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.