quished so many enemies by my unshaken constancy, I was on the point of yielding to the intolerable pain occasioned by the vermin which infested my person. My dungeon was totally dark, my eyesight was nearly extinguished, and I tried in vain to deliver myself from the myriads of these noxious animals that assailed me at once; the dreadful irritation made me tear my flesh with my teeth and nails, until my whole body became covered with ulcers; insects generated in the wounds, and literally devoured me alive. It was impossible to sleep: I was driven mad with agony, my sufferings were drawing to a close, and death in its most horrid shape awaited me.'

Gloomy as appearances were, the dawn of a brighter day was at hand. A providential occurrence, which seemed calculated to destroy his last hope, was the cause of his redemption. In 1781, the President de Gourgue visited the Bicêtre, heard the story of Latude, desired that the captive would draw up a memorial, and promised to exert himself in his behalf. Latude wrote the memorial, and entrusted it to a careless messenger, who dropped it in the street. The packet was found by a young female, Madame Legros, who carried on in a humble way the business of a mercer, and whose husband was a private teacher. The envelope being torn by lying in the wet, and the seal broken, she looked at the

contents, which were signed 'Masers de Latude, a prisoner during thirty-two years at the Bastile, at Vincennes, and at the Bicêtre, where he is confined on bread and water, in a dungeon ten feet under ground.' The gentle heart of Madame Legros was shocked at the idea of the protracted agony which the prisoner must have suffered. After she had taken a copy of the memorial, her husband, who participated in her feelings, carried it to the president. But the magistrate had been deceived by the falsehood, that the captive was a dangerous, incurable lunatic, and he advised them to desist from efforts which must be fruitless. Madame Legros, however, who had much good sense and acuteness, would not believe that the captive was mad; she again read the memorial attentively, and could perceive in it no indication of disordered intellect. She was firmly convinced that he was the victim of persecution, and she resolved to devote her time and faculties to his deliverance. Never, perhaps, was the sublime of benevolence so fully displayed as by this glorious woman, whose image ought to have been handed down to posterity by the painter's and the sculptor's hand. In the course of her philanthropic struggles, she had to endure calumny and severe privations, she was reduced to sell her ornaments and part of her furniture, and to subsist on hard and scanty fare; yet she

never paused for a moment from the pursuit of her object, never uttered a sentence of regret that she had engaged in it. Her husband, too, though less personally active, has the merit of having entirely coincided with her in opinion, and aided her as far as he had the power.

It is delightful to know that her noble labours were crowned with success. Her toils, and the result of them, are thus summed up by Latude, who has also narrated them at great length: 'Being thoroughly convinced of my innocence, she resolved to attempt my liberation; she succeeded, after occupying three years in unparalleled efforts and unwearied perseverance. Every feeling heart will be deeply moved at the recital of the means she employed, and the difficulties she surmounted. Without relations, friends, fortune, or assistance, she undertook everything, and shrank from no danger and no fatigue. She penetrated to the levées of ministers, and forced her way to the presence of the great; she spoke with the natural eloquence of truth, and falsehood fled before her words. They excited her hopes and extinguished them, received her with kindness and repulsed her rudely; she reiterated her petitions, and returned a hundred times to the attack, emboldened by defeat itself. The friends her virtues had created trembled for her liberty, even for her life. She resisted all their entreaties, dis

regarded their remonstrances, and continued to plead the cause of humanity. When seven months pregnant, she went on foot to Versailles, in the midst of winter; she returned home, exhausted with fatigue, and worn out with disappointment; she worked more than half the night to obtain subsistence for the following day, and then repaired again to Versailles. At the expiration of eighteen months she visited me in my dungeon, and communicated her efforts and her hopes. For the first time I saw my generous protectress ; I became acquainted with her exertions, and I poured forth my gratitude in her presence. She redoubled her anxiety, and resolved to brave everything. Often on the same day she has gone to Montmartre to visit her infant, which was placed there at nurse, and then came to the Bicêtre to console me and inform me of her progress. At last, after three years, she triumphed, and procured my liberty.'

In the first instance, the boon of liberty could not be said to be more than half granted, Latude being ordered to fix his abode at Montagnac, and not to leave the town without the permission of the police officer of the district. As his fortune was entirely lost, a miserable pension of four hundred livres (about £16) was assigned for his subsistence. By the renewed exertions of Madame Legros, however, the decree of exile

despatches for the ships returning from the East, to advise them of the arrival of the French Squadron, under Suffrein, on the coast, and to put them on their guard.

The ship he commanded was ill-found, and in the voyage her stern-post grew so loose as to admit great quantities of water, and with difficulty she was prevented from foundering. He was therefore obliged to run for Madras, and off Pulicat discovered the French fleet going down the coast. He expected them to chase, and pressed with all sail for the shore, where a dangerous shoal probably prevented pursuit and capture; but the ship was so leaky, he was obliged to run her on the beach, to save the lives of himself and crew. He proceeded thence to Madras, just at the critical moment when the settlement was in the greatest distress. Sir Eyre Coote had marched to the south, and was so surrounded by Hyder Ali's army, that no supplies could reach him by land, and the French squadron, anchored at Pondicherry, had cut off all supplies by sea, so that the British troops were reduced to great difficulties and in danger of famine, their stores being nearly exhausted.

Several ships had been loaded with rice at Madras, but as the French fleet lay directly in the way, they dared not attempt the passage to Cuddalore, near which Sir Eyre Coote was encamped. The governor of

Madras, Mr. Smith, had heard of Mr. Wilson, and sending for him, inquired if he would attempt to carry down the ships with the supplies for the camp, stating the danger and hazard of the run, and offering him four hundred pagodas for the service, and more if he should be detained beyond a fortnight. The captain undertook to attempt the passage, and immediately made preparations for his departure.

He

The vessel in which he embarked was about five hundred tons burden, with three others under his command, all navigated by black men, himself being the only European, except an officer who went down as a passenger to the army. pushed on as far as Sadras, about sixteen leagues, where he took refuge under the Dutch flag, and despatched two hicarrahs to Sir Eyre Coote, to inform him of his approach, and to expect his orders. But the roads were so obstructed by Hyder's horse, that to avoid the marauding army, the hicarrahs were obliged to take a great circuit; and as they ventured to travel only by night, they were eleven days before they returned. They brought from the general the most urgent orders to proceed at all hazards, and without a moment's delay; adding, that if the captain brought only one vessel, and lost the rest, it would be of the most important service.

Wilson accordingly immedi

ately weighed anchor, proceeding at such a distance from Pondicherry as to see from the mast-head the French flag, and if possible, to pass them in the night undiscovered. The French fleet that very evening weighed anchor, occasioned by a singular circumstance, which was afterwards known. Suffrein had sent his water-casks on shore to be filled. Meanwhile Sir Eyre Coote had detached a corps of grenadiers and light infantry, who, entering Pondicherry, which was open on the land side since the fortifications had been demolished, found the casks lying on the beach, and destroyed them by staving them all; this induced Suffrein to run down to Point de Galle to repair the loss, just at the moment when Captain Wilson was passing in the offing. As Suffrein's ships sailed so much better than his, they were off Cuddalore in the morning, and Captain Wilson arrived in the afternoon, thus providentially escaping, and bringing in the whole of the cargoes entrusted to his care, and so much wanted by the army. They had been reduced to forty-five bags of paddy, and not a grain of rice to be procured. This supply rescued them from the impending famine, or the necessity of cutting their way through the enemy; and under God, was the means, as all acknowledged, of the preservation of the army and the Carnatic.

Captain Wilson had some

stores of his own, which were greedily seized and devoured as soon as landed. The next day he was invited to dine with the general and the staff, and was placed at Sir Eyre Coote's right hand, receiving the most cordial acknowledgments for his services. He informed the company of the seizure of his stores. They bade him prepare an account of them, and gave him a pagoda for every bottle of wine, and for the rest in proportion; so that this successful trip produced him about a thousand pounds, and a testimony of Sir Eyre Coote's high satisfaction in the service which he had performed.

Returning to Bengal, he continued to be employed in carrying down supplies. But on one occasion, while sailing with a very valuable cargo of military stores for Sir Edward Hughes, whose ammunition had been nearly exhausted in the wellknown conflict with Suffrein, he was unfortunately taken prisoner by the French, and carried into Cuddalore, which had recently fallen into their possession; and there he found the crew of the Hannibal in the same captivity. He was permitted, with other officers, to be at large on his parole, and hoped shortly to be exchanged.

Hyder Ali had at that time overrun and wasted a great part of the Carnatic; and in conjunction with the French, after taking Cuddalore, hoped to expel the English from all that