These facts were imparted to me by a friend, who had known D ’Albignac in London, and who had met him after his return.

VIII.

Recollections of the emigration.

THE WEAVER

In 1794, M. de Rostaing, my cousin and friend, now military intendant at Lyons, a man of great talent and ability, and myself were in Switzerland.

We went to Mondon, where I had many relations, and was kindly received by the family of Troillet.  I will never forget their hospitality.

I was there shown a young French officer who was a weaver, and who became one thus:—­

This young man, a member of a very good family, was passing through Mondon, to join Condes army, and chanced to meet an old man with one of the animated heads usually attributed by painters to the companions of the famous Tell.

At their dessert, the officer did not conceal his situation, and received much sympathy from his new friend.  The latter complained that at such an age, he had now to renounce all that was pleasant, and that every man should, as Jean Jacques, says, have some trade to support themselves in adversity.

The conversation paused there; and a short time after, he joined the army of Conde.  From what he saw there, however, he saw he never could expect to enter France in that way.

Then he remembered the words of the weaver; and finally making up his mind, left the army, returned to Mondon, and begged the weaver to receive him as an apprentice.

On the next day the officer set to work, dining and sleeping with the weaver, and was so assiduous, that after six months, his master told him, he had nothing to teach him, thought himself repaid for the care he had bestowed, and that all he earned henceforth was his own profit.

When I was at Mondon, the new artisan had earned money enough to purchase a shop and a bed.  He worked with great assiduity, and such interest was taken in him, that some of the first houses of the city enquired after him every day.

On Sunday, he wore his uniform, and resumed his social rights.  As he was very well read, all took pleasure in his company, and he did not seem discontented with his fate.

The starving.

To this picture of the advantage of industry, I am about to add an altogether different one.

I met at Lausanne, an emigre from Lyons, who to avoid work used to eat but twice a week.  He would have died beyond a doubt, if a merchant in the city had not promised to pay for his dinner every Sunday, and Wednesday of the week.

The emigre came always at the appointed time, and always took away a large piece of bread.

He had been living in this manner some three months, when I met him; he had not been sick, but he was so pale that it was sad to see him.