A kind reception by the enemy--Our shipmates all
prisoners--Consolations under misfortunes--Prisoners sent to the
hospital at Brest--Robbery by a French seaman--Running the
gauntlet--Dilemma of wearing or giving up a sword--Kindness of the
French nuns--Orders to march into the Interior--Wounded pride and
hard fare--Bad faith of the Minister of Marine--The march begins
for Verdun--Arrival at Landernau--Aristocratic differences in rates
of pay or allowances amongst republicans--Landiviziau--An
illustration of equality--Morlaix to Rennes--Prisoners and
vermin--Vitré--English dogs at a French inn--Laval--A spectacle for
the mob--Alençon--Difficulties increased--Part of the crew
separated from their officers--Our arrival at Rouen--An honest
gaoler and his amiable wife--A moderate bill for gaol fare--_Bons
garçons_ in a prison--Our arrival at Amiens--English sympathy for
suffering countrymen.
I was not disappointed in my expectations, for I was received with the
utmost civility. Every attention was paid to me, and I was provided with
a suit of dry clothes. They got me instantly (of which I never before
stood more in need) a warm draught, and gave each of my men a glass of
liquor, and ordered breakfast for them, with everything else that was
necessary to recruit exhausted nature, and to console them under their
sufferings and misfortunes. The poor fellows were in a most deplorable
state, shivering and shaking like aspen leaves; some of them were so
worn out with fatigue, hunger, and the extreme severity of the weather
that they could scarcely articulate when spoken to. The French officers
informed me also, that the whole of the boats, except mine and one
other, from the extreme violence of the weather, had been obliged to
make for Brest, and had arrived in the night; whilst they added that
they had been under the greatest apprehensions for our safety, as it was
not supposed possible, from the size of the boats and the manner they
were found, that they could exist through the severity of the night.
Lieut. Barker, Mr. Nepean, a midshipman, and now a commander, and Mr.
Carey, the boatswain (who afterwards died at Verdun), came on board,
from the other French ships-of-war in which they were prisoners, to
congratulate me on my extraordinary escape and safe arrival. We were,
however, under the strongest and most painful apprehensions that Mr.
Robert James Gordon, the midshipman who commanded the boat which had not
yet arrived, had perished with his companions.
The next day, the 11th, at 2 P.M., we were all sent on shore to the
hospital at Brest, which was the place assigned to us, as each
individual was more or less unwell from the hardships he had undergone.
To mark the character of the French seamen and of their naval service, I
must here relate that a small leathern trunk or valise, in which I had
saved a change of linen, etc., had been taken out of one of our marines’
hands, by a French sailor who spoke a little English, under the pretence
of saving him the trouble of carrying it down the ship’s side; whilst
the scoundrel, instead of putting it into the boat, handed it in through
one of the lower-deck ports. Our marine, who remained on the ship’s
gangway, had construed the transaction into an act of kindness, and
concluded that the trunk had been safely deposited in the boat which
was to carry us on shore; nor was the theft discovered until upon our
landing, when the humble, though to me invaluable, property could not be
found. I immediately communicated the fact to the officers who conducted
us, and they instantly sent on board an order to search for the valise.
In fact, they appeared excessively hurt that such an act of villainy
should have been committed by one of their crew. They assured me that
the perpetrator should be severely punished, and that my little
portmanteau should be safely returned. I despaired of this very much,
though I entertained little doubts of the first part of the promise
being faithfully kept. In the meantime, these officers conducted us to
the hospital, and insisted upon my wearing my sword all the way. The
captain had refused to receive it on board, observing that I had been
unfortunately wrecked, and not taken in fight, and, consequently, that I
had no right to lose my sword; and he further remarked, that, in his
opinion, we ought to be returned to our native country, and should not
be considered as prisoners; but he added that the gaoler on shore would
deprive me of my side-arms, which was afterwards the case.
On our arrival at the hospital, or rather prison (as we were closely
watched and guarded), the gaoler took away my sword, and appeared very
much enraged at my not allowing him to take my belt; this, I observed to
him, could do no mischief. I now had the inexpressible happiness of
shaking hands with all the officers, excepting Mr. Thomas (carpenter),
who was unfortunately drowned in attempting to land in Bertheaume Bay,
and Mr. Gordon (midshipman), who, I was very much pleased to hear, was
safe at Conquêt, where he had effected a landing. We expected him and
his boat’s crew round to Brest the following day.
On the 14th we had the pleasure of seeing him and his crew safely
arrived; they spoke very handsomely of the treatment they had received
at Conquêt and on the march. I now received part of the things that were
in the valise, and the thief, I was informed, had run the gauntlet.
We were very well used during our stay here, and were attended by
_religieuses_, or old nuns, which is a general custom in all the French
hospitals. They were the most attentive nurses I ever beheld: constantly
on the alert; visiting their patients; administering relief wherever it
might be wanted; and always solacing the dejected.
On the 18th we received information that we should commence our march
towards our depot on the following morning; and accordingly, on the
19th, we were ready at a moment’s notice. At about eight o’clock we were
all drawn up in the hospital yard. Mr. Mahoney and myself (being the
senior midshipmen) took our stations, as we were accustomed, next to the
lieutenants; but, to our great surprise, on the names being called over,
we were moved, together with Mr. Carey, the boatswain, and Mr. Simpson,
the gunner,[6] and placed next to the seamen. At the same time, each of
us was offered a loaf of brown bread for the day’s subsistence, which we
declined. We demanded of the French officers an explanation of this
extraordinary conduct, and they informed us that we were of a class
(master’s mates) different from any in their navy, and that they had,
therefore, ranked us as _adjutants_, or _sous-officers_, and they
insisted that they could not make any alteration. Lieut. Pridham now
interfered in our behalf. It appeared he had been made acquainted, on
the preceding night, that we should be thus ranked; but not being versed
in the regulations and titles of the French military service, he had
supposed that an adjutant was equal to a rank between a midshipman and a
lieutenant in our navy; and this, of course, he thought our proper
place. After remonstrating for a long time against the impropriety of
our being degraded to the ranks and put among the people, the officer
agreed to go to the Minister of Marine[7] to have the business, as he
termed it, arranged. He shortly returned; the Minister of Marine was
out, but we received an assurance from his head clerk or secretary that
the mistake should be rectified the moment he returned, and that a
courier would be despatched after us to the next stage with another
_feuille de route_. Thus far reconciled, we commenced our forced
march--and, as we were informed, for Verdun, in Lorraine,--although our
crew appeared quite indignant at this insult or disrespect offered to
their officers, and refused to move until we persuaded them to be
obedient.
At about seven in the evening we arrived at our first stage, the small
and miserable village of Landernau, about twenty miles N.E. of Brest. I
anxiously expected every moment the arrival of the courier, so little
was I then acquainted with the nature of French promises and with the
French character. Here, as a great favour, we were permitted to mix with
the officers. Our allowance was eleven sous, or 5½d. per diem; whilst
the youngest midshipman or volunteer had fifty. The allowance to the
men, I believe, was only five sous.
At daylight, on the 20th, we commenced our march, rather more dejected
than the day before. In the evening we arrived at Landiviziau, a
distance of five or six leagues from Landernau, than which it was much
smaller. Here we halted for the night, and the people were placed in
stables, barns, etc. At daybreak, on the 21st, we commenced our march
towards Morlaix. At about two in the afternoon, at four or five miles’
distance from the town, we were met by a captain of _gendarmerie_ and
two _gendarmes_, who, we understood afterwards, came out to escort us
into that place. They had not long joined us when I happened to discover
one of our ship’s boys lifting his hand to strike a young midshipman. I
immediately ran up and chastised the youngster with a switch I
fortunately had in my hand; but mark my amazement! when I beheld this
blustering captain of _gendarmerie_ foaming at the mouth, and riding up
towards me at full speed, with his sword drawn. He appeared to be in a
very great rage, swore vehemently, and wielded his sword repeatedly over
my head. As I did not understand a syllable of what he spoke, but was
certain it must be abusive language, from the passion he put himself
into, I, parrot-like, repeated his own expressions as well as I could;
which irritated him to such a degree, that had not the officer of
infantry who was escorting us, and our own officers, interfered, I do
not know to what length he might have carried the outrage. The officer
of infantry expostulated with him on the impropriety of drawing his
sword upon a naked prisoner, who could not even understand a word that
he said. He declared, and persisted in it, that I spoke as good French
as he did; that we were all prisoners alike; that we were now in a
country where every man enjoyed liberty; and he would take care that
whilst we were with him we should not tyrannise over one another; or, in
other terms, that the officers should be on an equality with the men. I
observed that some of the crew understood him, and that they explained
his meaning to others, which seemed to please them extremely.
We had not, however, marched more than a mile when a circumstance took
place which gave us all a fine specimen of the liberty boasted of in
this land of republicanism and equality. A poor man, who appeared to be
at least seventy years of age, happened to be conducting a cart along
the road, and as he was approaching us this lover of liberty called to
him to turn his horses aside until we had passed; but the poor
unfortunate old man not hearing, and continuing his way, this brute rode
up to him, and beat and mauled him so unmercifully that the seamen
literally hissed him, and asked repeatedly, “If that were the liberty he
had so much vaunted about a few minutes before?”
At about five in the afternoon we arrived at Morlaix. Our people were
lodged and treated for the night much as usual; but the officers,
including myself and Mr. Mahoney, were allowed to go to a tavern. On
inquiry I found that this redoubtable captain of the _gendarmerie_ had
been a weaver before the Revolution, and by his perfidy had got advanced
to the rank he held. I was informed that he visited our people in the
night, and used his utmost exertions to make them turn traitors and
enter into the French service. Most glad am I to say that he found all
his efforts fruitless; and to the honour of our country be it related,
that every proposal he made, every temptation he offered, was treated
with disdain.
On the 22nd, about eight, we again commenced our route, and, after a
long march, arrived at a small village, Belle-Isle-en-Terre, where we
remained for the night, disagreeably situated, the village being
excessively poor and small, the people extorting double prices for
everything; however, this I have since found to be almost general
throughout France.
On the 23rd, at the usual hour, about eight, we recommenced our route
towards Guingamp, where we arrived tolerably early. It is a spacious
town, and appeared well peopled. We rested here during twenty-four
hours, and were pretty well treated. The country, though late in the
season, appeared beautiful. It is very fertile, and yet the peasantry
seemed excessively poor and distressed.
On the 25th, at daylight, we recommenced our march towards St. Brieux,
the last town on the sea-coast that we had to touch at, and we arrived
at about four o’clock. We were very closely guarded, which certainly was
necessary, as the town was only a mile and a half from the sea, and it
was the intention of a great number to slip their fetters; however, this
proved impossible. We had another guard ordered, which we all regretted,
as the officer who had conducted us from Brest to this place was a
perfect gentleman, and preserved the utmost moderation towards the
prisoners--who were not, by the bye, at all times very well behaved. I
here planned an escape, but could not accomplish it.
At daylight, on the 26th, we recommenced our route with our new guard.
About ten, in passing close to the sea, we were halted; the guard
loaded their pieces, examined their locks, and did everything to
intimidate us and overawe any desire to resist them. They appeared to be
alarmed lest we should attempt to escape, though they were nearly as
many as their prisoners in number. It would have been a desperate
business, and no vessels were near in which 300 men could be embarked;
but the bare possibility of our escape had nearly induced us to run the
risk.
About five we arrived at Lamballe, and on the 27th, at eight, we were
put upon our march for Rennes. We arrived at our place of destination on
the 29th. The officers were allowed to go to a tavern, but we who were
still ranked as _adjutants_ were conducted to the common gaol; and,
notwithstanding a number of representations and remonstrances conveyed
to the general commandant of the town, we were kept in confinement until
the 2nd of March, having had at Rennes what was styled a day’s _séjour_.
Much rather would I have continued _en route_, as in this gaol we were
associated with malefactors and criminals of every denomination, and, in
despite of every effort, we found ourselves covered with vermin. We had
at length another guard placed over us, joined our officers, and were
very much pleased at being once more in the pure air.
We were now put upon our forced route to Vitré, where we arrived at
about eight o’clock on the evening of 2nd March, having on this day
walked the distance of nearly ten leagues, or about twenty-five English
miles. At this town we met with but sorry treatment under our
mortification and distresses. We had great difficulty to gain admittance
into any inn, and still greater to procure refreshments of any sort.
Upon remonstrating with the landlord about our miserable supper, and at
the exorbitant price he charged for it, he retorted by calling us
“English dogs,” and told us that we ought to be glad to get anything,
and that the officers and public authorities were to blame for not
placing us in a stable, or in some other place better appropriated to
such brutes than an inn. If he had his will, he added, he would very
soon treat us as such dogs deserved. In this strain he continued--a
strain much less to our annoyance than his bad supper and extravagant
charges. This specimen of the national feeling of France, at this period
of excitement, shows that the French thought well of English bulldogs,
at least with respect to their digesting a long bill of fare. The river
Vilaine runs through Vitré, and the town seems supplied abundantly with
fish.
At daylight, on the 3rd of March, we quitted our _polite_ and
_hospitable_ host, and were marched towards Laval, a tolerably large
town on the Mayenne, renowned for its linen manufactories. We arrived
about five in the evening, and were kept some time in the market-place,
as a _spectacle_ for the inhabitants, before we were shown to our
respective places for the night. Some of the people who could speak
English came to inform us that our gracious sovereign, George the Third,
had been dead several days and that the result would be a general peace.
We spurned at their intelligence, and, much to their annoyance, assured
them that we did not give them the smallest credit.
From Laval we passed through Préz-en-Paille, a very small town, to
Alençon, where we arrived on the evening of the 5th, and were allowed to
rest for twenty-four hours. Never was rest more needful to the
desponding and weary. We had now marched many days through bad roads
during an inclement season, and under all the feelings that deprive the
traveller of the elasticity of spirits which supports bodily health, and
enables him to conquer all difficulties, to undergo all fatigues, and to
disregard all privations. Hitherto our whole ship’s company, with their
officers, had been kept together, but now even this consolation was to
be destroyed. At Alençon the high-road branches off in two directions,
the one leading to Paris through Versailles, the other striking off to
the N.E. to Seéz, Bernay, and Rouen. Unhappily the French rulers had
ordered that what they termed “the officers” should travel to their
journey’s end by the former route, whilst the crew should proceed to
their destined place of imprisonment by the road through Rouen. Here the
mistake as to my rank by the Minister of Marine most seriously affected
me. I was not to be included in the grade of officer. The lieutenants,
midshipmen, and other officers were therefore ordered to march on the
road to Paris, whilst I and Mr. Mahoney, with the boatswain and gunner,
as _adjutants_, or no officers, were ordered to proceed with half of the
ship’s company by the road through Rouen to Charlemont, or Givet, in the
department of the Ardennes.
I confess this separation grieved me extremely. Parting with my
messmates and friends in a foreign country, together with the insult and
injustice of being placed in an inferior rank to my brother officers,
could not fail of producing the depression so natural to any honourable
mind. The feeling was reciprocal on the part of my brother officers, and
we separated with regret, they on the Paris route, and I and my
companions on the more dreary road of the north.
Leaving Alençon, we passed through Seéz and Bernay, and at length
arrived at Rouen, at about two in the afternoon of the 12th. The
hardships we underwent were inconceivable.
This large and splendid city, with its magnificent cathedral and
manufactures, and with the beautiful scenery that surrounds it, might
excite expectation and joy in the approaching traveller, but no such
sensations can be roused in him who has been exhausted in a prison, worn
out by fatigue, disgusted by ill usage, and who has the prospect only of
a long confinement.
Upon our arrival at Rouen we were all put into the common gaol, and it
was of a character to give us not a very favourable idea of prison
management or discipline in France. But I cannot pass over a
circumstance that had happened before our arrival. Trivial as it is in
one respect, it still illustrates the French character with respect to
impositions in inns, even in the provincial towns or small villages.
About nine in the morning of the day on which we entered Rouen, we were
halted at a village on the banks of the Seine, in order to procure
refreshment, and yet all we could get were eggs and bread. But if an egg
is to be eaten with a spoon, the spoon must bear some proportion to the
egg: here, however, we were supplied with pewter spoons of no ordinary
dimensions. I observed to the French officer who had us in custody, that
smaller spoons would be more convenient; and, as he could not deny a
truth so palpable, he asked the old lady of the house if she had any.
She replied in the affirmative, and, with alacrity, opened a large
coffer, and taking thereout six silver tea-spoons, placed them on the
table. With these spoons we ate our eggs, and, having finished our poor
repast, we called for our bill; but what was the surprise of us poor and
exhausted prisoners when, in our wretchedness, we found that the old hag
had charged us--what in a French village is not a trifle--a penny each
for the use of her silver spoons! Even the French officer was quite
amazed, and asked her what she could mean by such a demand. The old
mercenary creature, who proved herself a compound of extortion and
nationality, replied with _sang froid_, “You see, sir, these Englishmen
are so particular that they cannot even eat like other people. My spoons
have not been out of my chest for a number of years, and I am determined
they shall pay for the trouble they have put me to.” The officer in
charge ought to have resisted the imposition, but he made no such
attempt; and, being defenceless, we paid our pennies, and respectfully
wished the _honest old lady_ a good morning.
I had another opportunity in Rouen of witnessing French shrewdness. I
observed a number of brigs and small craft laid up in the river, in a
dismantled and totally neglected state, and I could not help expressing,
to one of the Frenchmen confined with us, my astonishment that those
vessels should not have been equipped and sent to sea upon some
commercial venture. “And where, sir,” replied the Frenchman, “would be
the use of the attempt when the English would have the vessels before
they had completed one voyage?” This was unanswerable.
The prospect down the Seine was grand and beautiful. My view, however,
was now changed to one of a very different character. The transition
from the delightful scenery, with Nature’s freshness and exhilaration,
to the miseries of a common gaol, was rapid, and much increased, in
this instance, by the gloomy countenance of the gaoler and his dear
companion of a wife. They exhibited to us a perfect specimen of
matrimonial concord, for both cordially agreed in accosting us in very
antipathetic terms; and they were still more matrimonially harmonious in
their assurances that if we did not instantly pay for _two_ nights’
lodgings we should be placed in cells not of the best description and
with culprits of the very worst. We could not entertain the slightest
suspicion of the veracity of these worthy people, nor could we conceive
a doubt that we were under the dominion of absolute and irresponsible
power; and, notwithstanding we knew that what these kind people had said
was a law, we took the liberty of asking why they demanded payment for
_two nights_; and in matrimonial concord they replied, “That we were
going to enjoy _one day’s_ rest in the gaol, and that the officer who
had escorted us had assured them of the fact.” There was no resisting
such logic, nor could we maintain the position that the French
Government ought to provide for its prisoners of war; and we were
reduced to the necessity of paying for the comfort of a two-nights’
lodging in gaol which we had the happiness of occupying for only one
whole day.
This French officer, whose name, to the best of my recollection, was
Galway, lived with us in all the small towns through which we passed,
professing a great deal of friendship for us, whilst we were paying his
expenses, and repeatedly declaring that he would prevent our being
confined in the gaol of Rouen--would be himself responsible for us on
account of our gentlemanly conduct, and by that means enable us to
remain at an inn. But, alas! so shallow was this honourable gentleman’s
memory that he even forgot to leave us our last day’s allowance, or
prisoner’s money, of eleven sous, or fivepence halfpenny sterling, and
did not recollect to give to his successor in power over us the
certificate he had received from our officers, stating our rank, and
explaining the unfortunate mistake that had been made upon this subject
at Brest. His keeping the point of honour, and of honesty and duty,
would have been of material service to us; but I suppose that he did not
even recollect, after he had disposed of us, that there was a gaol in
the city, for we never saw him or heard of him after we had been placed
under bars and bolts.
It was now that we came into terms with our host and his rib, and paid
them a sum, equal to two shillings each, for the two nights’ lodging.
This pleased them so much that they were convinced that we were officers
and gentlemen; and they conducted us, with a great deal of respect and
politeness, into an apartment in which there were two prisoners and
three beds. Two of the beds were assigned to us. Our room-mates, we soon
discovered, were debtors. The landlady very charitably observed that she
was certain that we must be faint and in want of refreshment; and she
kindly added that she would send us some bread and a bottle of good wine
for the present, and would procure us, _pauvres enfans!_ a comfortable
dinner in about an hour’s time; and then she and her husband, after a
thousand curtsies and bows, withdrew, not forgetting to turn the key in
the door and to take it with them. We all agreed that this was a
considerate, charitable, good woman; but much more did we extol her when
we saw the bottle of wine and loaf of bread. The man who brought it was
a smart, active turnkey, who said, “Mistress is very busy in cooking
dinner for the English captains. I have had the pleasure of waiting very
frequently on British officers in this prison--they were very
extravagant, and liked to live very well,” etc. But this conversation
did not by any means suit his present guests; so we made signs to the
fellow to be off. He quitted us, taking the same precaution that his
master had done. Our finances were ebbing fast, and we began to fear the
dinner which was preparing for us would not help to relieve them. I have
already observed that we had fivepence halfpenny _per diem_ allowed us;
but we were very frequently cheated even of that miserable pittance, and
had we not each procured a little cash at Morlaix on our private bills,
we should certainly have perished of want. The table was now prepared
with a cloth, a rare decency in a common gaol, and in a short time
dinner appeared, with two bottles of wine. It consisted of a little
fresh fish and a small joint of boiled mutton. The dishes were cleared
in a short time, without the smallest hope of a second course. We were
anxious to ascertain what the generous good dame could or would demand
for this _sumptuous_ repast, and inquired of our active waiter, who went
to his mistress; and forthwith she very kindly replied, “not to make
ourselves uneasy, it would be time enough the next day.” We accordingly
waited until the next day; but were determined to have nothing more
until we knew what we were in debt.
Our fellow-prisoners were particularly polite and attentive to us, and
gave us a hint that we were greatly deceived in our opinion of the
landlady; which we easily perceived the next morning when we insisted
upon hearing how much we had to pay for what she called dinner and wine.
She very coolly informed us, fifteen shillings! We imagined it might
have been about seven. However, it was in vain to attempt to explain; we
paid the bill, and were resolved to be more circumspect.
At about eleven o’clock some French naval officers came to inspect our
people, and gave some of them pieces of money, with an intention to
induce them to enter the French service. This I saw, as it was publicly
done in the gaol-yard, and I happened to be looking out of the window at
the time. I desired them to be particular in what they were about. One
man, a Dane (Hendrick Wilson, a very fine fellow, upwards of six feet
high, who had been taken by us and had volunteered into our service),
replied, “We will take what money they choose to give us, sir, and that
shall be all they will gain by coming here.”
On the morning of the 14th, about eight o’clock, a guard of cuirassiers
rode into the yard. The gaoler was very expeditious in giving us notice
that they came to conduct us on our march; so the bills were paid, and
everything settled to this man’s and his good dame’s satisfaction. We
were then conducted down into the yard and joined by the people. The
gaoler observed to the French officer and cuirassiers that we were _des
bons garçons_. This officer appeared to be a very affable, good kind of
person, of the true old French school before the character of the
inhabitants had been demoralised by the Revolution. He informed us that
Mr. Galway, his predecessor, had left him no certificates; but he
assured us that with him it should make no difference. All matters being
arranged, we commenced our march towards Amiens, where we arrived, after
a fatiguing march through the towns of Neufchâtel and Aumâle, on the
16th of March.
Our humane officer was as good as his word. In the small villages
between Rouen and Amiens he always took us to an inn and dined with us
himself; but in Amiens he could not prevent our being put into the gaol.
He, however, came frequently to see us, and remained with us for some
time. Understanding that there was an Englishman, a Mr. S. Pratt, who
kept an eating-house in this city, we sent to inform him that there were
some of his countrymen, prisoners of war in the gaol, who wished to
speak to him; but the only answer we received was that he was _busy_.
However, he sent Mrs. Pratt, who even shed tears at seeing the
distressed condition of her poor, dear countrymen.
This benevolent Christian appeared overpowered by the kindness so
natural to her sex, and by a generosity, for the display of which she
possessed a peculiar eloquence, she assured us that “if she had it in
her power she would give all the seamen shoes and stockings, of which
they stood so much in need, and a good dinner--that she would; but, at
all events, she would go and instantly get a good dinner for us, poor,
dear creatures! for we must be famished.” To this she added a great many
similar tender expressions.
She took a _cordial leave_ of each of us, and said that she would not
come again until late in the evening, for fear of her visits being
noticed; but she assured us that an excellent dinner should be sent as
soon as possible to her poor, dear countrymen. In about an hour we
received a small roasted leg of mutton, without any vegetables, with two
knives and forks, a little salt in a paper, and two bottles of very
inferior wine. We expected to have the opportunity in the evening of
expressing to the lady in person our sense of the excellence of the
dinner; but she never came near her “_dear_, dear countrymen!” She took
care, however, to send her man with the bill, the charges of which
exceeded those of the gaoler’s wife at Rouen!