When the fleet sailed, the wind was nearly at E. and it continued to blow here between the points of N. E. and E. S. E. until the evening of Sunday the 25th of January, when it shifted to South, and next day blew fresh at S. W. On Thursday the 29th of January it returned to S. E. and continued in the Eastern quarter until the evening of the 31st, when it backed to S. W.
On the 12th of January Le Redoutable singly came back into port; on the 28th seven sail more of two-deckers returned, having parted three days before in a fog from the body of the fleet, which, to the number of twenty sail, arrived on the second and third of this month, and two others have got into l’Orient: no less than the following five having either foundered, or been purposely run on shore, to prevent their sinking.
| Guns. | |
| Le Scipion, | 74 |
| Le Superbe, | 74 |
| Le Neuf Thermidor, | 84 |
| Le Temeraire, | 74 |
| Le Neptune, | 74 |
The condition even of those which have escaped, is deplorable: among others Le Majestueux had four pumps going when she entered the port. Two days ago I held a long conversation with the Captain of Le Jean Bart, who execrated the planners of this destructive expedition to their navy. He assured me, that it had been remonstrated against in the strongest terms by the naval officers, and its pernicious consequences foretold; but the orders from Paris were positive. The fleet cruized in three divisions, the easternmost of which kept but just outside of Scilly and Ushant; and the westernmost was once driven as far as 18° W. in the latitude of 45°; the central division occupied the intermediate space. I learned these particulars from some masters of English merchantmen who were taken, and have been sent to this prison. A more effectual plan to interrupt our commerce could not have been devised. Of its practicability, had I not lived to see it executed, I should at least have doubted; but this is an age of political phænomena on the water, as well as the land. Between fifty and sixty prizes were captured by this fleet, among which was a transport bound from Ireland to Bristol, having on board 120 soldiers of a new-raised regiment, who are now confined here, and do so little credit, by their appearance, to British troops, that I have more than once blushed, when they have been pointed at by the French; and I have been asked with a sneer, “Are these the men who are to march to Paris?” In the list of prizes were also six or seven of the homeward-bound Oporto fleet, all of which they sunk, with their cargoes; deeming, I presume, that honest beverage (to use the words of one of their authors) “a heavy stupifying liquor, fit to be drunk by Englishmen only.”
Cut off as I am from all communication with English politics, I shall not presume to guess at the causes which have retained our fleet in harbour. But some of those which have not retained it, I shall venture to state. It was not the weather, for that was uninterruptedly fine until the 25th of January. It was not the wind, for that during the same period was always easterly, here at least, and our distance from Plymouth is barely 45 leagues. It was not a want of information, for (to my knowledge) exclusive of other channels, two English gentlemen, who escaped from this place in a boat at least as early as the 8th of January, must have arrived in England by the 12th or 13th. The rigid caution observed by the French, in not hazarding engagements at sea, is notorious. In the present instance it has been exchanged for a hardy audacity. They now boast that they have challenged us to the lists, which we have not dared to enter against them; but, during the time of their fleet being out, I have seen them tremble at the probability of such an event. Had the month of January been as tempestuous as it commonly is in this climate, our assistance would hardly have been required to destroy their leaky and crazy ships, in want of naval stores and able seamen. One hard gale of wind at S. S. W. would have cost them at least a dozen sail of the line.
What then shall we say? “There is,” my friend, “a tide in the affairs” of nations, as well as of men: the page of history every where records it. Hannibal, after the battle of Cannæ, instead of marching to Rome, turned aside to Capua;—from that moment the Carthaginian fortune ebbed, never to flow again. The series of rapid conquests, which distinguished the brilliant campaign of 1776, was finished, not by taking Philadelphia, dispersing the Congress, and breaking up the new government, but by occupying winter cantonments in Jersey, where our victorious army was beaten in detail;—and America was lost. The allies, after the surrender of Valenciennes, divided their forces;—and since that fatal separation how has their career of conquest been turned into retreat, marked only by overthrow, consternation and despair!
On the 31st of December, the Admiral was again reduced to my society, and that of his youngsters, all the other officers of the Alexander being sent on shore to the Château, where, according to accounts which I have received from them, by some letters privately conveyed to me, they are treated in a manner shocking to humanity.—But I must be contented with telling you my own story.
On their departure we who were left were again taken into the mess of the officers of the ship. The military part of this assembly are a set of worthless wretches; but two of those who fill civil posts are men of honourable characters, ever ready to pity our situation, and to give us every reasonable degree of intelligence of the state of the country, and what is going on; to which I add the advantage of reading daily some of the Paris news-papers, which are brought on board.
Through these channels I draw not only abundant matter for reflection, but frequently obtain diversion. “Moderation, and down with the Terrorists!” resound, I believe, from one end to the other of the republic. It is in all respects our interest to wish that such sentiments may be more than nominal. It is certain that a general dismission of the creatures of Robespierre is taking place. The indiscriminate advancement of unqualified candidates to offices of trust and dignity, which to court popular applause universally prevailed until lately, furnishes to those, who are not over-friendly to a democratic cause, an inexhaustible fund of merriment and ridicule. Among others who have just experienced the instability of honours is Tribout, who commanded the troops at Brest. This man, from beating a drum, and officiating as a regimental barber, under the old government, had been advanced by the revolution to the dignity of a drum-major, whence, by an easy gradation, he at once rose to the rank of a general officer, for intrepidity displayed in a battle on the frontiers. His elevation, however, only exposed him to derision in the district wherein he was delegated to command. Like the unfortunate cat, who at the request of her master was metamorphosed by Jupiter into a young woman, and who still retained her feline appetites, some unlucky trait, it seems, was for ever occurring in this poor man’s behaviour, to remind the spectators of his earlier professions. When he was on the parade he had all the flourishes of the drum-major, and at table all the busy curiosity and oily language of the frizeur. After exciting universal contempt against himself and his employers, during the period of his command here, he has been suddenly stripped of his full-blown honours, and condemned to vegetate hereafter on a small pension, which has been assigned to him; with permission, however, to retain the title of General Tribout.
The 21st of January was the anniversary of the execution of Louis XVI. an event which will be annually commemorated by very different ceremonies and emotions from what distinguished this day, when the political phrenzy that now agitates Frenchmen shall be evaporated. A play analagous to the occasion was performed at the theatre, gratis; the towers and forts on shore, and all the ships in the harbour, displayed their colours; and lastly, to prove their civism, the keepers of this dungeon put on their best clothes, and provided the best dinner I have seen since I have been taken. I ate of it, but not without a sigh for the cause which gave birth to this savage exultation over the manes of a mild and generous, though irresolute, monarch. And even here I feel pleasure in saying, all sensations of pity are not extinguished, all distinctions which should regulate the administration of justice are not obliterated. This very day a Frenchman whispered in my ear, “His death (the king’s) in spite of the veil which the convention threw over the real sentiments of the people, struck the hearts of the majority of Frenchmen with amazement and horror.” Of the memory of the queen he spoke less affectionately. He recounted to me some of the extravagant tales, which have been so industriously propagated against her; but in defiance of them, what unprejudiced mind can hesitate to pronounce, that the cruel and ignominious rigour of her confinement; the brutal and unmanly spirit that dictated the charges upon which she was tried; and the mockery of all justice with which she was prosecuted; joined to the violent death inflicted upon this unhappy princess (against whom report has been so loud, and proof so feeble) have fixed upon the annals of the revolution a stain, which will be indelible, while sentiments of tenderness and generosity towards women, and principles of equity towards the accused, are cherished in the human breast?