Books: Laperouse
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Ernest Scott >> Laperouse
In the course of the next few months Laperouse covered himself with
glory by his services on the AMAZON, the ASTREE, and the SCEPTRE, and
he hoped that these exploits would incline his father to accede to his
ardent wish. But no; the old gentleman was as hard as a rock. He
"tut-tutted" with as much vigour as ever. The lovers had to wait.
Then his mother, full of love for her son and of pride in his
achievements, took a hand, and tried to arrange a more suitable match
for him. An old friend of the family, Madame de Vesian had a
marriageable daughter. She was rich and beautiful, and her lineage was
noble. She had never seen Laperouse, and he had never seen her,
but that was an insignificant detail in France under the old Regime. If
the parents on each side thought the marriage suitable, that was
enough. The wishes of the younger people concerned were, it is true,
consulted before the betrothal, but it was often a consultation merely
in form, and under pressure. We should think that way of making
marriages most unsatisfactory; but then, a French family of position in
the old days would have thought our freer system very shocking and
loose. It is largely a matter of usage; and that the old plan, which
seems so faulty to us, produced very many happy and lasting unions,
there is much delightful French family history to prove.
Laperouse had now been many months away from Ile-de-France and the
bright eyes of Eleonore. He was extremely fond of his mother, and
anxious to meet her wishes. Moreover, he held Madame de Vesian in high
esteem, and wrote that he "had always admired her, and felt sure that
her daughter resembled her." These influences swayed him, and he gave
way; but, being frank and honest by disposition, insisted that no
secret should be made of his affair of the heart with the lady across
the sea. He wrote to Madame de Vesian a candid letter, in which he
said:--
"Being extremely sensitive, I should be the most unfortunate of men if
I were not beloved by my wife, if I had not her complete confidence, if
her life amongst her friends and children did not render her
perfectly happy. I desire one day to regard you as a mother, and to-day
I open my heart to you as my best friend. I authorise my mother to
relate to you my old love affair. My heart has always been a romance
(MON COEUR A TOUJOURS ETE UN ROMAN); and the more I sacrificed prudence
to those whom I loved the happier I was. But I cannot forget the
respect that I owe to my parents and to their wishes. I hope that in a
little while I shall be free. If then I have a favourable reply from
you, and if I can make your daughter happy and my character is
approved, I shall fly to Albi and embrace you a thousand times. I shall
not distinguish you from my mother and my sisters."
He also wrote to Monsieur de Vesian, begging him not to interfere with
the free inclinations of his daughter, and to remember that "in order
to be happy there must be no repugnance to conquer. I have, however,"
he added, "an affair to terminate which does not permit me to dispose
of myself entirely. My mother will tell you the details. I hope to be
free in six weeks or two months. My happiness will then be
inexpressible if I obtain your consent and that of Madame de Vesian,
with the certainty of not having opposed the wishes of Mademoiselle,
your daughter."
"I hope to be free"--did he "hope"? That was his polite way of putting
the matter. Or he may have believed that he had conquered his love for
Eleonore Broudou, and that she, as a French girl who understood his
obligations to his family, would--perhaps after making a few
handkerchiefs damp with her tears--acquiesce.
So the negotiations went on, and at length, in May, 1783, the de Vesian
family accepted Laperouse as the fiance of their daughter. "My project
is to live with my family and yours," he wrote. "I hope that my wife
will love my mother and my sisters, as I feel that I shall love you and
yours. Any other manner of existence is frightful to me, and I have
sufficient knowledge of the world and of myself to know that I can only
be happy in living thus."
But in the very month that he wrote contracting himself--that is
precisely the word--to marry the girl he had never seen, Eleonore, the
girl whom he had seen, whom he had loved, and whom he still loved in
his heart, came to Paris with her parents. Laperouse saw her again. He
told her what had occurred. Of course she wept; what girl would not?
She said, between her sobs, that if it was to be all over between them
she would go into a convent. She could never marry anyone else.
"Mon histoire est un roman," and here beginneth the new chapter of this
real love story. Why, we wonder, has not some novelist discovered these
Laperouse letters and founded a tale upon them? Is it not a better
story even told in bare outline in these few pages, than nine-tenths of
the concoctions of the novelists, which are sold in thousands? Think of
the wooing of these two delightful people, the beautiful girl and the
gallant sailor, in the ocean isle, with its tropical perfumes and
colours, its superb mountain and valley scenery, bathed in
eternal sunshine by day and kissed by cool ocean breezes by night--the
isle of Paul and Virginia, the isle which to Alexandre Dumas was the
Paradise of the World, an enchanted oasis of the ocean, "all carpeted
with greenery and refreshed with cooling streams, where, no matter what
the season, you may gently sink asleep beneath the shade of palms and
jamrosades, soothed by the babbling of a crystal spring."
Think of how he must have entertained and thrilled her with accounts of
his adventures: of storms, of fights with the terrible English, of the
chasing of corsairs and the battering of the fleets of Indian princes.
Think of her open-eyed wonder, and of the awakening of love in her
heart; and then of her dread, lest after all, despite his consoling
words and soft assurances, he, the Comte, the officer, should be
forbidden to marry her, the maiden who had only her youth, her beauty,
and her character, but no rank, no fortune, to win favour from the
proud people who did not know her. The author is at all events certain
of this: that if the letters had seen the light before old Alexandre
Dumas died, he would have pounced upon them with glee, and would have
written around them a romance that all the world would have rejoiced to
read.
But while we think of what the novelists have missed, we are neglecting
the real story, the crisis of which we have now reached.
Seeing Eleonore again, his sensitive heart deeply moved by her sorrow,
Laperouse took a manly resolution. He would marry her despite
all obstacles. He had promised her at her home in Ile-de-France. He
would keep his promise. He would not spoil her beautiful young life
even for his family.
But there was the contract concerning Mademoiselle de Vesian. What of
that? Clearly Laperouse was in a fix. Well, a man who has been over
twenty-five years at sea has been in a fix many times, and learns that
a bold face and tact are good allies. Remembering the nature of his
situation, it will be agreed that the letter he wrote to his mother,
announcing his resolve, was a model of good taste and fine feeling:
"I have seen Eleonore, and I have not been able to resist the remorse
by which I am devoured. My excessive attachment to you had made me
violate all that which is most sacred among men. I forgot the vows of
my heart, the cries of my conscience. I was in Paris for twenty days,
and, faithful to my promise to you, I did not go to see her. But I
received a letter from her. She made no reproach against me, but the
most profound sentiment of sadness was expressed in it. At the instant
of reading it the veil fell from my eyes. My situation filled me with
horror. I am no better in my own eyes than a perjurer, unworthy of
Mademoiselle de Vesian, to whom I brought a heart devoured by remorse
and by a passion that nothing could extinguish. I was equally unworthy
of Mademoiselle Broudou, and wished to leave her. My only excuse,
my dear mother, is the extreme desire I have always had to
please you. It is for you alone, and for my father, that I wished to
marry. Desiring to live with you for the remainder of my life, I
consented to your finding me a wife with whom I could abide. The choice
of Mademoiselle de Vesian had overwhelmed me, because her mother is a
woman for whom I have a true attachment; and Heaven is my witness
to-day that I should have preferred her daughter to the most brilliant
match in the universe. It is only four days since I wrote to her on the
subject. How can I reconcile my letter with my present situation? But,
my dear mother, it would be feebleness in me to go further with the
engagement. I have doubtless been imprudent in contracting an
engagement without your consent, but I should be a monster if I
violated my oaths and married Mademoiselle de Vesian. I do not doubt
that you tremble at the abyss over which you fear that I am about to
fall, but I feel that I can only live with Eleonore, and I hope that
you will give your consent to our union. My fortune will suffice for
our wants, and we shall live near you. But I shall only come to Albi
when Mademoiselle de Vesian shall be married, and when I can be sure
that another, a thousand times more worthy than I am, shall have sworn
to her an attachment deeper than that which it was in my power to
offer. I shall write neither to Madame nor Monsieur de Vesian. Join to
your other kindnesses that of undertaking this painful commission."
There was no mistaking the firm, if regretful tone, of that
letter; and Laperouse married his Eleonore at Paris.
Did Mademoiselle de Vesian break her heart because her sailor fiance
had wed another? Not at all! She at once became engaged to the Baron de
Senegas--had she seen him beforehand, one wonders?--and married him
in August! Laperouse was prompt to write his congratulations to her
parents, and it is diverting to find him saying, concerning the lady to
whom he himself had been engaged only a few weeks before, that he
regretted "never having had the honour of seeing her!"
But there was still another difficulty to be overcome before Laperouse
and his happy young bride could feel secure. He had broken a regulation
of the service by marrying without official sanction. True, he had
talked of settling down at Albi, but that was when he thought he was
going to marry a young lady whom he did not know. Now he had married
the girl of his heart; and love, as a rule, does not stifle ambition.
Rather are the two mutually co-operative. Eleonore had fallen in love
with him as a gallant sailor, and a sailor she wanted him still to be.
Perhaps, in her dreams, she saw him a great Admiral, commanding
powerful navies and winning glorious victories for France. Madame la
Comtesse did not wish her husband to end his career because he had
married her, be sure of that.
Here Laperouse did a wise and tactful thing, which showed that he
understood something of human nature. Nothing interests old
ladies so much as the love affairs of young people; and old ladies in
France at that time exercised remarkable influence in affairs of
government. The Minister of Marine was the Marquis de Castries. Instead
of making a clean breast of matters to him, Laperouse wrote a long and
delightful letter to Madame la Marquise. "Madame," he said, "mon
histoire est un roman," and he begged her to read it. Of course she
did. What old lady would not? She was a very grand lady indeed, was
Madame la Marquise; but this officer who wrote his heart's story to
her, was a dashing hero. He told her how he had fallen in love in
Ile-de-France; how consent to his marriage had been officially and
paternally refused; how he had tried "to stifle the sentiments which
were nevertheless remaining at the bottom of my heart." Would she
intercede with the Minister for him and excuse him?
Of course she would! She was a dear old lady, was Madame la Marquise.
Within a few days Laperouse received from the Minister a most paternal,
good natured letter, which assured him that his romantic affair should
not interfere with his prospects, and concluded: "Enjoy the pleasure of
having made someone happy, and the marks of honour and distinction that
you have received from your fellow citizens."
Such is the love story of Laperouse. Alas! the marriage did not bring
many years of happiness to poor Eleonore, much as she deserved them.
Two years afterwards, her hero sailed away on that expedition
from which he never returned. She dwelt at Albi, hoping until hope gave
way to despair, and at last she died, of sheer grief they said, nine
years after the waters of the Pacific had closed over him who had wooed
her and wedded her for herself alone.
Chapter IV.
THE VOYAGE OF EXPLORATION.
King Louis XVI of France was as unfortunate a monarch as was ever born
to a throne. Had it been his happier lot to be the son of a farmer, a
shopkeeper, or a merchant, he would have passed for an excellent man of
business and a good, solid, sober, intelligent citizen. But he
inherited with his crown a system of government too antiquated for the
times, too repressive for the popular temper to endure, and was not
statesman enough to remodel it to suit the requirements of his people.
It was not his fault that he was not a great man; and a great man--a
man of large grasp, wide vision, keen sympathies, and penetrating
imagination--was needed in France if the social forces at work, the
result of new ideas fermenting in the minds of men and impelling them,
were to be directed towards wise and wholesome reform. Failing such
direction, those forces burst through the restraints of law, custom,
authority, loyalty and respect, and produced the most startling
upheaval in modern history, the Great French Revolution. Louis lost
both his crown and his head, the whole system of government was
overturned, and the way was left open for the masterful mind and strong
arm needed to restore discipline and order to the nation: Napoleon
Bonaparte.
Louis was very fond of literature. During the sad last months of
his imprisonment, before the guillotine took his life, he read over 230
volumes. He especially liked books of travel and geography, and one of
his favourite works was the VOYAGES of Cook. He had the volumes near
him in the last phase of his existence. There is a pleasant drawing
representing the King in his prison, with the little Dauphin seated on
his knee, pointing out the countries and oceans on a large geographical
globe; and he took a pride in having had prepared "for the education of
Monsieur le Dauphin," a History of the Exploration of the South Seas.
It was published in Paris, in three small volumes, in 1791.
The study of Cook made a deep impression on the King's mind. Why, he
asked himself, should not France share in the glory of discovering new
lands, and penetrating untraversed seas? There was a large amount of
exploratory work still to be done. English navigators were always busy
sailing to unknown parts, but the entire world was by no means revealed
yet. There were, particularly, big blank spaces at the bottom of the
globe. That country called by the Dutch New Holland, the eastern part
of which Cook had found--there was evidently much to be done there.
What were the southern coasts like? Was it one big island-continent, or
was it divided into two by a strait running south from the head of the
Gulf of Carpentaria? Then there was that piece of country discovered by
the Dutchman Tasman, and named Van Diemen's Land. Was it an
island, or did it join on to New Holland? There were also many islands
of the Pacific still to be explored and correctly charted, the map of
Eastern Asia was imperfect, and the whole of the coastline of
North-Western America was not accurately known.
The more Louis turned the matter over in his mind, the more he studied
his globes, maps and books of voyages, the more convinced he was that
France, as a maritime nation and a naval Power, ought to play an
important part in this grand work of unveiling to mankind the full
extent, form, nature and resources of our planet.
He sent for a man whose name the Australian reader should particularly
note, because he had much to do with three important discovery voyages
affecting our history. Charles Claret, Comte de Fleurieu, was the
principal geographer in France. He was at this time director of ports
and arsenals. He had throughout his life been a keen student of
navigation, was a practical sailor, invented a marine chronometer which
was a great improvement on clocks hitherto existing, devised a method
of applying the metric system to the construction of marine charts, and
wrote several works on his favourite subject. A large book of his on
discoveries in Papua and the Solomon Islands is still of much
importance.
As a French writer--an expert in this field of knowledge--has written
of Fleurieu, "he it was who prepared nearly all the plans for naval
operations during the war of 1778, and the instructions for the
voyages of discovery--those of Laperouse and Dentrecasteaux--for
which Louis XVI had given general directions; and to whose wise and
well-informed advice is due in large part the utility derived from
them." It was chiefly because of Fleurieu's knowledge of geography that
the King chose him to be the tutor of the Dauphin; and in 1790 he
became Minister of Marine.
Louis XVI and Fleurieu talked the subject over together; and the
latter, at the King's command, drew up a long memorandum indicating the
parts of the globe where an expedition of discovery might most
profitably apply itself.
The King decided (1785) that a voyage should be undertaken; two ships
of the navy, LA BOUSSOLE and L'ASTROLABE, were selected for the
purpose; and, on the recommendation of the Marquis de Castries--remember
Madame la Marquise!--Laperouse was chosen for the command.
All three of the men who ordered, planned and executed the voyage, the
King, the scholar, and the officer, were devoted students of the work
and writings of Cook; and copies of his VOYAGES, in French and English,
were placed in the library of navigation carried on board the ships for
the edification of the officers and crews. Over and over again in the
instructions prepared--several times on a page in some places--appear
references to what Cook had done, and to what Cook had left to be done;
showing that both King Louis and Fleurieu knew his voyages and
charts, not merely as casual readers, but intimately. As for Laperouse
himself, his admiration of Cook has already been mentioned; here it may
be added that when, before he sailed, Sir Joseph Banks presented him
with two magnetic needles that had been used by Cook, he wrote that he
"received them with feelings bordering almost upon religious veneration
for the memory of that great and incomparable navigator." So that, we
see, the extent of our great sailor's influence is not to be measured
even by his discoveries and the effect of his writings upon his own
countrymen. He radiated a magnetic force which penetrated far; down to
our own day it has by no means lost its stimulating energy.
In the picture gallery at the Palace of Versailles, there is an oil
painting by Mansiau, a copy of which may be seen in the Mitchell
Library, Sydney. It is called "Louis XVI giving instructions to
Monsieur de Laperouse for his voyage around the world." An Australian
statesman who saw it during a visit to Paris a few years ago, confessed
publicly on his return to his own country that he gazed long upon it,
and recognised it as being "of the deepest interest to Australians." So
indeed it is. A photograph of the picture is given here.
The instructions were of course prepared by Fleurieu: anyone familiar
with his writings can see plenty of internal evidence of that. But
Louis was not a little vain of his own geographical knowledge, and he
gave a special audience to Laperouse, explaining the
instructions verbally before handing them to him in writing.
They are admirably clear instructions, indicating a full knowledge of
the work of preceding navigators and of the parts of the earth where
discovery needed to be pursued. Their defect was that they expected too
much to be done on one voyage. Let us glance over them, devoting
particular attention to the portions affecting Australasia.
The ships were directed to sail across the Atlantic and round Cape
Horn, visiting certain specified places on the way. In the Pacific they
were to visit Easter Island, Tahiti, the Society Islands, the Friendly
and Navigator groups, and New Caledonia. "He will pass Endeavour Strait
and in this passage will try to ascertain whether the land of Louisiade
(the Louisiade Archipelago), be contiguous to that of New Guinea, and
will reconnoitre all this part of the coast from Cape Deliverance to
the Island of St. Barthelomew, east-northeast of Cape Walsh, of which
at present we have a very imperfect knowledge. It is much to be wished
that he may be able to examine the Gulf of Carpentaria."
He was then to explore the western shores of New Holland. "He will run
down the western coast and take a closer view of the southern, the
greater part of which has never been visited, finishing his survey at
Van Diemen's Land, at Adventure Bay or Prince Frederick Henry's, whence
he will make sail for Cook's Strait, and anchor in Queen
Charlotte's Sound, in that Strait, between the two islands which
constitute New Zealand."
That direction is especially important, because if Laperouse had not
perished, but had lived to carry out his programme, it is evident that
he would have forestalled the later discoveries of Bass and Flinders in
southern Australia. What a vast difference to the later course of
history that might have made!
After leaving New Zealand he was to cross the Pacific to the north-west
coast of America. The programme included explorations in the China Sea,
at the Philippines, the Moluccas and Timor, and contemplated a return
to France in July or August, 1789, after a voyage of about three years.
But although his course was mapped out in such detail, discretion was
left to Laperouse to vary it if he thought fit. "All the calculations
of which a sketch is given here must be governed by the circumstances
of the voyage, the condition of the crews, ships and provisions, the
events that may occur in the expedition and accidents which it is
impossible to foresee. His Majesty, therefore, relying on the
experience and judgment of the sieur de Laperouse, authorises him to
make any deviation that he may deem necessary, in unforeseen cases,
pursuing, however, as far as possible, the plan traced out, and
conforming to the directions given in the other parts of the present
instructions."
A separate set of instructions had regard to observations to be made by
Laperouse upon the political conditions, possibilities of commerce, and
suitability for settlement, of the lands visited by him. In the
Pacific, he was to inquire "whether the cattle, fowls, and other
animals which Captain Cook left on some of the islands have bred." He
was to examine attentively "the north and west coasts of New Holland,
and particularly that part of the coast which, being situated in the
torrid zone, may enjoy some of the productions peculiar to countries in
similar latitudes." In New Zealand he was to ascertain "whether the
English have formed or entertain the project of forming any settlement
on these islands; and if he should hear that they have actually formed
a settlement, he will endeavour to repair thither in order to learn the
condition, strength and object of the settlement."
It is singular that the instructions contain no reference to Botany
Bay. It was the visit paid by Laperouse to this port that brought him
into touch with Australian history. Yet his call there was made purely
in the exercise of his discretion. He was not directed to pay any
attention to eastern Australia. When he sailed the French Government
knew nothing of the contemplated settlement of New South Wales by the
British; and he only heard of it in the course of his voyage. Indeed,
it is amazing how little was known of Australia at the time. "We have
nothing authentic or sufficiently minute respecting this part of the
largest island on the globe," said the instructions concerning the
northern and western coasts; but there was not a word about the eastern
shores.
The reader who reflects upon the facts set forth in this chapter
will realise that the French Revolution, surprising as the statement
may seem, affected Australian history in a remarkable way. If Louis XVI
had not been dethroned and beheaded, but had remained King of France,
there cannot be any doubt that he would have persisted in the
investigation of the South Seas. He was deeply interested in the
subject, very well informed about it, and ambitious that his country
should be a great maritime and colonising Power. But the Revolution
slew Louis, plunged France in long and disastrous wars, and brought
Napoleon to the front. The whole course of history was diverted. It was
as if a great river had been turned into a fresh channel.