His spirit of independence was such that he refused all presents, even the most trifling. A gentleman, on one occasion, sent him a dozen bottles of Newark cider. He returned them because it was not in his power to reciprocate. He became, with advancing years, very irritable in temper. In one of the debates in Congress in reference to his claims, a member spoke, as he thought, disrespectfully of him. He dressed himself in his uniform, belted a small sword at his side, and repairing to the gallery of the House, announced to all the acquaintances he met, that he was prepared to fight a duel with any gentleman who might give him occasion to do so. “If there is any bad blood in Congress,” said he, “I am prepared to draw it.” He always affirmed that he, and not Jones, captured the Serapis. The ship, he said, was compelled to surrender because he raked her with the guns of the Alliance. Thus this strange man lived for forty years, until he had attained the age of eighty-seven. He died, or, to use his own language, disappeared from this life, in the summer of 1818. As he was buried in the church-yard of St. Patrick’s Cathedral it is probable that he had returned to the Roman Catholic faith. Some unknown friend raised a plain marble slab over his remains with the inscription, beneath a cross: A la Mémoire de Pierre de Landais, Ancien Contre-Amiral au service Des Etats-Unis. Qui Disparut, Juin 1818. Age, 87 years.