Laperouse | Page 8

was ordered to destroy the British
forts on the Hudson River. He attacked them with the SCEPTRE, 74
guns. The British had been engaged in their most unfortunate war with
the American Colonies, and in 1781, in consequence of wretchedly bad
strategy, had lost command of the sea. The French had been helping the
revolted Americans, not for love of them, but from enmity to their
rivals. After the capitulation of the British troops at Yorktown, a
number of loyalists still held out under discouraging conditions in
Canada, and the French desired to dislodge them from the important
waterway of the Hudson.
Laperouse found little difficulty in fulfilling his mission, for the
defence was weak and the garrisons of the forts, after a brief resistance,
fled to the woods. It was then that he did a thing described in our
principal naval history as an act of "kindness and humanity, rare in the
annals of war." Laperouse knew that if he totally destroyed the stores as
well as the forts, the unfortunate British, after he had left, would perish
either from hunger or under the tomahawks of the Red Indians. So he
was careful to see that the food and clothing, and a quantity of powder
and small arms, were left untouched, for, as he nobly said, "An enemy
conquered should have nothing more to fear from a civilised foe; he
then becomes a friend."
Some readers may like to see the verses in which a French poet has
enshrined this incident. For their benefit they are appended:--
"Un jour ayant appris que les Anglais en fuite Se cachaient dans un
bois redoutant la poursuite, Tu laissas sur la plage aux soldats affames,
Par la peur affoles, en haillons, desarmes, Des vivres abondantes, des
habits et des armes; Tu t'eloignas apres pour calmer leurs alarmes, Et
quand on s'etonnait: 'Sachez qu' un ennemi Vaincu n'a rien a craindre,
et devient un ami.'"
The passage may be rendered in English thus: "One day, having heard
that the fleeing English were hidden in a forest dreading pursuit, you
left upon the shore for those soldiers--famished, ragged, disarmed, and

paralysed by fear--abundance of food, clothes and arms; then, to calm
their fears, you removed your forces to a distance; and, when
astonishment was expressed, you said: 'Understand that a beaten enemy
has nothing to fear from us, and becomes a friend.'"
Chapter III.

THE LOVE STORY OF LAPEROUSE.
"My story is a romance"--"Mon histoire est un roman"--wrote
Laperouse in relating the events with which this chapter will deal. We
have seen him as a boy; we have watched him in war; we shall
presently follow him as a navigator. But it is just as necessary to read
his charming love story, if we are to understand his character. We
should have no true idea of him unless we knew how he bore himself
amid perplexities that might have led him to quote, as peculiarly
appropriate to his own case, the lines of Shakespeare:--
"Ay me! for ought that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or
history, The course of true love never did run smooth,"
During the period of his service in the East Indies, Laperouse
frequently visited Ile-de-France (which is now a British possession,
called Mauritius). Then it was the principal naval station of the French
in the Indian Ocean. There he met a beautiful girl, the daughter of one
of the subordinate officials at Port Louis. Louise Eleonore Broudou is
said to have been "more than pretty"; she was distinguished by grace of
manner, charm of disposition, and fine, cultivated character. The young
officer saw her often, admired her much, fell in love with her, and
asked her to marry him. Mademoiselle loved him too; and if they two
only had had to be consulted, the happy union of a well-matched pair
might have followed soon.
It signified little to Laperouse, in love, that the lady had neither rank
nor fortune. But his family in France took quite a different view. He
wrote to a favourite sister, telling her about it, and she lost no time in

conveying the news to his parents. This was in 1775. Then the trouble
began.
Inasmuch as he was over thirty years of age at this time, it may be
thought that he might have been left to choose a wife for himself. But a
young officer of rank in France, under the Old Regime, was not so free
in these matters as he would be nowadays. Marriage was much more
than a personal affair. It was even more than a family affair. People of
rank did not so much marry as "make alliances"--or rather, submit to
having them made for them. It was quite a regular thing for a marriage
to be