My adventures during the late war

by Donat Henchy O'Brien

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.