Jedburgh
Mr. Maberley Phillips, F.S.A., from whose pamphlet on prisoners of war in the North I shall quote later (pp. [388]–9) a description of an escape of paroled prisoners from Jedburgh, says:
‘Jedburgh had its share of French prisoners. They were for the most part kindly treated, and many of them were permitted a great amount of liberty. One of these had a taste for archaeology and visited all the ruins within the precincts of his radius, namely, a mile from the Cross. There is a tradition that on one of his excursions, he was directed to a ruin about a quarter of a mile beyond his appointed mark, which happened to be a milestone. He asked the Provost for permission to go beyond; that worthy, however, refused, but he quietly added: “If Mr. Combat did walk a short distance beyond the mile and nobody said anything, nothing would come of it.” But the Frenchman had given his word of honour, and he could not break it. A happy thought struck him. He borrowed a barrow one afternoon, and with it and the necessary implements proceeded out to the obnoxious milestone. Having “unshipped” the milestone, he raised it on to the barrow, and triumphantly wheeled it to the required distance, where he fixed it.... For a generation the stone stood where the Frenchman placed it, no one being any the worse for the extra extent of the Scotch mile.’
Many of the prisoners were naval officers and were deeply versed in science, including navigation and astronomy. A favourite resort of these was Inchbonny, the abode of James Veitch, the self-taught astronomer. Inchbonny is situated up the Jed about half a mile from Jedburgh. Among the prisoners who made a point of visiting Veitch’s workshop we may mention Scot, an old naval lieutenant, who with a long grey coat was to be seen at every gleam of sunshine at the Meridian line with compasses in hand, resolving to determine the problem of finding the longitude, and M. Charles Jehenne, who belonged to the navy, and who was captured at the battle of Trafalgar. He on that memorable day from the masthead of his vessel observed the British fleet under Nelson bearing down upon the French and Spanish vessels. ‘They saw us’, he was wont to say, ‘before we saw them.’ He was a constant visitor to the workshop, and constructed a telescope there for his own use. He was most agreeable in his manner, and careful not to give any trouble when doing any work for himself with Veitch’s tools. He also was an astronomer, and would often stay out at Inchbonny, in order to view the stars through Veitch’s telescopes, until long after the tolling of the bell which warned the prisoners that the daily period of liberty had again expired. In order that he might escape being noticed by the observant eyes of any who might be desirous of obtaining the reward given for a conviction, he usually got the loan of Veitch’s plaid, and, muffled in this, reached his quarters undetected.
Jedburgh Abbey, 1812
From a painting by Ensign Bazin, a French prisoner of war
Billeted along with Jehenne, and staying in the same room, was Ensign Bazin, of St. Malo, a man of quiet demeanour, captured on the Torche corvette in 1805. He was very talented with his pencil, and fond of drawing sketches of Jedburgh characters, many of which are preserved at Inchbonny. He made a painting of Jedburgh Abbey, which he dedicated to Mr. Veitch, dated 1812. In this picture the French prisoners are seen marching on the ramparts, and, in the original, their faces and forms, as also those of many local characters, are so admirably sketched as to be easily recognizable. A duplicate of this picture he sent home to his mother. Mrs. Grant of Laggan perhaps had Bazin in view when in her Memoir of a Highland Lady, she wrote:
‘A number of French prisoners, officers, were on parole at Jedburgh. Lord Buchanan, whom we met there, took us to see a painting in progress by one of them; some battlefield, all the figures portraits from memory. The picture was already sold and part paid for, and another ordered, which we were very glad of, the handsome young painter having interested us much.’
In October 1813, Bazin received a pass to be sent to Alresford, and he was noted, ‘to be exchanged at the first opportunity. Has been long imprisoned, and is a great favourite.’ He was of wealthy parents, and got back to France some time before his fellow prisoners were released.
Mrs. Grant thus spoke of the Jedburgh prisoners:
‘The ingenuity of the French prisoners of all ranks was amazing, only to be equalled by their industry; those of them unskilled in higher arts earned for themselves most comfortable additions to their allowance by turning bits of wood, bones, straw, almost anything in fact, into neat toys of many sorts, eagerly bought up by all who met with them.’
At Mr. Veitch’s house, Inchbonny, may be seen by those fortunate enough to have a personal introduction, much of the French prisoner handiwork—sketches, telescopes, and an electric machine with which the poor fellows had much fun, connecting it with wires to a plate on the window-sill below, whereto they would invite passers-by—generally girls—for a chat and a joke, the result being a shock which sent them flying.
It is stated that when the word came that the Frenchmen were to be allowed to return to their native land, they caused their manufactures and other articles to be ‘rouped’. One of the prisoners whose knowledge of the English language, even after his prolonged stay in this quarter, was very limited, was delegated to obtain the sanction of the Provost of the Burgh to hold such roup. He who at this time graced the office of provostship had a draper’s shop in Canongate, and hither the Frenchman went on his errand. His lack of knowledge of the popular tongue, however, proved to be an inconvenience, for, on arriving at the shop, he could only request ‘A rope! A rope!’ The draper had his customary supply of old ropes, and, willing to oblige, brought them out, to the perplexity of the visitor, and commenced to ‘wale out the best of them’. Seeing that his would-be benefactor was obviously mistaken, the French envoy reiterated his former request, and supplemented this by adding in a style which would have done credit to any auctioneer, ‘One, Two, Tree!’ Light dawned upon the Provost’s comprehension, and the necessary permission was not long in being granted.
Many of the prisoners are supposed to have rejoined Bonaparte on his return from Elba, and to have fallen at Waterloo.
The officers were billeted among private citizens, says Mr. Forbes, while several occupied quarters immediately under the Clock Tower. Being young and lusty, they were dowered with an exceedingly good appetite, and as they got little to eat so far as their allowance went, some of them used to have a pulley and hoist their loaves of bread to near the ceiling to prevent themselves from devouring them all, and to ensure something being left over for next repast.
The prisoners were not commonly spoken of by name, but were known by the persons with whom they resided, e.g., ‘Nannie Tamson’s Frenchman’, ‘Widow Ross’s Frenchman’. The boys were a great plague to the Frenchmen, for when a great victory was announced their dominie gave them a holiday, and the youngsters celebrated it too frequently by jeering the prisoners, and by shouting and cheering. The boys at a school then beside the road at No. 1 Milestone, were prominent in these triumphant displays, and sometimes pelted the prisoners with stones.
The manners of the Jedburgh prisoners are thus alluded to in the False Alarm, a local pamphlet:
‘They were very polite, and not infrequently put us rough-spun Scotchmen to the blush with their polished manners. They came in course of time to be liked, but it seems some of the older members of the community could never be brought to fraternize with them. One old man actually pointed his gun at them, and threatened to fire because they had exceeded their walking limit.’
An aged Jedburgh lady’s reminiscences are interesting. She says:
‘Among the officers was M. Espinasse, who settled in Edinburgh after the Peace and engaged in teaching; Baron Goldshord or Gottshaw, who married a Jedburgh lady, a Miss Waugh; another, whose name I do not remember, married a Miss Jenny Wintrope, who went with him to the South of France. There was a Captain Rivoli, also a Captain Racquet, and a number of others who were well received by the townspeople, and frequently invited to parties in their homes, to card-clubs, etc. They were for the most part pleasant, agreeable gentlemen, and made many friends. Almost all of them employed themselves in work of some kind, besides playing at different kinds of games, shooting small birds, and fishing for trout. They much enjoyed the liberty granted them of walking one mile out of the town in any direction, as within that distance there were many beautiful walks when they could go out one road, turn, and come back by another. During their stay, when news had been received of one great British victory, the magistrates permitted rejoicing, and a great bonfire was kindled at the Cross, and an effigy of Napoleon was set on a donkey and paraded round the town by torchlight, and round the bonfire, and then cast into the flames. I have often heard an old gentleman, who had given the boots and part of the clothing, say he never regretted doing anything so much in his life, as helping on that great show, when he saw the pain it gave to these poor gentlemen-prisoners, who felt so much at seeing the affront put upon their great commander.
‘The French prisoners have always been ingenious in the use they made of their meat bones ... they took them and pounded them into a powder which they mixed with the soft food they were eating. It is even said that they flourished on this dissolved phosphate of lime and gelatine.
‘There was an old game called “cradles” played in those days. Two or three persons clasp each other’s hands, and when their arms are held straight out at full length, a person is placed on these stretched hands, who is sent up in the air and down again, landing where he started from. A farmer thought he would try the experiment on the Frenchmen. Some buxom lassies were at work as some of them passed, and he gave the girls the hint to treat the foreigners to the “cradles”. Accordingly two of them were jerked well up in the air to fall again on the sturdy hands of the wenches. The experiment was repeated again and again until the Frenchmen were glad to call a halt.’
Parole-breaking was rather common, and began some months after the officers arrived in the town. A party of five set out for Blyth in September 1811, but were brought to Berwick under a military escort, and lodged in jail. Next day they were marched to Penicuik under charge of a party of the Forfarshire Militia. Three of them were good-looking young men; one in particular had a very interesting countenance, and, wishing one day to extend his walk, in order to get some watercress for salad, beyond the limit of the one-mile stone, uprooted it, and carried it in his arms as far as he wished to go.
Three other officers were captured the same year, and sent to Edinburgh Castle, and in 1813 occurred the escape and capture to be described later (p. [388]).
The highest number of prisoners at Jedburgh was 130, and there were three deaths during their stay.