Peebles
Although Peebles was not established as a parole town until 1803, a great many French prisoners, not on parole, were here in 1798–9, most of them belonging to the thirty-six-gun frigates Coquille and Résolue, belonging to the Brest squadron of the expedition to Ireland, which was beaten by Sir John Warren. They were probably confined in the town jail.
The first parole prisoners were Dutch, Belgians, and Danes, ‘all of whom took to learning cotton hand-loom weaving, and spent their leisure time in fishing’, says Mr. W. Chambers. In 1810 about one hundred French, Poles, and Italians came: ‘Gentlemanly in manner, they made for themselves friends in the town and neighbourhood, those among them who were surgeons occasionally assisting at a medical consultation. They set up a theatre in what is now the public reading-room, and acted Molière and Corneille. In 1811 all the “midshipmen” (gardes-marines) among them were suddenly called to the Cross, and marched away to Valleyfield, possibly an act of reprisal for Bonaparte’s action against English midshipmen.’[[16]]
Shortly after their removal, all the other prisoners were sent away from Peebles, chiefly to Sanquhar. This removal is said to have been brought about by the terror of a lady of rank in the neighbourhood at so many enemies being near Neidpath Castle, where were deposited the arms of the Peeblesshire Militia.
Mr. Sanderson, of the Chambers Institute at Peebles, my indefatigable conductor about and around the pleasant old Border town, told me that there is still in Peebles a family named Bonong, said to be descended from a French prisoner; that a Miss Wallink who went to Canada some years ago as Mrs. Cranston, was descended from a Polish prisoner; that there was recently a Mr. Lenoir at the Tontine Hotel (traditionally the ‘hotle’ which was Meg Dodd’s bugbear in St. Ronan’s Well), and that a drawing master named Chastelaine came of French prisoner parentage.
In the Museum of the Chambers Institute are four excellent specimens of French prisoner-made ship models, and on the plaster walls of a house are a couple of poorly executed oil frescoes said to have been painted by prisoners.
I have the kind permission of Messrs. Chambers to quote the following very complete descriptions of French prisoner life at Peebles from the Memoirs of William and Robert Chambers by Mr. William Chambers.
‘1803. Not more than 20 or 30 of these foreign exiles arrived at this early period. They were mostly Dutch and Walloons, with afterwards a few Danes. These men did not repine. They nearly all betook themselves to learn some handicraft to eke out their scanty allowance. At leisure hours they might be seen fishing in long leather boots as if glad to procure a few trout and eels. Two or three years later came a détenu of a different class. He was seemingly the captain of a ship from the French West Indies, who brought with him his wife and a negro servant-boy named Jack. Black Jack, as we called him, was sent to the school, where he played with the other boys on the town green, and at length spoke and read like a native. He was a good-natured creature, and became a general favourite. Jack was the first pure negro whom the boys at that time had ever seen.
‘None of these classes of prisoner broke his parole, nor ever gave any trouble to the authorities. They had not, indeed, any appearance of being prisoners, for they were practically free to live and ramble about within reasonable bounds where they liked.
‘In 1810 there was a large accession to this original body of prisoners on parole. As many as one hundred and eleven were already on their way to the town, and might be expected shortly. There was speedily a vast sensation in the place. The local Militia had been disbanded. Lodgings of all sorts were vacant. The new arrivals would on all hands be heartily welcomed. On Tuesday, the expected French prisoners in an unceremonious way began to drop in. As one of several boys, I went out to meet them coming from Edinburgh. They came walking in twos and threes, a few of them lame. Their appearance was startling, for they were in military garb in which they had been captured in Spain. Some were in light blue hussar dress, braided, with marks of sabre wounds. Others were in dark blue uniform. Several wore large cocked hats, but the greater number had undress caps. All had a gentlemanly air, notwithstanding their generally dishevelled attire, their soiled boots, and their visible marks of fatigue.
‘Before night they had all arrived, and, through the activity of the Agent appointed by the Transport Board, they had been provided with lodgings suitable to their slender allowance. This large batch of prisoners on parole were, of course, all in the rank of naval or military officers. Some had been pretty high in the service and seen a good deal of fighting. Several were doctors, or, as they called themselves, officiers de santé. Among the whole there were, I think, about half a dozen midshipmen. A strange thing was their varied nationality. Though spoken of as French, there was in the party a mixture of Italians, Swiss, and Poles; but this we found out only after some intercourse. Whatever their origin, they were warm adherents of Napoleon, whose glory at this time was at its height. Lively in manner, their minds were full of the recent struggle in the Peninsula.
‘Through the consideration of an enterprising grocer, the prisoners were provided with a billiard table at which they spent much of their time. So far well. But how did these unfortunate exiles contrive to live? How did they manage to feed and clothe themselves, and pay for lodgings? The allowance from Government was on a moderate scale. I doubt if it was more than one shilling per head per diem. In various instances two persons lived in a single room, but even that cost half-a-crown per week. The truth is they must have been half starved, but for the fortunate circumstance of a number of them having brought money—foreign gold-pieces, concealed about their persons, which stores were supplemented by remittances from France; and in a friendly way, at least as regards the daily mess, or table d’hôte, the richer helped the poorer, which was a good trait in their character. The messing together was the great resource, and took place in a house hired for the purpose, in which the cookery was conducted under the auspices of M. Lavoche, one of the prisoners who was skilled in cuisine. My brother and I had some dealings with Lavoche. We cultivated rabbits in a hutch built by ourselves in the backyard, and sold them for the Frenchmen’s mess; the money we got for them, usually eighteenpence a pair, being employed in the purchase of books.
‘Billiards were indispensable, but something more was wanted. Without a theatre, life was felt to be unendurable. But how was a theatre to be secured? There was nothing of the kind in the place. The more eager of the visitors managed to get out of the difficulty. There was an old and disused ball-room. It was rather of confined dimensions, and low in the roof, with a gallery at one end, over the entrance, for the musicians.... Walter Scott’s mother, when a girl, (I was told,) had crossed Minchmoor, a dangerously high hill, in a chaise, from the adjacent country, to dance for a night in that little old ball-room. Now set aside as unfashionable, the room was at anybody’s service, and came quite handily for the Frenchmen. They fitted it up with a stage at the inner end, and cross benches to accommodate 120 persons, independently of perhaps 20 more in the musicians’ gallery. The thing was neatly got up with scenery painted by M. Walther and M. Ragulski, the latter a young Pole. No licence was required for the theatre, for it was altogether a private undertaking. Money was not taken at the door, and no tickets were sold. Admission was gained by complimentary billets distributed chiefly among persons with whom the actors had established an intimacy.
‘Among these favoured individuals was my father, who, carrying on a mercantile concern, occupied a prominent position. He felt a degree of compassion for these foreigners, constrained to live in exile, and, besides welcoming them to his house, gave them credit in articles of drapery of which they stood in need; and through which circumstance they soon assumed an improved appearance in costume. Introduced to the family circle, their society was agreeable, and in a sense instructive. Though with imperfect speech, a sort of half-English, half-French, they related interesting circumstances in their careers.
‘How performances in French should have had any general attraction may seem to require explanation. There had grown up in the town among young persons especially, a knowledge of familiar French phrases; so that what was said, accompanied by appropriate gestures, was pretty well guessed at. But, as greatly contributing to remove difficulties, a worthy man, of an obliging turn and genial humour, volunteered to act as interpreter. Moving in humble circumstances as hand-loom weaver, he had let lodgings to a French captain and his wife, and from being for years in domestic intercourse with them, he became well acquainted with their language. William Hunter, for such was his name, besides being of ready wit, partook of a lively musical genius. I have heard him sing Malbrook s’en va t’en guerre with amazing correctness and vivacity. His services at the theatre were therefore of value to the natives in attendance. Seated conspicuously at the centre of what we may call the pit, eyes were turned on him inquiringly when anything particularly funny was said requiring explanation, and for general use he whisperingly communicated the required interpretation. So, put up to the joke, the natives heartily joined in the laugh, though rather tardily.... As for the French plays, which were performed with perfect propriety, they were to us not only amusing but educational. The remembrance of these dramatic efforts of the French prisoners of war has been through life a continual treat. It is curious for me to look back on the performances of the pieces of Molière in circumstances so remarkable.
‘My mother, even while lending her dresses and caps to enable performers to represent female characters, never liked the extraordinary intimacy which had been formed between the French officers and my father. Against his giving them credit she constantly remonstrated in vain. It was a tempting but perilous trade. For a time, by the resources just mentioned, they paid wonderfully well. With such solid inducements, my father confidingly gave extensive credit to these strangers—men who, by their positions, were not amenable to the civil law, and whose obligations, accordingly, were altogether debts of honour. The consequence was that which might have been anticipated. An order suddenly arrived from the Government commanding the whole of the prisoners to quit Peebles, and march chiefly to Sanquhar in Dumfriesshire: the cause of the movement being the prospective arrival of a Militia Regiment.
‘The intelligence came one Sunday night. What a gloom prevailed at several firesides that evening!
‘On their departure the French prisoners made many fervid promises that, should they ever return to their own country, they would have pleasure in discharging their debt. They all got home in the Peace of 1814, but not one of them ever paid a farthing, and William Chambers was one of the many whose affairs were brought to a crisis therefrom.’
It will be seen later that this was not the uniform experience of British creditors with French debtors.