CHAPTER VII
Our entrance into the gaol of Boulogne—Tantalising sight of Old England’s flag and white cliffs—A gaoler’s supper and a conscientious bill—Another examination—The route to Verdun—Arras—The gaoler kind, and the commandant full of indulgence—Bapaume—The baker, and inquiries for our lost money—Cambray—Cateau-Cambresis and its horrible dungeon—Landrecies—Our awkwardness in chains, handcuffs, and fetters—My dislike to them—Avesnes—Information that we were to be shot—The dungeon of Avesnes—A dungeon companion who had killed and cut up both his parents—A night of horrors and lunacy—Hirson, a town without a gaol, but with a dungeon—A supper and its consequences—The discovery of our implements of escape—Maubert Fontaine—A new dungeon and a fellow-prisoner—Reciprocal services—A novel mode of hiding pistol-barrels—Chaining prisoners to a cart—Mezières—Arrival at Verdun—Separated from my companions—Reflections on being shot—A close examination—Questioned in relation to Buonaparte—Allowed to join my old associates—Another cross-examination—A recommittal to prison—Our fate determined—The dungeon of Bitche—The Rev. Lancelot C. Lee, a détenu—His generosity.
The next morning, the 19th Sept. 1807, at eight o’clock, our gendarme escort entered the inn, and, soon placing us in a cart, conducted us to Boulogne. We arrived at about two in the afternoon, and were unceremoniously handed over to a regular gaoler, a Mons. Verjuis, who gave us in custody to one of his most expert turnkeys. The fellow showed us into our apartment. Shortly after, two small sheaves of straw were sent us as substitutes for beds, and a bucket of water accompanied them, as our sole refreshment. Tuthill, astonished at this supply, asked me seriously what it could mean? I replied, that it was evidently to be our food, and that they thought straw for Englishmen a good substitute for bread!! However, complaint would only have subjected us to ridicule or insult, and without a murmur we drank our water and reposed upon our straw. We had passed many days when the straw would have been a luxury to us, and many nights and days when we would have given a stream of gold for the draught of water.
This day’s excursion had afforded us a view of that formidable flotilla which had so frequently threatened to hurl destruction upon our little island; but with what different emotions did we catch the view of the white cliffs of Dover, and behold an English frigate and lugger blockading the French port. The sight of our country, and of the triumphant flag of our glorious profession—the navy of England,—filled us with desires that were not to be realised, and with hopes in which it was tantalising and vain to indulge. I was a little relieved by a feeling of contempt at the dismantled and decaying flotilla, and by reflecting that had France had the folly to build a thousand times as many flat-bottomed boats as I then beheld, she never could have made any impression on our happy country.
However, neither sentiment nor reflection can be a substitute for food, and the keenness of our appetites soon taught us the absolute necessity of becoming acquainted with our good host. We began to supplicate for relief through the iron bars; and our experience of the French character had taught us the good policy of accompanying each supplication with an assurance that we would pay liberally for whatever we might be supplied with. At length, this man of iron bars and gratings thought proper to pay us a visit. He promised to afford us relief, and we soon got supplied tolerably well with food, and had two mattresses brought us—we still keeping our promise to pay whatever was required. It appeared that this fellow was a great acquisition to Buonaparte’s government: he had been originally a convict sentenced to perpetual imprisonment in chains; he therefore resided in a gaol, and wore small silver chains round his wrists and ankles, and thus literally conformed to his sentence, whilst he was placed in a situation under government.
On Monday the 21st we were conducted to the captain of gendarmes to undergo another examination; and he behaved very like a gentleman. We were interrogated separately. He said that our attempt to gain our liberty was very laudable, and that he felt for our misfortunes. Our march back was to commence the next morning. He exhorted us to have fortitude and patience, and dwelt very much on the cruelty of not having an exchange of prisoners between the two countries. We returned him many thanks for his goodness, and were escorted back to our prison, where we made every necessary arrangement within our power for the next day. This was a task neither difficult nor long, for our luggage or apparel was not calculated to cause us much embarrassment.
On Tuesday, 22nd Sept., we were called betimes by the guard, and in a few minutes were once more en route. The day was excessively wet and the roads heavy, which prevented the guards from chaining us, more especially as we had a very long march to Montreuil, which was twelve or thirteen leagues distant. About five in the afternoon we were placed in the common gaol of Montreuil, which we found a tolerably comfortable prison; but the gaoler and his wife imposed upon us in a shameful manner.
Our route was now through Hesdin and St. Pol, to Arras. The gaoler here behaved with kindness and civility to us, and (with the exception of one) was the most humane man in that situation I ever knew. And in dire necessity of his humanity were we all at this moment; but more especially myself, for so completely knocked up was I from excessive fatigue and exhaustion, by the length of this day’s journey in chains, that I found my head quite dizzy, and had actually swooned and fallen against the prison walls before the gaoler could conduct me to my cell.
The commandant was also extremely civil, and allowed us, at our own request, a chaise, with an escort of two gendarmes (whose names were Potdevin and Pasdevie), to Cambray. Having passed through Bapaume, we called at our old friend the baker’s, where Mr. Essel supposed he had lost his money. He and his children were severally examined; but we could not discover the smallest trace that might lead us to suppose he had taken it: and I must confess I believed the baker to be innocent. At Cambray we dismissed, or, rather, the Arras escort quitted us; and we were conducted to Cateau-Cambresis, where we were put into a most horrible dungeon under ground, nor could anything in our power have any effect on the flint-hearted keeper of it. We fortunately remained but twenty-four hours at this place; thence we were conducted to Landrecies, where we were permitted to stop and get a breakfast. Our landlady here shed tears at seeing us handcuffed in so cruel a manner; yet, in spite of all remonstrances and entreaties, and notwithstanding the obvious inutility of this caution or harshness, our guards would not unshackle a single wrist during the whole time, and the people of the house were literally obliged to feed us.
At about five o’clock on the 29th, we arrived at Avesnes, and were very rudely thrust into the gaol, and placed amongst the worst and lowest class of criminals that it contained. This, we were informed, was by the special order of General Wirion, who, it appeared, had sent an express to all stages on our route, desiring that we should be treated as severely and as indignantly as possible. Our guard seemed to be by no means lax in discipline, for they fulfilled their instructions both to their spirit and letter. A report, moreover, was current at this place, that we were English spies, about to be shot for having been hired to inspect the naval armaments along the French coast. This idea certainly did not procure us the sympathies of the populace, nor did it seem to soften the tempers of our conductors; and all assurances to the contrary on our part were rendered abortive by the fact of our being so heavily manacled, shackled, and loaded with chains. The conclusions from these symbols of guilt were that if we were not spies we were something even worse. What were our disgust and horror when we found that we were thrust into a horrible dungeon with a wretch that was condemned to perpetual imprisonment for having murdered and mutilated both his father and mother! I shuddered every time I beheld this monster, and could not bear his gaze upon me. I was told that the wretch had cut both of his parents into quarters, and had buried them in a pit. Never shall I forget the joy we all felt when at daybreak we were taken from this horrible society. I expressed my astonishment that crimes so heinous should not receive the punishment of death; and then it was, and not till then, that the solution was made clear to me—the unhappy man, upon his trial, had been declared a lunatic. I reflected that, as a lunatic, he ought not to be subject to so cruel a confinement. From all I had seen of French gaols, I entertained a very low idea of the prison discipline, economy, and management of France; but the horrors of that night can never be effaced from my mind.