my son,
perhaps you are still reserved for new labours! Perhaps the Lord may
make you the instrument of freeing other nations. Then, my son, think of
poor Spain! Do not abandon my dear country, my unhappy country!” The
tears flowing from his eyes, moistened his long beard, whitened by age;
his voice was interrupted by sobs; and the venerable old man, leaning
his forehead on the shoulder of Lafayette, remained in this attitude a
few moments, still murmuring, “My son, my dear son, do something for my
unhappy country.” It was not without deep emotion that the general tore
himself from the arms of this pious patriot, who, before he retired,
also bestowed his benediction on Mr. George Lafayette.
But the 15th being fixed for our departure, from the dawn of day the
avenues to the general’s apartment were filled with even a greater
assemblage than that of the evening before. There were present a great
number of ladies, and particularly crowds of children brought by their
parents, that they might contemplate the features of the benefactor of
the country, the friend of the great Washington. The general left the
house on foot. Cries of _Vive Lafayette_ were heard on every side. In
crossing the parade ground, on which were several companies of the
legion and troops of the line, lining the avenues, he expressed his
gratitude to all the officers whom he met; he again testified to Mr.
Gally, the captain of artillery, how much he appreciated the merit of
the fine corps he commanded; and, as he understood that this officer
intended going to France in a short time, he begged him, in the most
pressing manner, to have the goodness to carry news of him to his family
at La Grange. He got into a carriage at the extremity of the parade
ground, to proceed to the place of embarkation, where the steam-boat
that was to take him to Baton-Rouge now waited for him. The levee was
crowded by an innumerable concourse of people. The balconies, roofs of
the houses, all the shipping and steam-boats which were near this spot,
were filled with spectators; and, when he went on board, he was saluted
by a prolonged acclamation, but it was not repeated, and more than ten
thousand persons remained in a state of profound silence, until the
Natchez was out of sight. The artillery only was heard at intervals,
giving a solemnity to this separation that was profound and universal.
The governor and his staff, the mayor and municipal body, the committee
of arrangement, to whom we owed so many and great obligations, embarked
with us to prolong for a few moments the pleasure of being with the
general; but at two miles from the city, the most of them were obliged
to leave us. It was not without profound regret that we separated from
these worthy officers, whom we had only known for a few days, it is
true, but yet sufficiently long to appreciate them fully.