determine, but the fact is certain. [Sidenote: GENERAL DUMOURIEZ] I do not mean to compare Dumouriez to Mr. Fox, but nevertheless I was astonished to find, in a visit I made him (last June, ’96), that the partner of his solitude was much the most trifling, insignificant personage I had ever beheld. He was living in a wretched Westphalian hovel or barn near Hamburg, with little money and less estimation, and yet, contrary to what might have been imagined from his inordinate ambition and vanity, happier (I believe) there surrounded by his brood of well-disciplined ducklings than after the battle of Jemappes. I never saw him but once, and that in a way that might have offended a man less vain. Hearing from his relation, Chateauneuf, a bookseller at Hamburg, that he lived in the neighbourhood, I proposed making him a visit, that I might have the satisfaction of seeing one of the most conspicuous characters that had flourished in the Revolution. The motive excused the intrusion, and he was flattered. He is short and fat, and in person very unlike a Frenchman, but the deficiency in figure to prove him one is amply made up the moment he speaks. He is full of vivacity, _esprit_, and _agrément_, expressing himself pointedly and even energetically; and he may be very justly placed among the best specimens that remain of the genuine character of a Frenchman under the Monarchy. His pecuniary circumstances are very narrow--he is going to publish a 4th edition of his works, from which he hopes to obtain a maintenance. I believe he heartily repents the unlucky adherence to the Constitution that causes him to be out of his country, and prevents his rivalling Hoche and Buonaparte, for he could not conceal the envy excited by their glories. He is a man of an enterprising genius and undaunted courage, and would never incur the satire of Mr. Burke’s application of the story of the two generals, one of whom used to say upon a service of danger, ‘Allez, mes amis,’ and the other, ‘Allons, mes amis.’ He would always be for the latter. The unfortunate La Fayette and his family are just liberated from the dungeons of Olmutz, and mean to embark at Hamburg for that country from whence he imbibed those principles that have since deluged his country with a sea of blood.[162] Whatever his errors might have been by risking such a revolution merely to distinguish himself from the common crowd of courtiers, or to try to practise the theory of virtue and patriotism, his cruel captivity has extinguished rancour even in the breasts of his bitterest enemies. M. de Bouillé,[163] in his Memoirs just published, mentions his intentions as pernicious and his conduct as weak, but never represents him as meaning evil; and upon the whole the impression given is more that of pity than any other. Poor man! his faults are expiated in his sufferings. His character is that of a phlegmatic, cold-hearted man, with much vanity and slender abilities.