The condition of the slave is certainly in itself that of vileness; but is that slave a vile being who, for a blow, pierces his bosom because he is unable to avenge it?  And what epithet can be given him who braves voluntarily a death seemingly certain, not from the love of his country, but from a principle of honour, almost incompatible with the dishonour of bondage?

During the siege of Yorktown, in America, we had, during one night, erected a battery, with intent to blow up a place which, according to the report of our spies, was your magazine of ammunition, etc.  We had not time to finish it before daylight; but one loaded twenty-four pounder was mounted, and our cannoneer, the moment he was about to fire it, was killed.  Six more of our men, in the same attempt, experienced the same fate.  My regiment constituted the advanced guard nearest to the spot, and La Fayette brought me the order from the commander-in-chief to engage some of my men upon that desperate undertaking.  I spoke to them, and two advanced, but were both instantly shot by your sharpshooters.  I then looked at my grenadiers, without uttering anything, when, to my sorrow, one of my best and most orderly men advanced, saying, “My colonel, permit me to try my fortune!” I assented, and he went coldly amidst hundreds of bullets whistling around his ears, set fire to the cannon, which blew up a depot of powder, as was expected, and in the confusion returned unhurt.  La Fayette then presented him with his purse.  “No, monsieur,” replied he, “money did not make me venture upon such a perilous undertaking.”  I understood my man, promoted him to a sergeant, and recommended him to Rochambeau, who, in some months, procured him the commission of a sub-lieutenant.  He is now one of Bonaparte’s Field-marshals, and the only one of that rank who has no crimes to reproach himself with.  This man was the soldier of a despot; but was not his action that of a man of honour, which a stanch republican of ancient Rome would have been proud of?  Who can explain this contradiction?

This anecdote about Fournois I heard General Savary relate at Madame Duchatel’s, as a proof of Bonaparte’s generosity and clemency, which, he affirmed, excited the admiration of the whole camp at Boulogne.  I do not suppose this officer to be above thirty years of age, of which he has passed the first twenty-five in orphan-houses or in watch-houses; but no tyrant ever had a more cringing slave, or a more abject courtier.  His affectation to extol everything that Bonaparte does, right or wrong, is at last become so habitual that it is naturalized, and you may mistake for sincerity that which is nothing but imposture or flattery.  This son of a Swiss porter is now one of Bonaparte’s adjutants-general, a colonel of the Gendarmes d’Elite, a general of brigade in the army, and a commander of the Legion of Honour; all these places he owes, not to valour or merit, but to abjectness, immorality,