1797.

"To France, to Europe, and to the world, it must be manifest, that the French government (while they persist in their present sentiments) leave his majesty without an alternative, unless he were prepared to surrender and sacrifice to the undisguised ambition of his enemies, the honor of his crown, and the safety of his dominions. It must be manifest, that instead of showing, on their part, any inclination to meet his majesty's pacific overtures on any moderate terms, they have never brought themselves to state any terms (however exhorbitant) on which they were ready to conclude peace. They have asked, as a preliminary, (and in a form the most arrogant and offensive,) concessions which the comparative situation of the two countries would have rendered extravagant in any stage of negociation; which were directly contrary to their own repeated professions; and which, nevertheless, they peremptorily requested to be complied with in the very outset, reserving an unlimited power of afterwards accumulating, from time to time, fresh demands, increasing in proportion to every new

concession.

"On the other hand, the terms proposed by his majesty have been stated in the most clear, open, and unequivocal manner. The discussion of all the points to which they relate, or of any others which the enemy might bring forward as the terms of peace, has been, on his majesty's part, repeatedly called for, as often promised by the French plenipotentiaries, but to this day has never yet been obtained. The rupture of the negotiation is not, therefore, to be ascribed to any pretensions, however inadmissible, urged as the price of peace; nor to any ultimate difference on terms, however exhorbitant; but to the evident and fixed determination of the enemy to prolong the contest, and to persevere, at all hazards, in their hostile designs against the prosperity and safety of these kingdoms.

"While this determination continues to prevail, his majesty's earnest wishes and endeavors to restore peace to his subjects must be fruitless. But his sentiments remain unaltered. He looks with anxious expectation to the moment when the government of France may show a disposition and spirit in any degree corresponding to his own. And he renews, even now, and before all

Europe, the solemn determination, that in spite of repeated provocations, and at the very moment when his claims have been strengthened and confirmed by that fresh success which, by the blessing of Providence, has recently attended his arms, (alluding to Admiral Duncan's victory,) he is yet ready (if the calamities of war can now be closed) to conclude peace on the same moderate and equitable principles and terms which he has before proposed: the rejection of such terms must now, more than ever, demonstrate the implacable animosity and insatiable ambition of those with whom he has to contend, and to them. alone must the future consequences of the prolongation of the war be ascribed.

"If such unhappily is the spirit by which they are still actuated, his majesty can neither hesitate as to the principles of his own conduct, nor doubt the sentiments and determination of his people. He will not be wanting to them, and he is confident they will not be wanting to themselves. He has an anxious but a sacred and indispensable duty to fulfil; he will discharge it with resolution, constancy, and firmness. Deeply as he must regret the continuance of a war, so destructive iu its progress, and so burthensome even in its success, he knows the character of the brave people whose interests and honor are entrusted to him. These are the first objects of his life to maintain; and he is convinced, that neither the resources nor the spirit of his kingdom will be found inadequate to this arduous contest, or unequal to the importance or value of the objects which are at stake. He trusts, that the favor of Providence, by which they have always hitherto been sup ported against all their enemies, will be still extended to them; and that, under this protection, his faithful subjects, by a resolute and vigorous application of the means which they possess, will be enabled to vindicate the independence of their country, and to resist, with just indignation, the assumed superiority of the enemy, against whom they have fought with the courage, success, and glory of their ancestors, and who aims at nothing less than to destroy, at once, whatever has contributed to the prosperity and greatness of the British empire; all the channels of its industry, and all the sources of its power; its serenity from abroad, its tranquillity at home, and above all, that constitution, on which alone depends the undisturbed enjoyment of its religion, laws, and liberties,"

NOTHING can more evince the malevolence of

the French government towards the English nation at this period, than the ungenerous detension of Sir Sidney Smith, who was taken prisoner. This British officer being stationed off Havre de Grace, went with the boats of his squadron on a reconnoitering expedition, and on the 18th of April captured a French lugger privateer, which, by the strong setting of the tide into the harbor, was driven above the forts. In this situation he remained the whole night, and at the dawn of day the French discovering the French lugger in tow of the English boats, an alarm was instantly given, and another lugger of superior force was warped out againt the prize. This vessel he engaged for a considerable time, but her metal was so much heavier as to render all resistance unavailing, and he had the mortification to be obliged to surrender with nineteen of his companions. The Diamond was meanwhile prevented from affording any assistance to her brave commander, by the dead calm which prevailed during the whole of the unfortunate transaction. The officers immediately sent a flag of truce to enquire whether Sir Sidney was wounded, and to request that he might be treated with kindness. The governor replied, that Sir Sidney was well, and that he should experience the utmost humanity and attention.

This promise, however, the French government was very far from ratifying. The mischief to their marine, of which he had been the instrument at Toulon, and his subsequent activity in annoying their coast, had rendered Sir Sidney particularly obnoxious to the rulers of France, who obstinately refused to exchange their prisoner.

They set up a pretence that Sir Sidney could not be considered as an ordinary prisoner of war, and should not be admitted into the ordinary exchanges. No doubt remained with the directory but that this was an act of injustice, and they therefore directly apprehended, that the English government would take revenge, by ill-treating the French prisoners in their country. The anxious eye of the directory was constantly upon the motions of the English administration; their agent was ordered to look out, and failing to complain caused him to be suspected of neglect of duty..

M. Charetié, the French agent, had constant access to his unfortunate countrymen, and received every information as often as he wished; he

CHAP. II.

1797.

was in general satisfied; and no ground of com- BOOK III. plaint arose that the government did not correct to his satisfaction. It was, however, discovered, that at Falmouth, the contractor had supplied the prisoners with bread inferior to the price government paid; a circumstance that buoyed up the reputation of M. Charetié, by giving him a tale to send over to his government, of which the directory made the most ungenerous use. When the conduct of the contractor was represented, he was punished, and means taken to prevent a repetition of the same fraud; yet the directory trumpeted the story forth in their gazettes and placards, tojustify the wretched manner in which they had treated the English prisoners, even before they had any such excuse to make. A Frenchman, on arriving at Nantes, from an English prison, saw it stuck against the walls, that the French prisoners were fed upon dead dogs and cats, and were sometimes brought out, in great numbers,. and shot to amuse the people; he declared that it was false, and that he was treated with extreme kindness; but he was told to be silent, and not dare to contradict the government.

As the French sent an agent to look over their prisoners in England, so the British government appointed Mr. Swinburne, agent, to attend to their prisoners in France; but Mr. Swinburne was not allowed access to the prisons, nor to receive any information concerning them directly, but such as the French commissaries thought proper to give.

A committee having been appointed by the English government, several persons were examined as to their treatment while prisoners in France; it appeared that little attention was paid to the comfort of those unfortunate people held in France, that their places of confinement were small, crowded, and filthy, and their allowances poor and scanty, while every article was cheap and plentiful near where they were confined. Ou their marches from where they were taken to the places appointed for their residence, while they were detained, they were obliged to support the soldiers, who conducted them, out of their scanty pittance, and at night were lodged in a church on wet straw, and when their release was ordered,. they were marched back, paying their own expenses. When this was reported to the marine minister at Brest, by some English officers, he said, he believed all they told him, but that it was

CHAP. II.

BOOK III. not in his power to remedy it, or he would; and he desired them to apply to the French commissary in London, for the difference of the deficiency in what they ought to have received. Not only were the provisions curtailed for those who were ill, but even for those who were lame.

1797.

The French commissary for prisoners was examined before a committee held in London, as to the state in which he saw the different prisons in England, and he gave the highest credit to the government for the allowances they made to support the prisoners, and said, that whatever faults there were, they doubtless arose with the contractors; at some places, he did see articles supplied not by any means equal to the price that government paid for them; but that, on stating this to the transport-board, under whose care the prisoners were, every attention was paid to his remonstrances. It appeared, however, from the minutes of the committee, that Monsieur Charetié had written to the directory that the prison at Norman Cross was crowded to excess, and many irregularities occurred. This, however, he denied to the committee, and it appeared, from the evidence of the medical officers who attended, and two French medical men who also assisted, that this was not the case. A great deal of cruelty and jealousy existed relative to the prisoners of war in France, which was the occasion of many unpleasant circumstances between the two nations; but the committee resolved there was no fault to be found with those in England.

The directory well knew, that a general exchange of prisoners would free the English government from all blame; and it was unjustly insisted upon, that the British should give up all claim to the number of prisoners that they had a right to demand in exchange for Frenchmen liberated on parole, amounting to 7019, and also give up 4000 more, above what they expected to receive any exchange for, before they could change Sir Sidney Smith for an officer of equal rank.

a

When Sir Sidney was taken at sea, he was accompanied by his secretary and M. de TrFrench gentleman, who had emigrated from his country, and who, it had been agreed, was to pass for Sir Sidney's servant, in the hope of saving his life in that disguise. Nor were their expectations frustrated; for John, as he was called, was lucky enough to escape all suspicion.

On Sir Sidney's arrival in France, he was treated at first with unexampled rigor, and was told that he ought to be tried under a military commission, and shot as a spy. The government, however, gave orders for his removal to Paris, where he was sent to the Abbaye, and, together with his two companions in misfortune, was kept a close prisoner.

Meanwhile, the means of escape were the constant objects on which they employed their minds.

The window of their prison was toward the street, and from this circumstance they derived a hope sooner or later to effect their object.

One day, our British hero observed that a lady, who lived in an upper apartment on the opposite side of the street, seemed frequently to look towards that part of the prison where he was confined. As often as he observed her he played some tender air upon his flute, by which, and by imitating every motion that she made, he at length succeeded in fixing her attention upon him, and had the happiness of remarking, that she occasionally observed him with a glass. One morning when he saw that she was looking attentively upon him in this manner, he tore a blank leaf from an old mass-book, which was lying in his cell, and with the soot of the chimney contrived, by his finger, to describe upon it, in a large character, the letter A, which he held to the window, to be viewed by bis fair sympathizing observer. After gazing upon it some little time, she nodded, to shew that she understood what it meant. Sir Sidney then touched the top of the first bar of the grating of his window, which he wished her to consider as the representative of the letter A, the second B, and so on until he had formed from the top of the bars a corresponding number of letters; and by touching the middle and bottom parts of them, upon a line with each other, he easily, after having inculcated the first impression of his wishes, completed a telegraphic alphabet. The process of communication was, from its nature, very slow; but Sir Sidney had the happiness of observing, upon forming the first word, that this excellent being, who beamed before him like a guardian angel, seemed completely to comprehend it, which she expressed by an assenting movement of the head.

Frequently obliged to desist from this tacit and tedious intercourse, from the dread of exciting the curiosity of the gaolers, or his fellow-prisoners, who were permitted to walk before his window, Sir Sidney occupied several days in communicating to his unknown friend his name and quality, and imploring her to procure some unknown royalist of consequence and address, sufficient for the undertaking, to effect his escape; in the achievement of which he assured her, upon his word of honor, that whatever cost might be incurred, would be amply reimbursed, and that the bounty and gratitude of his country would nobly remunerate those who had the talent and bravery to accomplish it. By the same means he enabled her to draw confidential and accredited bills for considerable sums of money, for the promotion of the scheme, which she applied with perfect integrity.

Other ladies endeavored to assist our hero, with whom, under borrowed names, he used to correspond, theirs being taken from the ancient

mythology; so that he had now a direct communication with Thalia, Melpomene, and Clio.

At length Sir Sidney Smith was removed to the Temple, where his three muses soon contrived means of intelligence, and every day offered him new schemes of effecting his escape. At first he eagerly accepted them all, though reflection soon destroyed the hopes to which the love of liberty had given birth. He was resolved not to leave his secretary in prison, and still less poor John, whose safety was more dear to him than his own emancipation.

In the Temple, John was allowed to enjoy a considerable degree of liberty. He was lightly dressed as an English jockey, and knew how to assume the manners that correspond with that character. Every one was fond of John, who drank and fraternized with the turnkeys, and made love to the keeper's daughter, who was persuaded he would marry her; and, as the little English jockey was not supposed to have received a very brilliant education, he had learned, by means of study, sufficiently to mutilate his uative tongue. John appeared very attentive and eager in Sir Sidney's service, and always spoke to his master in a very respectful manner. Sir Sidney scolded him from time to time with much gravity; and he played his part so well, that our hero frequently found himself forgetting his friend, and seriously giving orders to the valet. At length, John's wife, Madame de Tr

a very interesting lady, arrived at Paris, and made the most uncommon exertion to liberate them from their captivity. She dared not come, however, to the Temple, for fear of discovery; but from a neighbouring house she daily beheld her husband, who, as he walked to and fro, enjoyed alike, in secret, the pleasure of contemplating the friend of his bosom. Madame de Madame de Tr- now communicated a plan for delivering them from prison to a sensible and courageous young man of her acquaintance, who immediately acceded to it without hesitation. This Frenchman, who was sincerely attached to his country, said to Madame de Tr--, " I will serve Sir Sidney Smith with pleasure, because I believe the English government intend to restore Louis XVIII. to the throne; but, if the commodore is to fight against France, and not for the King of France, heaven forbid that I should assist him."

Ch. L'Oiseau (for that was the name this young friend assumed) was connected with the agents of the king, then confined in the Temple, and with whom he was always contriving means of escape. It was intended they should all get off together. M. la Vilheurnois, being condemned only to a year's imprisonment, was resolved not to quit his present situation; but his brother and Duverne de Presle were to follow their example. Every thing was prepared for the execution of their pro

4

1797.

ject. The means proposed by Ch. L'Oiseau ap- BOOK M. peared practicable, and they resolved to adopt them. A hole, twelve feet long, was to be made CHAP. II. in a cellar adjoining to the prison, and the apartments to which the cellar belonged were at their disposal. Mademoiselle D, rejecting every prudential consideration, generously came to reside there for a week, and, being young, the other lodgers attributed to her alone the frequent visits of Ch. L'Oiseau. Thus every thing seemed to favor their wishes. No one in the house in question seemed to have any suspicions; and the amiable little child Mademoiselle D-- bad with her, and who was only seven years old, was so far from betraying their secret, that she always beat a little drum and made a noise while the work was going on in the cellar.

Meanwhile L'Oiseau had continued his labors a considerable time without any appearance of day-light, and he was apprehensive he had attempted the opening considerably too low. It was necessary, therefore, that the wall should be sounded; and for this purpose a mason was required. Madame de Tr-- recommended one, and Ch. L'Oiseau undertook to bring him, and to detain him in the cellar till they had escaped, which was to take place that very day. The worthy mason perceived the object was to save some of the victims of misfortune, and came without hesitation. He only said, “If I am arrested, take care of my poor children."

A dreadful misfortune now frustrated all their hopes! Though the wall was sounded with the greatest precaution, the last stone fell out, and rolled into the garden of the Temple. The sertinel perceived it-the alarm was given-the guard arrived-and all was discovered. Fortunately, however, their friends had time to make their escape, and none of them were known. They had, indeed, taken their measures with the greatest care; and when the commissioners of the Bureau Central came to examine the cellar and apartment, they found only a few pieces of furniture, trunks filled with logs of wood and hay, and the hats with tri-colored cockades, provided for their flight, as those they wore were black.

This first attempt, though extremely well conducted, having failed, Sir Sidney wrote to Madame de Tr, both to console her and their young friend, who was miserable at having foundered just as he was going into port. They were so far, however, from suffering themselves to be discouraged, that they still continued to form new schemes for their deliverance. The keeper perceived it, and Sir Sidney was frequently so open as to acknowledge the fact, "Commodore," said he, "your friends are desirous of liberating you, and they only discharge their duty. I also am doing mine, in watching you still more nar

66

One day, when our hero dined with him, he perceived that Sir Sidney fixed his attention on a window then partly open, and which looked into the street. Sir Sidney saw his uneasiness, and it amused him: however, to put an end to it, he said to him, laughing, "I know what you are thinking of, but fear not. It is now three o'clock. I will make a truee with you till midnight; and I give you my word of honor, that, till that time, even were the doors open, I would not escape. When that hour is past, my promise is at an end, and we are enemies again."-" Sir," replied he, "your word is a safer bond than my bars and bolts: til midnight, therefore, I am perfectly easy." When they rose from the table, the keeper took him aside, and, speaking with warmth, said, "Commodore, the Boulevard is not far. If you are inclined to take the air there, I will conduct you." Sir Sidney's astonishment was extreme; nor could he conceive how this man, who appeared so severe, and so steady, should thus suddenly make him such a proposal. He accepted it, however, and in the evening they went

out.

99

66

From that time forward this confidence always continued. Whenever Sir Sidney was desirous to enjoy perfect liberty, he offered him a suspension of arms till a certain hour. This his generous enemy never refused: but when the armistice was at an end his vigilance was unbounded, Every post was examined; and if the government ordered that Sir Sidney Smith should be kept close, the order was enforced with the greatest care. Thus our hero was again free to contrive and prepare for his escape, and the keeper to treat him with the utmost rigor. This man had a very accurate idea of the obligations of honor. He often said to Sir Sidney, Were you even under sentence of death, I would permit you to go out on your parole, because I should be certain of your return. Many very honest prisoners, and I myself among the rest, would not return in the like case; but an officer, and especially an officer of distinction, holds his honor dearer than his life. I know it to be a fact, commodore; and therefore I should be less uneasy, if you desired the gates to be always open." The keeper was right. While Sir Sidney enjoyed his liberty, he endeavoured even to lose sight of the idea of his escape; and he would have been averse to employ for that object means that had occurred to his imagination during his hours of liberty. One day he

received a letter containing matter of the greatest importance, which he had the strongest desire to read; but as its contents related to his intended deliverance, he asked to return to his room, and break off the truce. The keeper, however, refused, saying, with a laugh, that he wanted to take some sleep. Accordingly he lay down, and Sir Sidney postponed the perusal of his letter till the evening. Meanwhile no opportunity of flight offered; on the contrary, the directory ordered him to be treated with rigor. The keeper punetually obeyed all the orders he received; and he who the preceding evening had granted Sir Sidney the greatest liberty, now doubled his guard, in order to exercise a more perfect vigilance. Among the prisoners was a man condemned for certain political offences to ten years confinement, and whom all the other prisoners suspected of the detestable capacity of a spy upon his companions. Their suspicions, indeed, appeared to have some foundation, and Sir Sidney felt the greater anxiety on account of his friend John. He was, however, fortunate enough soon after to obtain his liberty. An exchange of prisoners being about to take place, Sir Sidney applied to have his servant included in the cartel; and though this request might easily have been refused, fortunately no difficulty arose, and it was granted. When the day of his departure arrived, this kind and affectionate friend could scarcely be prevailed upon to leave Sir Sidney; till at length he yielded to his most earnest entreaties. They parted with tears in their eyes, which to our hero were the tears of pleasure, because his friend was leaving a situation of the greatest danger. The amiable jockey was regretted by every one: the turnkeys drank a good journey to him; nor could the girl he had courted help weeping for his departure; whilst her mother, who thought John a very good youth, hoped she should one day call him her son-in-law. Sir Sidney was soon informed of his arrival in London; and this circumstance rendered his confinement less painful.

On the 4th of September, 1797, (18th Fructidor) the rigor of Sir Sidney's confinement was still further increased. The keeper, whose name was Lasne, was displaced; our hero was again kept close prisoner; and, together with his liberty, lost the hopes of a peace, which he thought approaching. At this time a proposal was made to Sir Sidney for his escape, which he adopted as his last resource. The plan was to have forged orders drawn up for his removal to another prison, and thus to carry him off. A French gentleman, M. de Phelipeaux, a man of equal intrepidity and generosity, offered to execute this enterprize. The order then being accurately imitated, and, by means of a bribe, the real stamp of the minister's signature procured, nothing remained but to find men bold enough to put this plan into execution.