Part 33

At the suggestion, Malone demurred, saying that it was not particularly their business, the night was severely cold, and it was absurd to be chasing a stranger on a bare suspicion, through the cold darkness and at the risk of their lives. But Perkins was not so easily daunted, and met each objection in a vigorous way. However, Malone could not be enlisted in the effort, and Perkins sallied forth in search of the sheriff, Theodore Brightwell, with whom he was soon on horseback, and they were making their way to Colonel Hinson's. Meanwhile Burr and his companion had reached Hinson's about twelve o'clock. Colonel Hinson was absent, and in response to the hailing at the gate, Mrs. Hinson glanced through the window, saw two men mounted, and went back to bed without responding. The travelers alighted, went into the kitchen, where a fire was still burning, and were warming themselves, when the sheriff, a relative of Mrs. Hinson, walked into the kitchen, having left Perkins on the roadside to await his return, as Perkins deemed it imprudent to show himself after having been talked to in Wakefield. Burr partly concealed his face with his handkerchief, and at first was the only occupant of the kitchen, as his companion had gone with the horses to a stable.

After a few hurried words, the sheriff aroused Mrs. Hinson, a supper was improvised, the strangers began eating, Burr was affable and chatty, was profuse in apology for the unseasonable interruption, and complimentary of the excellent supper. The sheriff had prepared Mrs. Hinson to ascertain, if possible, if either man was Burr, and while the sheriff stood over the fire, with his back to the company, and after Burr had retired to the kitchen, she asked his companion if she did not have the distinction of entertaining Colonel Burr. In much confusion, the companion arose without a word of reply, and joined Burr in the kitchen.

The sheriff rejoined them, engaged in conversation, and soon all were abed. The next morning, Burr expressed his disappointment at not meeting Colonel Hinson, and, strange to say, was soon mounted, together with the sheriff and his companion, the sheriff proposing to show the travelers the way out of the country, and well on toward Pensacola.

Meantime, Perkins was left to his fate in the cold. Finding toward morning that the sheriff apparently did not intend to return, Perkins made his way to Fort Stoddard by a rapid ride to the river, where he obtained a boat, and engaged a negro to row it down the river. The fort was reached about daybreak, Perkins notified Captain Gaines, the commander, of all that had taken place, and at sunrise, a troop were in their saddles, following Gaines and Perkins toward the road leading to Pensacola. About nine o'clock they met the three men on horseback--Burr, his companion, and Sheriff Brightwell. They were in fine spirits, and were chatting in a jocular way, when suddenly they were confronted by a troop of government cavalry. Burr at once recognized Perkins as the young man to whom he had talked the night before in the village of Wakefield. Then came a juncture.

BURR'S ARREST

With the glance of his eagle eye, Burr took in the situation at once, and in a moment was prepared for it. Captain Gaines saluted him, and asked if he had the honor of addressing Colonel Burr. Polite as the salutation was, Burr feigned great indignation in denying the right of a stranger to ask a question so impolite, of a traveler on the highway. Gaines cut short the tactics of the occasion by saying: "I arrest you at the instance of the Federal Government." In a burst of indignation, Burr again demanded to know his right and authority to arrest a traveler going in pursuit of private affairs on the public highway. In a perfectly cool way, Gaines replied that he was an officer of the army in possession of the proclamations of the governor of Mississippi, and of the President of the United States, directing his arrest. Burr reminded Gaines that though he was an officer, he was young and inexperienced, and might not be aware of the responsibility incurred in arresting strangers, to all which Gaines replied that he was willing to assume the responsibility, and would do his duty.

Heated by the obstinate coolness and evident determination of the young officer, Burr began to denounce the proclamation, as expressions of resentment and of malevolence, without justification, and resumed his advice of warning to Gaines of the hazard he was incurring by an undue interference of strangers on a public road. With iron coolness, Gaines ended the colloquy by telling Burr that his mind was made up, and he wished to treat him in a manner becoming his high office as vice president of the United States, all of which would be duly respected so long as Burr conducted himself becomingly, but that he would have to take him a prisoner to Fort Stoddard. Burr sat, and his eyes blazed while he looked at Gaines. Without further ceremony, Gaines moved with an order to his men, and Burr submitted.

The conduct of Sheriff Brightwell was never explained. He had left Perkins the night before on the edge of the road some distance from the Hinson home, did not arrest Burr, and was now on his way with Burr to Carson's Ferry, on the Tombigbee, to enable Burr to get to Mobile and make his way to Pensacola. Was the sheriff awed by the commanding presence of the distinguished man, unduly persuaded, thrown off of his guard by seductive and misleading logic, or was he influenced by the fact that his kinsman, Colonel Hinson, had some months before met Burr at Natchez, was charmed by him, and had invited him to his home to spend some time, or was there a bribe involved in the transaction?

Burr was taken to Fort Stoddard, where he was intent on making himself most agreeable by his courtly manner and pleasing address, and whiled away the days playing chess with Mrs. Gaines, the wife of the man who arrested him, and the daughter of Judge Harry Toulmin of Mobile. Burr was especially intent on showing every possible kindness to a brother of the commander at the fort, which brother was an invalid. Indeed, he won the hearts of all by his affableness and cheeriness of disposition.

Meanwhile, preparations were on foot to convey the noted prisoner to Richmond, Va., for trial. When the arrangements were completed, Burr was sent by boat up the Alabama River, along the banks of which curious crowds had gathered, to catch a glimpse of the notorious captive, among whom were many women, who when they saw him a helpless prisoner, some of them burst into weeping, and one of them was so fascinated by his manner and conduct, that she afterward named a son for him.

At a point called "The Boat Yard," Burr was consigned to the care of eight selected men, who were to escort him across the country on horseback to Richmond for trial. Two of the guard were of the federal cavalry, all were cool and determined men, and the guard was placed under the command of Nicholas Perkins, the young man who had procured his arrest.

Burr was dressed in the same garb which he wore when arrested, a round-about homespun coat, a pair of copperas trousers, and a sloughed beaver hat, once white, but now very dingy, which drooped at points, and a pair of dainty boots. A gaping crowd was present to see the departure, and as Burr mounted his horse to ride away, he lifted his hat in a manner so graceful as to waken a rousing cheer. He rode the same horse on which he was captured, and his equestrian appearance and qualities were superb. A tent was provided for his comfort, and at night while it was closely guarded, and while the wolves howled in the neighboring woods, he would sleep with all the comfort that a camp could afford. The party passed up through the counties of Monroe, Butler, Montgomery, thence to the Chattahoochee. The two federal soldiers rode closely beside him, and when entering a swamp, the entire party would gather close about him.

Among the incidents of the journey was that of a tavern-keeper just beyond the Chattahoochee, who on learning that the party, which had stopped at his rural hostelry for the night, had come from the region of the Tensas, quizzed his guests with many questions, and to the embarrassment of all, turned his loquacity toward the rumor that had reached him of the arrest of "that dangerous scoundrel, Aaron Burr," and wished to know if they knew anything of it. All present dropped their heads in confusion, but Burr, who fixed his flashing eyes on the garrulous fellow, and when the innkeeper began his denunciation of Burr, saying what he would like to do for him if he could "lay eyes on him," Burr straightened up with his full of fire eyes and said, "I am Aaron Burr, now what'll you have?" The tavern-keeper vanished in a moment, and his lips were hermetically sealed till the party left, while his attentions were most profuse.

Burr made but one effort to escape. In South Carolina, where lived his son-in-law, Col. Joseph Alston, who was afterward governor of South Carolina, Burr felt that he was somewhat known, and one afternoon late, as the squad approached Chester Courthouse, and was passing the tavern, where a large crowd was gathered, Burr leaped from his horse, and exclaimed, "I am Aaron Burr, gentlemen, under military arrest, and claim the protection of the civil authorities." Perkins and several of the guard dismounted, and ordered him to remount his horse, which he defiantly declined to do, when Perkins threw his arms about him and flung him into his saddle, and the party galloped away. The crowd looked on with wonder, and to them it was only a strange proceeding of a prisoner under guard who was seeking to escape, and the sensation turned out to be merely momentary. A vehicle was bought, Burr was placed in it with a guard, and no further trouble was had to the end of the journey.

A DREAM OF EMPIRE

The fall of Napoleon at Waterloo, created consternation in the ranks of his adherents. In rejoining him after his return from Elba, they had staked all on his attempt to regain the empire. When he fell, his supporters were in a worse plight than was he. A number of the best were shot, among them Marshal Ney, while many others fled penniless to different parts of the earth, among whom was a large and respectable body who came to America. These included Marshal Grouchy, who was charged with being the occasion of the defeat at Waterloo, and others whose names will appear in this narrative. This body of refugees sailed for America, where they hoped to build a miniature empire in a remote quarter of the American continent, with such construction that while they would be able to imitate their life in France, by having their own local laws, they would at the same time bring themselves into practical conformity to the constitution of the United States. We shall see how fully their dream was realized.

Once in America, they elicited the aid and co-operation of a Dr. Brown, of Kentucky, who had spent much time in France, knew the French people, and was endeared to them. Dr. Brown acted as an interagent between the French and the Federal Government in the introduction of the cause of the refugees. That which they sought was the utmost confines of western occupation, for two reasons, one of which was because of the cheapness of the land, and the other was because of its segregation. At that time the Tombigbee was that western boundary. Here was to be established a new France, with its growth of olive trees and grape vines. To the ardent French this was a rosy dream, and on these western borders they saw in vision, mansions and palaces, spacious grounds, and the affluence of gay society to which they were accustomed in their own brilliant capital on the Seine. Dreams like these heartened the host and eclipsed all care and worry, and banished the prick of ills to which they were destined to be subjected. Arriving at Philadelphia, they lingered for many months during the negotiations with the American Government for a domain of land on the distant Tombigbee. They commissioned a French statesman, Nicholas S. Parmentier, as their agent to consummate the plan. There was accordingly adopted a bill by the American congress in March, 1818, granting to these refugees four townships fronting on the Black Warrior River, in the present County of Marengo. This land was sold at $2 an acre, payable within fourteen years, provided the olive and the vine were produced. The land was divided by themselves, as a stock company, each one of the three hundred and fourteen families taking quantities of from eighty to four hundred and eighty acres. In contemplation of a town to be built, there was assigned additionally to each head of a family, a lot within the proposed city, and one on the suburbs.

With this arrangement completed, the novel colony was to sail at once and occupy it. Accordingly a schooner, the McDonough, was chartered to convey the company, numbering about one thousand five hundred in all, to Mobile, when they were to make their way up the river to their final destination. With their varied household effects, the vivacious French set sail from Philadelphia in April, 1818, and for more than a month, slowly sailed down the coast of the Atlantic.

During the following May, late one afternoon, Lieutenant Beal, the commander of Fort Bowyer, near Mobile, saw in the distance, a vessel wrestling with a gale which was sweeping that quarter of the sea. Through his glass, the commander could see the direction in which the vessel was bearing, while sorely tossed by the wind, which was blowing at a fearful velocity. The captain of the McDonough had a chart which was out of date, and Beal saw that the vessel was heading rapidly toward danger. He fired a cannon as an alarm gun, hoping thereby to arrest the erroneous course of the vessel. The day was now far advanced, and darkness settled over the face of the sea. Beal took the precaution to erect lights along the shore, and some time after night, he heard the signals of distress from the unfortunate McDonough.

While the wind was still very high and fierce, Beal did not think that the vessel should be left to its fate, and called for those who would volunteer to go with him in as large boat as they had at command, to the rescue of those on the vessel. The McDonough had struck, and was lying in the thick gloom at the mercy of the waves, in the sand into which an obsolete chart had directed the captain. Accompanied by five brave men, Beal plunged into the darkness with the boat, and guided by the dim lights of the vessel, he was enabled to reach it somewhat after midnight. Everything on board the vessel was in commotion, as every fresh wave threatened to engulf it, but Beal coolly proposed to save, if he could, the women and children, whom he crowded into his boat and set out on his return toward the fort through the dense gloom. After much struggle the boat was safely brought to the fort, and the women and children were saved. Luckily the vessel was later released by the waves from its perilous condition in the sand, and in the early morning was washed into deeper water, and though crippled by the accident, was saved, and in due time pulled into port at Fort Bowyer. There was great glee and sport among the French after it was all over, as they would joke each other with that which happened. They soon forgot the seriousness of the situation to which they were only a few hours before exposed, and gave themselves again to jollity and song.

In expression of their just gratitude to the brave lieutenant who had been the occasion of so much timely aid, they proposed to take him with them to Mobile, and give him a banquet. This was accordingly done, vivacity ran high amidst sparkling wines and merriment unconfined, and the gay throng in the banquet hall little resembled a colony driven by disaster from their native land, and so recently exposed to death.

At Mobile, the McDonough was dismissed, and plans were at once adopted to provide flatboats and barges to convey the company up the winding Tombigbee to their future home among the wilds of Western Alabama. Of their future experiences we shall hear later.

THE TRIP AND SETTLEMENT

It was a gay and mirthful throng that was gathered on board the rough flatboats, at the wharf of Mobile, on the morning of the departure of the French for their settlement far up along the Tombigbee. One would have thought that it was a huge picnic party instead of a people fleeing from oppression, with all the novelties of an untamed region to be grappled with. Distinguished French generals were among them, men who had for years shared in the bloody campaigns of Napoleon. There were also eminent men of science, educators, merchants, and statesmen, with their wives and children. The delicate French women still wearing their Parisian styles, and beautifully dressed children, young men and women, and a few servants constituted the multitude now slowly pulling out from Mobile for a long and torturous trip up the river. More incongruous conditions can scarcely be imagined.

In those primitive days before the use of steam, the barges had to be heavily dragged against the upstream current by the use of long poles planted into the bank of the stream from the stern of the vessel, while at the same time long poles with iron beaks were used from the bow, by being fastened to trees or projecting rocks. The proceeding was torturous enough, but nothing dampened the ardency of these effervescent French, and every incident was turned into a fresh outburst of jollity, and seriousness was tossed to the winds.

At night, they would build their campfires on the bank of the river in the edge of the primitive forests, and after the evening meal, the violin, guitar and the accordion would be brought into requisition to repel dull care, and regale themselves on the tedious passage. The wild flowers were in bloom, and the early fruits were already ripening in the woods, and not infrequently the company would stop at some inviting point and spend a day picking flowers and fruits, romping the woods, and frolicking.

Thus wore away two or three months during which they were making their way from Mobile to the present site of Demopolis. They were not without competent guides, of course, to direct them to the point of their future homes on the wild prairies, and when the junction of the Tombigbee and the Black Warrior was reached they landed on the white, chalky banks to begin life on the frontier. Along the bank for some distance were strewn their household goods, of every conceivable article--oval-topped trunks with big brass tacks, carpetbags, chests of divers colors and of varied size, bundles carefully wrapped, demijohns, military saddles, swords, epaulettes, sashes, spurs, bandboxes, violins, guitars, and much else that made up the medley of more than three hundred families, who were about to enter on a wilderness life on the prairies of West Alabama.

They had provided themselves with a few tents, which were promptly brought into use, while improvised habitations were at first constructed of the tall canes which grew wild along the river, and of the lithe saplings cut from the clumps of trees which dotted here and there the prairie over. The prairies were now in their floral beauty, while the young, tender cane was just springing, undermatted with luxuriant grass, with here and there a dash of wild strawberries. In dry weather the surface of the land was flinty with abounding fissures, while during the rainy season it was converted into a soft, waxy, black mud. These bright and pretty French women, used to the gilded salons and festive scenes of Paris, found a complete reversal of conditions in this wild and inhospitable region, but their native joviality never forsook them. Novelties and mistakes were turned into laughter, and roughness into cheeriness. They would promptly adjust themselves to conditions, and would meet them with burst after burst of jollity. They shared in the sentiment expressed by the trivial John Gay, who wrote:

"Life is a jest, and all things show it, I thought so once, and now I know it."

Donning their dainty garbs, these unconquerable French women did not hesitate to cook, wash, iron, hoe in their gardens and yards, or join their husbands in efforts of a more serious nature, in tillage, and in the erecting of log houses. Their lightness of heart was a cordial in the conditions of actual gloom which sometimes confronted them, but they would never repine, and would decline to take conditions seriously.

The personnel of this novel colony was most interesting. Marshal Groughy was classed by them with that segment of society called by Mr. Roosevelt "undesirable citizens," because of the affair at Waterloo, and was left behind in Philadelphia, though he was one of the allottees of the land procured, but got another to occupy it for him. The stigma of the defeat of Waterloo was his, and this made him most unpopular. But Count Desnoettes, who was a cavalry general in Napoleon's army, and a great favorite with the Emperor, was of the colony. Napoleon loved Desnoettes because of his fighting qualities, and because of his exceeding attractiveness of person. He accompanied Bonaparte on the memorable retreat from Russia, and when the French officers were gathered at Fontainebleau, on the eve of Napoleon's departure to Elba, and all were weeping, he embraced Desnoettes, saying that he would avail himself of this means of bidding all farewell.

Penier was a distinguished statesmen; Colonel Raoul was a distinguished cavalry fighter, who had accompanied Napoleon in his exile to Elba, and afterward led the advance guard on the return of the Emperor to France after escaping from his island imprisonment. Madame Raoul was a handsome Italian woman, a native of Naples. Cluis was one of the aids of Marshal Lefebvre; Chaudoin was a French poet of note; Clausel was a count; L'Allemand was a lieutenant general of artillery under Napoleon; Lackonel was a savant, who was at the head of the department of education, in the empire, during the regime of Napoleon, together with others of equal note.

All of these notables were once residents of Alabama, and encountered the conditions of pioneer life on its western plains. Of some of the ups and downs of this strange colony something will be said in the next article.

LIFE IN THE FRENCH COLONY

One may easily infer from that already said about these peculiar colonists, who settled in the early years of the nineteenth century, at the confluence of the Tombigbee and Black Warrior Rivers, that life under such conditions must have been strikingly novel throughout. It was an attempt to graft an exceptional European civilization, with all its traditional peculiarities of many centuries, into the raw wilderness conditions of western civilization, and to preserve intact, the customs of the gay Gallic capital of Europe, on the prairies of black mud in Alabama. The log huts which lined the streets of primitive Demopolis, were made as nearly palaces as they well could be, and the streets themselves were lighted at night, in imitation of the French capital. It was a play doll performance, as pathetic as it was patriotic and loyal.