But among all the many thousands of men who have been born, and have
lived, and died in the old houses of the venerable city, none, not even
among its bishops and counts, has borne a name which lives in the
memory of mankind as does that of the navigator, Laperouse. The sturdy
farmers of the fat and fertile plain which is the granary of France,
who drive in to Albi on market days, the patient peasants of the
fields, and the simple artisans who ply their primitive trades under
the shadow of the dark-red walls of St. Cecile, know few details,
perhaps, about the sailor who sank beneath the waters of the Pacific
so many years ago. Yet very many of them have heard of
Laperouse, and are familiar with his monument cast in bronze in the
public square of Albi. They speak his name respectfully as that of one
who grew up among their ancestors, who trod their streets, sat in their
cathedral, won great fame, and met his death under the strange,
distant, southern stars.

His family had for five hundred years been settled, prominent and
prosperous, on estates in the valley of the Tarn. In the middle of the
fifteenth century a Galaup held distinguished office among the citizens
of Albi, and several later ancestors are mentioned honourably in its
records. The father of the navigator, Victor Joseph de Galaup,
succeeded to property which maintained him in a position of influence
and affluence among his neighbours. He married Marguerite de
Resseguier, a woman long remembered in the district for her qualities
of manner and mind. She exercised a strong influence over her
adventurous but affectionate son; and a letter written to her by him at
an interesting crisis of his life, testifies to his eager desire to
conform to his mother's wishes even in a matter that wrenched his
heart, and after years of service in the Navy had taken him far and