meet an englishman—at last put on parole—dine with lieutenant horton—proceed to cambray—relics of archbishop fénélon—meet captain otter at verdun—prisoners’ amusements—author and captain otter establish a school for midshipmen—author moves into country quarters—severe censorship of prisoner’s letters—ordered to blois—purchase a cart and horses.
we reached arras in the afternoon. on entering the town we were followed by a crowd of idlers, who i rather think took us for a caravan of wild beasts. among this choice assemblage i perceived a sailor who looked like an englishman. “what are you doing here?” i called out at a venture. “i am lieutenant horton’s servant,” answered he. “pray,” said i, “who is he?” “he is the lieutenant of the sailors at this dep?t.”
“then,” said i, “take this to him,” giving him a piece of paper with my name on it. “aye, aye, sir,” said he, and ran off to execute his errand. we were, as before, ushered into the common gaol with due ceremony, where we were received by another brigadier, who had the honour of being gouverneur. the gaol was considerably larger than those we had lodged in on the road, and the people were civil. we ordered dinner, which i had to pay [pg 312]for without doing it justice, in consequence of the appearance of lieutenant horton with a french commissary, to inform myself and officers we were on parole, and the former, like a generous sailor, begged us all to dine with him at his house. we made ourselves as smart as circumstances would allow, and accompanied him to a snug little house where he lived. he introduced us to his wife, who was a very kind person and paid us every attention, and i shall ever retain a feeling of gratitude for their hospitality. in the evening we were joined by the english surgeon of the dep?t, who engaged us to dine with him the following day. a servant was sent to the american hotel to bespeak rooms for us, and the day after i engaged a carriage to take us to verdun, for which i was to pay eight napoleons, and find the coachman. in the evening, or rather night, we took possession of our new quarters, which from what i had lately been accustomed to, appeared a paradise, although the doctor and purser declared they were half bled to death by bugs and fleas. we breakfasted like gentlemen, and afterwards strolled about the town, to the amusement of the inhabitants, who, as we passed them, made great eyes at us. i shall not trouble my readers with a description of arras, as they may satisfy their curiosity, if they wish it, by consulting a gazeteer. at five o’clock the lieutenant called on me, and we all repaired to the surgeon’s house. he gave us a good dinner, and was very attentive. at ten o’clock they accompanied us to the inn, where they took their final [pg 313]leave, as we were to start in our new vehicle at five in the morning.
at the appointed time behold us seated in our coach chattering like magpies, and going at the rapid speed of about five miles an hour. at cambray we dined and slept. we visited the cathedral, which, thanks to those honest, religious men, the republicans, was in total ruins. all the virgins and saints were decapitated and the quiet repose of the dead disturbed by their pure, delicate hands. “erin’s curse be upon them!” exclaimed my man of medicine. “the devil has them by this time,” said the purser. “what a set of impious scoundrels,” ejaculated the midshipman. “i am afraid,” added i, “france has in a great measure brought all her misfortunes on herself. if the king and the nobles had stood firm to their guns and given a more liberal constitution, millions of lives might have been saved, and we should not have had the supreme happiness of being attended by the gendarmes or of taking up our abode in their filthy, loathsome gaols, besides a thousand other circumstances, of which, as you have been partakers, i need not mention, as they are too agreeable to bear in memory.” we reached a small place called cateau cambresis, where we dined at a fourth-rate inn, formerly the country palace of the good archbishop fénélon. at dinner, which, like the auberge, was also of the fourth class, i had a silver fork with the armorial bearings of an archbishop. i remarked the fact to my ma?tre d’h?tel, [pg 314]the doctor. “i have a spoon with the same,” replied he. “this, you are aware, was fénélon’s favourite country palace, and as a quantity of family plate was buried during the revolution, these very likely belonged to him.” when the woman who attended us at dinner came in again, the doctor interrogated her respecting them. she informed him they had been found among some old rubbish in the yard. i asked her if she would sell them; she answered in the affirmative, and demanded thirty francs. i gave her twenty-four, and took possession of my prizes.
in a remote part of the building i found some englishmen at work manufacturing what the french were then little acquainted with, dimity. they told me they had permission to sleep out of the prison, and that the french allowed them a franc a day and some wine. i asked them if they were working on their own account; they answered, no, but on that of the french government. “bonaparte has his wits about him,” said i to myself, “and appears wide awake.”
we reached verdun on the sixth day. i waited on captain otter of the navy and the senior officer, who introduced me to the commandant, the baron de beauchêne, who, by his rubicund face, appeared to be fond of good living. my name was registered at the police office, where i was desired to sport my graceful figure the first day of every month. several officers did me the honour of a visit, but as my news was like salted cod—rather stale—they [pg 315]were not much edified. the day following i dined with captain and mrs. otter, who were good, kind of homespun people. i met at their table the worthy chaplain, gordon. some of his friends said he was too mundane, and bowed to the pleasures of the world most unclerically. i found him an agreeable, gentlemanly person in society, and a plain-sailing parson in the pulpit. there were two officers here who were most amusing, captains miller and lyall, and when dining with them, which i frequently did, i do not know which i enjoyed most, their dinner or their dry jokes. i also became acquainted with captain blennerhassett, and sometimes took a cold dinner at a small house he rented on the banks of the meuse. we dubbed it frogmore hall, in consequence of a vast quantity of those creatures infesting it. lord blaney, who once wrote a book, principally on the best mode of cooking, figured away here. he was a good-natured but not a very wise man. he could not bear the midshipmen, because, he said, they cheated him out of his best cigars and made him give them a dinner when he did not wish for their company. this was, strange to say, sometimes the case.
there were about twelve hundred prisoners at this dep?t, principally officers of the army and navy, and a few masters of merchant ships, as well as some people detained in a most unjust manner by a decree of bonaparte when the war broke out. about two miles from the town was a racecourse, made by the officers and [pg 316]kept up by subscription, where, i was informed, there was as much jockeyship practised as at newmarket. it made a variety, and the ladies say variety is charming. after residing in this town, where every description of vice was practised, about a month, i remarked that the mids, of whom there were about one hundred and twenty, were idle, dissipated, and running into debt. the greater part of them were fine lads. i proposed to captain otter the establishment of a school for them, and said that if the requisite masters could be procured i would superintend it. he entered into my views most willingly and wrote to the admiralty respecting them, informing their lordships the expenses for a hundred midshipmen would not be more than eighty pounds a year. not receiving an answer, he established it at his own risk; whether he was ever remunerated is a problem i am not enabled to solve. six lieutenants volunteered to assist me, and attended the school hours in turn.7 everything went on exceedingly well for twelve months, when unfortunately the baron de beauchêne died, and was succeeded by a man who ordered the school to be broken up. this was as unexpected as unmerited. captain otter and myself remonstrated, but in vain. the youngsters were sent to the right-about; but i am happy to say that the greater part of them had the good sense to form themselves into classes at their own lodgings, where the same masters attended them. finding my [pg 317]services of no further use, i sighed for country air and a change of scene. the town manners shocked my delicacy, and i much feared i should lose my innocence. the copy i frequently wrote when at school stared me in the face—that “evil communications corrupt good manners.” i therefore determined before i became contaminated to change my quarters. i waited on the commandant and obtained leave to live at a small village two miles from the town. my new residence was a small chateau, the proprietress of which was the widow of a colonel of cuirassiers in the old time. i took possession of a good-sized bedroom and drawing-room, for which i paid, with my board, seventy napoleons a year. the establishment consisted of a housekeeper, more like a man than a woman, one maid servant, and two men. the widow was an agreeable person, nearly in her seventieth year, but very healthy and active. at the back of the chateau was a delightful garden, with a brook running through it, in which were some trout, carp and tench. adjoining it were vineyards belonging to the house. i could now, in the literal sense of the word, in which one of our poets intended it, “from the loop-holes of my retreat peep at such a world” without partaking of its folly.
my time was occupied with a french master, and in drawing, and reading french authors, and if my mind had not been tortured by my being a captive, and not knowing how long i was likely to remain so, i should have been comparatively happy. [pg 318]our letters, when we did receive them, were always broken open and read to the commandant by one of the gendarmes who could blunder out a little english. if they contained anything against the french government, or treated on politics, they never reached us. by these honourable means all our domestic concerns became known to the mighty chief, the ignorant, left-handed, blundering translator, and a host of others. in short, our letters, after having run the gauntlet through a number of dirty hands, with still more dirty minds, were scarcely worth receiving.
one morning, as i was sitting at breakfast in not a very cheerful mood, a woman, of not very prepossessing appearance, entered. she came, she said, to make a complaint against three wicked mids. they had taken the figure of bonaparte from the mantelpiece and knocked his head off; for so doing she threatened to complain to the commandant if they did not pay her a five-franc piece. i told her i would send for the decapitating youngsters, and, if i found her complaint to be well-grounded, they should remunerate her by giving her another emperor, or paying her for the old one. she departed, but not in peace, as i could hear her grumbling as she went along the vestibule. at noon next day these emperor-destroying lads came to my lodgings to answer the complaint.
“we lodge in this woman’s house,” said one of them, “and one morning we thought we would amuse ourselves by bringing bonaparte fairly to a [pg 319]court martial. our charges against him were tyranny and oppression, imprisonment against our consent, and not granting an exchange of prisoners. we found him guilty on all the charges, and as he could make no defence, we sentenced him first to be shot, but we thought that too honourable for him; then to be hanged, and lastly, to have his mischief-making head chopped off by a case-knife, which sentence was carried into execution; but as we do not wish the woman to quarrel with us, we have no objection to pay her two francs, which we think is too much by thirty-nine sous.”
“you value emperors, gentlemen,” said i, “at a very cheap rate.” “yes,” replied they, “such an emperor as bonaparte, who we think is a most unrelenting tyrant.” “hush!” cried i, “walls sometimes have ears. go and make your peace with your landlady, offer her the two francs, and if she will not accept it send her to me, for, to tell you the truth, were she to go with her complaint to the commandant, you most likely would be shut up in the old convent and kept there for a month.” i gave them a glass of wine, in which they drank the downfall of bonaparte and departed. i understood afterwards this knotty point was settled amicably; the woman, not wishing to lose her lodgers, accepted the money. as the lying “moniteur” was the only paper we could read, we of course were always deceived, and supposed from its contents that france was carrying everything before her. more than eighteen months had now passed away, like a [pg 320]disturbed dream, since i became a prisoner, when the order came, like a flash of lightning, from the police to desire all the english prisoners to be ready to quit verdun in forty-eight hours and proceed to blois. to those who had the misfortune to be married to french women and had children it was a thunder-stroke. the weather had set in with great severity, it being the month of december. another brother officer and his nephew joined me in purchasing a covered cart and two cart horses; and a captain of a merchant vessel, said to be a descendant of the immortal bruce, volunteered to be our coachman, provided we lodged and fed him on the road, to which we, without hesitation, agreed.
