Normandie, prison-ship, Brest
Water, 7th Dec. 1794.
ADMIRAL BLIGH has been allowed to visit us twice or thrice since our separation took place. He still remains on board Le Marat, with his son, a little boy of ten years old, and two young midshipmen, who are also permitted to be with him. Until this day he has been unable to give us any information, and was even ignorant of what was to be his own lot. He is now promised to be sent, on his parole, to Quimper, in Bretagne; and in addition to innumerable proofs of kindness and regard, which I have experienced from him ever since I have been under his command, he has honoured me by obtaining leave for me to accompany him, as his aid-de-camp and interpreter. Since my last letter he has been on board La Montagne, to see Vice Admiral Villaret de Joyeuse, the commander in chief of the fleet here, and who acted in that capacity against Lord Howe on the first of June. He told me that he was very politely received, and was pressed to accept of pecuniary assistance, which he declined; but Admiral Villaret plainly hinted to him, that he was obliged to suppress much of the regard which he wished to show to him, from the delicacy of his situation, in the present temper of the times. Monsieur Renaudin, late commander of the Vengeur, who was taken, after the sinking of his ship, on the first of June, and is just returned from England, has visited him on board Le Marat. This gentleman declares, in loud terms, the humanity of the English, and the polite attentions he received from many of our most distinguished naval officers, whose generosity left him no want: Of this list I remember the names of Lord Howe, Admiral M‘Bride, Captain Bentinck, and Captain Schomberg. Monsieur Renaudin also made a tender of his purse to Admiral Bligh; but I have reason to believe, that it was not done with that explicit frankness, which could hope to supersede the offer of Monsieur Villaret, even had it been made previously to it. By the way, the re-appearance of Renaudin, does not a little astonish the French; for the convention, in order to gratify the national vanity, and inflame the minds of the people against the English, had publickly announced, that Le Vengeur, with all her crew, sunk with colours flying, disdaining to accept of quarter from slaves whom they despised; and a decree was even passed, to perpetuate this heroic resolution, by erecting a monument to the memory of the event.
I am sorry to say, that Monsieur Renaudin echoed the profession of his commander in chief, in lamenting that the political prejudices which reign here will prevent him also from acting up to the extent of his wishes, in attending to the English, and the Admiral in particular. What evils do not these political phrenzies generate? Be this as it may, I am all alive at the thought of the scene about to burst upon me; and there are moments when I am almost tempted not to regret a captivity, which opens an inlet into this extraordinary country at such a period as the present; but these momentary illusions flit before the memory of the scenes I have left behind. Can curiosity, all-powerful as it is, stand in opposition to love and friendship? Let me, however, but quit La Normandie, and then we will strike the balance. To-morrow I am to bid adieu to her darksome round: how joyfully! And yet I shall not leave without a tear of commiseration those gallant comrades, with whom I have so lately fought, and so severely suffered.
The few remarks I have been able to make are entirely nautical. I shall detail them to you when I can revise them at my leisure at Quimper. From a fear of being searched, I have used some extraordinary precautions to secure them; and if they be found they will not be easily understood, for I have so transposed the natural order of the sentences, and so intermixed words from all the languages which I could recollect (not excepting that of New Holland) that it would puzzle the interpreter of the convention to decypher them.—— Adieu.
LETTER IV.
Le Marat, Brest-Water,
15th Dec. 1794.
THAT leisure which I so lately looked forward to at Quimper, seems likely to be afforded to me here. I was removed from the prison-ship on the 8th instant, and allowed to bring my servant with me, expecting to be sent immediately on parole; but this event, like the resolutions of the Dutch councils, seems to be put off ad referendum. We receive daily assurances that it is to take place, and are daily disappointed of seeing it arrive. I enjoy, however, the society and conversation of the Admiral; and as he does not speak French, I am the chief medium through which he communicates with those who surround him, Captain Le Franq, who is married, living almost entirely on shore. So that here I remain, with nothing to do but to ask and answer questions from morning to night. These are chiefly nautical; and as you know my sentiments on the consequence of all naval concerns to Englishmen, I am induced to believe you will concur with me in thinking the subject momentous, however trite the remarks, or unimportant the observations of your correspondent may prove.
Whether Selden’s assertion, that “we have an hereditary uninterrupted right to the sovereignty of our seas, conveyed to us from our earliest ancestors, in trust for our latest posterity,” be perfectly deducible either from the nature of things, or from the authority of history, I shall not stay to enquire. But I will venture to affirm, that when we suffer this right, however acquired, to depart from us, the sun of England may be truly said to be set for ever.
When the question of the relative naval strength of the two nations is agitated, which it often is, I am tempted to cry out to my country, in the words of the Grecian oracle,—“Trust to your wooden walls.”—I am the more confirmed in this opinion, from reading every day in the bulletins of the astonishing successes of this people, both in the Pyrenees, and on the frontier of Holland. They openly boast of being able, in a short time, to penetrate to Madrid; to force the German powers to peace; and to totally subdue the Dutch.—And then “Delenda est Carthago.” I accuse not those with whom I converse of using this, or any other Latin phrase; but you will smile on being told that they habitually call us Carthaginians, and themselves Romans. They pay us, however, the compliment of declaring, that we are the only enemies worth combating. They stigmatize the Spaniards as cowards: at German tactics, when opposed to the energy and enthusiasm of republicans, they laugh: Dutch apathy can alarm no one. But this respect is confined to our naval character. Our impotent interference and puny attempts on the Continent they treat only with ridicule and derision. This spirit is not new: A noble lord, now high in rank in the British army, told me nearly twenty years ago, when we were on service together in America, that when he was very young, and travelling in France, a general officer, on hearing him relate that he was designed for the army, expressed his surprize that any Englishman, to whom the choice was left, should hesitate to prefer entering into the navy. Are the scorn and contempt of our enemies necessary to teach us in what our true grandeur, our real national pre-eminence, consists? It is certain that at present we far surpass them in the number of our ships, in the dexterity of our seamen, and in the interior regulations of our service; but I am persuaded, that they will hereafter strain every nerve to equal and exceed us. I know, that by very high authority the naval power of France has been denominated “forced and unnatural;” but let those who apply to it epithets so devoid of knowledge and reflection, remember the short period in which Louis XIV. created this navy, and its resurrection in 1778, when, to the astonishment of all Europe, notwithstanding its wasted and disastrous condition but fifteen years before, it suddenly started up, singly, to contest the empire of the sea with Britain, and for four years (until the 12th of April 1782) poised the scale of victory against its formidable antagonist.
Nature has denied to France a port in the Channel, capable of receiving large ships; but if art can supply the deficiency, they seem determined to employ it to its utmost extent. Whether the works at Cherbourg are proceeding or not, I cannot exactly learn; but it is certain, that the scheme of rendering it secure for line of battle ships is not utterly abandoned; and who can doubt, that it will either be carried on there, or in some neighbouring port, with accelerated vigour, on a return of peace? Their warlike spirit now runs so high, and is so universally diffused, that many years must elapse ere it will subside. It is a train of gun-powder, to which, in the present temper of the people, a spark will give fire. A hatred of England is fostered with unceasing care. In nothing does this inveterate spirit against us demonstrate itself so bitterly, as in the abhorrence with which they always mention our taking possession of Toulon: “You gained it like traitors; you fled from it like poltroons.” On the celebrated measure of making them a present of four ships of the line, and six thousand of their best seamen, which were sent to Brest and Rochfort from the Mediterranean, they often make themselves merry, and us serious, by pointing out the ships as they now lie near to us, equipped and ready for sea; and by affirming, that the supply of men thus received enabled them to fit out those cruizing squadrons which have so sorely distressed our commerce.