LOUIS VANHILLE: A FAMOUS ESCAPER
I devoted Chapter VII to the record of Tom Souville, a famous
ship-prison-breaker, and in this I hope to give quite as interesting and
romantic an account of the career of Louis Vanhille, who was remarkable
in his method in that he seemed never to be in a hurry to get out of
England, but actually to enjoy the power he possessed of keeping himself
uninterfered with for a whole year in a country where the hue and cry
after him was ceaseless.
At the outset I must make my acknowledgement to M. Pariset of the
University of Nancy, for permission to use his monograph upon this
really remarkable man.
Louis Vanhille, purser of the _Pandour_ privateer, was sent to
Launceston on parole May 12, 1806. He is described as a small man of
thirty-two, of agreeable face and figure, although small-pox marked,
fair as befitted his Flemish origin, and speaking English almost
perfectly. He was socially gifted, he painted and caricatured, could
dress hair, and could make mats, and weave bracelets in seventeen
patterns. He was well-off to boot, as the _Pandour_ had been a
successful ship, and he had plenty of prize money.
In Launceston he lodged with John Tyeth, a pious Baptist brewer. Tyeth
had three married daughters and two unmarried, Fanny and a younger, who
kept the Post Office at Launceston. Although Tyeth was a Baptist, one of
his daughters was married to Bunsell, the Rector of Launceston, so that
decorum and preciseness prevailed in the local atmosphere, to which
Vanhille politically adapted himself so readily as to become a convert
to Tyeth’s creed. In addition he paid marked attention to Miss Fanny,
who was plain-looking but kept the Post Office; an action which
occasioned watchfulness on the part of Tyeth _père_, who, in common with
most Englishmen of his day, regarded all Frenchmen as atheists and
revolutionaries. Vanhille’s manner and accomplishments won him friends
all round. Miss Johanna Colwell, an old maid, a sentimental worker of
straw hats, who lived opposite the brewery, pitied him. Further on, at
Mr. Pearson’s, lodged Vanhille’s great friend, Dr. Derouge, an army
surgeon, who cured Vanhille of small-pox. Then there was Dr. Mabyn of
Camelford, Dr. Frankland, R.N., John Rowe the tailor, Dale the
ironmonger, who, although tradesmen, were of that well-to-do, highly
respectable calibre which in old-time country towns like Launceston
placed them on a footing of friendliness with the ‘quality’. Vanhille
seems to have settled himself down to become quite Anglicized, and to
forget that he was a prisoner on parole, and that any such individual
existed as Mr. Spettigue, the Agent. He went over to Camelford to dine
with Dr. Mabyn; he rode to Tavistock on the Tyeth’s pony to visit the
Pearces, ironmongers of repute, and particularly to see the Misses Annie
and Elizabeth Penwarden, gay young milliners who spoke French. He was
also much in the society of Fanny Tyeth, made expeditions with her to
see ‘Aunt Tyeth’ at Tavistock, and was regarded as her _fiancé_.
Dr. Derouge began to weary of captivity, and tried without success to
get exchanged. The reason given for his non-success was that he had got
a girl with child. Launceston was scandalized; only a Frenchman could do
such a thing. The authorities had to find some one to pay for the
child’s subsistence as the mother could not afford to, and so Proctor,
Guardian of the Poor, and Spettigue, the Agent, fastened it on Dr.
Derouge, and he was ordered to pay £25. But he could not; so Vanhille,
who had come into some money upon the death of his mother, paid it. What
followed is not quite clear. In a letter dated December 5, 1811,
Spettigue, in a letter to the Admiralty, says that Derouge and Vanhille
tried to escape, but were prevented by information given by one
Burlangier, ‘garde-magasin des services réunis de l’armée de Portugal.’
He reported their absences at Camelford, and finally they were ordered
to Dartmoor on December 12, 1811. The Transport Office instructed
Spettigue to keep a watch on Tyeth and others. Launceston was angry at
this; it missed Derouge and Vanhille, and went so far as to get the
Member of Parliament, Giddy, to address the Transport Office on the
matter, and request their reinstatement on parole, but the reply was
unsatisfactory.
At Dartmoor, Vanhille and Derouge were sent to the subalterns’ quarters.
Very soon the attractive personality of Vanhille led him to an
influential position among the prisoners, and he was elected their
representative in all matters of difference between them and the
authorities, although Cotgrave, the Governor, refused to acknowledge him
as such, saying that he preferred a prisoner of longer standing, and one
whom he knew better.
Vanhille now determined to get out of Dartmoor. To reach France direct
was difficult, but it was feasible by America, as he had a sister well
married in New Orleans who could help him.
At the daily market held at the prison gate Vanhille became acquainted
with Mary Ellis. Piece by piece she brought him from Tavistock a
disguise—an old broad-brimmed hat, big boots, and brown stockings, and
by August 21, 1812, he was ready. On that day he received from his
comrades a sort of testimonial or letter of recommendation for use after
his escape at any place where there might be Frenchmen:
‘Le comité représentant les officiers militaires et marchands détenus
dans la prison Royale de Dartmoor certifient que Louis Vanhille est un
digne et loyal Français, et un compagnon d’infortune digne de tous les
égards de ses compatriotes . . . pour lui servir et valoir ce que de
raison en cas de mutation de prison.’
The next day he put on his disguise, mixed with the market folk, crossed
the court of his quarter, and the market place, passed two sentries who
took him for a potato merchant, got to the square in the middle of which
were the Agent’s house and offices, passed another gate, the sentry at
which took no notice of him, turned sharp to the right by the stables
and the water reservoir, and got on to the main road. He walked rapidly
on towards Tavistock, and that night slept under the Tyeth roof at
Launceston—a bold policy and only to be adopted by one who knew his
ground thoroughly well, and who felt sure that he was safer, known in
Launceston, than he would be as a stranger in Plymouth or other ports.
Next day he went to Camelford, and called on Dr. Mabyn, who said:
‘Monsieur Vanhille, comme ami je suis heureux de vous voir, mais à
présent je ne puis vous donner asile sous mon toit,’ Thence he went to
Padstow, but no boatman would take him to Bristol or Cork, so he
returned to Launceston and remained there two days. Here he bought a
map, changed his disguise, and became Mr. Williams, a pedlar of odds and
ends. Thence he went on to Bideford, Appledore, and by boat to Newport,
thence to Abergavenny, a parole town, where he met Palierne, an old
Launceston comrade; thence back to Launceston, where he rested a couple
of days. Then, always on foot, he went to Exeter, Okehampton, and
Tawton, took wagon to London, where he only stayed a night, then on to
Chatham—a dangerous neighbourhood on account of the hulks, and back to
Abergavenny via Guildford, Petersfield, Alresford, Winchester,
Salisbury, Warminster, Bath, and Bristol, arriving at Abergavenny on
September 21, 1812.[12]
From Abergavenny Vanhille went by Usk to Bristol, but could find no
suitable ship to take him to America, so he took coach back to
Launceston, and spent two weeks there with the Tyeths, which would seem
to show that Spettigue was either purposely blind or very stupid.
Vanhille then crossed Cornwall rapidly to Falmouth—always, be it
remembered, as a pedlar. Falmouth was a dangerous place, being the chief
port for the Cartel service with Morlaix, and a strict look-out was kept
there for passengers intending to cross the Channel. Vanhille went to
the _Blue Anchor_ Inn, and here he met the famous escape agent, Thomas
Feast Moore, _alias_ Captain Harman, &c., who at once recognized what he
was, and proffered his services, stating that he had carried many French
officers over safely. This was true, but what he omitted to state was
that he was at present in the Government service, having been pardoned
for his misdeeds as an escape agent on condition that he made use of his
experience by giving the Government information about intending
escapers.[13]
Vanhille wanted no aid to escape, but he cleared out from Falmouth at
once, was that evening at Wadebridge, the next day at Saltash, then,
avoiding Launceston, went by Okehampton, Moreton-Hampstead, and Exeter
to Cullompton, and thence by coach to Bristol, where he arrived on
October 15, 1812.
After his escape from Dartmoor, this extraordinary man had been
fifty-five days travelling on foot, in carriage, and by boat, and had
covered 1,238 miles, by far the greater number of which he tramped, and
this with the hue and cry after him and offers of reward for his arrest
posted up everywhere.
He now dropped the pedlar pretence and became an ordinary Briton. At
Bristol he learned that the _Jane_, Captain Robert Andrews, would leave
for Jamaica next month. He corresponded with his Launceston friends, who
throughout had been true to him, and, in replying, the Tyeths had to be
most careful, assuming signatures and disguising handwriting, and Miss
Fanny at the Post Office would with her own hands obliterate the
post-mark. Old Tyeth sent him kind and pious messages. On November 10
the _Jane_ left Bristol, but was detained at Cork a month, waiting for a
convoy, and did not reach Montego Bay, Jamaica, until January 2, 1813.
From Jamaica there were frequent opportunities of getting to America,
and Vanhille had every reason to congratulate himself at last on being a
free man.
Unfortunately the Customs people in Jamaica were particularly on the
alert for spies and runaways, especially as we were at war with the
United States. Vanhille was suspected of being what he was, and the
examination of his papers not being satisfactory, he was arrested and
sent home, and on May 20, 1813, found himself a prisoner at Forton. He
was sent up to London and examined by Jones, of Knight and Jones,
solicitors to the Admiralty, with a view of extracting from him
information concerning his accomplices in Launceston, a town notorious
for its French proclivities.
Jones writes under date of June 14, 1813, to Bicknell, solicitor to the
Transport Office, that he has examined Vanhille, who peremptorily
refuses to make any disclosures which may implicate the persons
concerned in harbouring him after he had escaped from Dartmoor, and who
ultimately got him out of the kingdom. He hopes, however, to reach them
by other means.
Harsh treatment was now tried upon him, he was half starved, and as he
was now penniless could not remedy matters by purchase. In three weeks
he was sent on board the _Crown Prince_ hulk at Chatham, and later to
the _Glory_. Correspondence between him and Dr. Derouge at Launceston
was discovered, and Derouge was sent to a Plymouth hulk. Dale, the
Launceston ironmonger, who had been one of the little friendly circle in
that town, had fallen into evil ways, and was now starving in Plymouth.
Jones, the Admiralty lawyer, received a communication from him saying
that for a consideration he would denounce all Vanhille’s friends. He
was brought up to London, and he told all their names, with the result
that they were summoned. But nothing could be got out of them. Mrs.
Wilkins at the inn, who for some reason disliked Vanhille, would have
given information, but she had none to give.
Dale was sent back to Plymouth, saying that if he could see Dr. Derouge,
who would not suspect him, he would get the wanted information. So the
two men met in a special cabin, and rum was brought. Derouge,
unsuspecting, tells all the story of the escape from Dartmoor, and
brings in the name of Mary Ellis, who had provided Vanhille with his
disguise. Then he begins to suspect Dale’s object, and will not utter
another word.
Dale is sent to Launceston to get more information, but fails; resolves
to find out Mary Ellis at Tavistock, but five weeks elapse, and no more
is heard of him, except that he arrived there half dead with wet and
fatigue.
The Peace of 1814 brought release to Vanhille, and on April 19 he
reached Calais.
M. Pariset concludes his story with the following remark: ‘Vanhille
avait senti battre le cœur anglais qui est, comme chacun sait,
bienveillant et fidèle, après qu’il s’est donné.’
I should here say that M. Pariset’s story does not go further than the
capture of Vanhille in Jamaica. The sequel I have taken from the
correspondence at the Record Office. I have been told that the name of
Vanhille is by no means forgotten in Launceston.