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.
CHAPTER VIII.
History and Constitution of Louisiana—Baton-Rouge—Natchez—State of Mississippi—Voyage to St. Louis—Reception of General Lafayette in that city.
For a long time after the French had founded large and prosperous establishments in Canada, they were ignorant of the existence of the Mississippi; when some of their traders learnt from the Indians with whom they trafficked, that to the westward of their country there was a great river, that communicated with the Gulf of Mexico. This was in the year 1660. Three years afterwards Mr. De Frontenac, governor of Canada, wishing to verify this assertion, sent a Jesuit missionary, father Marquette, at the head of a small detachment to discover this country. The Jesuit ascended Fox river to its source, from thence traversing the Wisconsin, he descended to the mouth of the Mississippi, and found that the account of the Indians was true.