“On the 20th December our two happy and united families left Tours for Morlaix, which we reached on the 27th, passing through La Fleche, Rennes, Lamballe and St. Brieux. At Lamballe, which we reached late in the evening, I was informed that a detachment of English prisoners had arrived, and were in the prison, and that I might see them, if I went early in the morning, when they were to resume their march for the interior. At the dawn of day, I was at the prison door, and as the sailor was opening it, called out in the professional phrase, ‘Yo ho! shipmates.’ No sooner was the well known expression heard, than one of the unfortunate inmates exclaimed, ‘If I did not dream I was just drinking a pot of porter!’ This of course he considered prophetic of his obtaining some relief; nor was he disappointed, for the hundred pounds sent by the kind M. Peregaux enabled me to give to each a sum which might have been a source of comfort for some days; but it is probable, that it was soon swallowed up by extortion and excess. The money was of course given on government account.
“On leaving Lamballe, on the road to St. Brieux, I had got out of the carriage for the purpose of walking up a very steep hill, and on reaching the top I had lost sight of the carriage, owing to the winding of the road; I here saw another detachment of unfortunate blue jackets, under the escort of gens d’armes marching for Lamballe. I hailed them, and having ascertained to what ship they belonged, I gave to each man the sum of money I thought I could spare; the escort all this time preserved rather an unaccountable silence, but when the distribution was over, accosted me with, ‘A present Monsieur, il faut savoir qui vous êtes; ou est votre passport?’ This had soon occurred to me, and I recollected that it was not about me, but in the carriage, which now appeared on the summit of the hill. This however set all to rights, and the poor sailors gave three cheers to their countrymen, and pursued their melancholy journey.
“In the course of a few hours, as we approached St. Brieux, we had from the top of a very high hill, a view of the deep blue sea, of the English channel. The effect of this sight upon persons in our situation may be easier conceived than described; after being shut up for three years and a half in the interior of France, a far longer period than I had ever before been separated from my favourite element. Cheers from each denoted the general joy of the little party at again beholding what we all regarded as our country’s own domain. On our arrival at St. Brieux, we met another detachment of English prisoners, but they were officers on parole. The two parties, the one on their way home, the other beginning captivity, met together at the table d’hôte; and notwithstanding these adverse circumstances on the one side, the meeting was gratifying to both. I was again enabled through Messrs. Peregaux to supply each officer with the means of performing his long journey with comparative comfort.
“As we left the land the wind freshened, and a heavy sea got up. The French sailors who had been very earnest in offering their services to the ladies, and had even given their respective names, that they might be called upon when wanted, were the first to be prostrated by sea sickness, the whole eleven men without exception. The Captain alone was unaffected by the motion of his vessel; and on my suggesting to him the necessity of the topsail being reefed, as the wind increased, he shrugged his shoulders with the usual phrase of ‘impossible.’ He however admitted the necessity of something being done, and having requested me to take the helm, he managed to lower the topsails on the cap, and as the wind was well aft, the vessel was able to bear it, and we two shared the helm between us for that day. In the middle of the ensuing night we had got over under the Start point, and the wind having got more to the westward, we found shelter there until daylight; when a beautiful day broke upon us, and enabled us to reach Dartmouth by eight o’clock in the morning. Thus ended our captivity on the 29th of December, 1806, having commenced on the 3rd July, 1803.
“The retrospect gave me much thankfulness in every point of view. It was a singular circumstance, that on my journey from Bath to Portsmouth, in June, 1803, one of my companions on the coach was the late Sir Matthew Blakiston, who mentioned a report (an unfounded one) that the Hazard Sloop of war, commanded by Captain Neave, had been taken, and carried into a French Port. I immediately expressed my opinion, that I could hardly conceive a greater misfortune befalling a professional man; and that it would be one of the most difficult to support. In less than a month from that time, I was actually in the very dreaded situation; and lost by it the command of one of the finest frigates in the Navy, with all the bright prospects attendant upon such a position, at the first breaking out of a war, when the ocean is covered by the enemy’s vessels, and few Captains with such commands fail in making fortunes. But the wind is tempered to the shorn lamb—the blow to me was, indeed, a severe one, but I was enabled to support it; and I have since been led to reflect upon the merciful dispensation which attended the event. It is very possible, that the effect of the concussion of the brain, which I had so recently received in the Minerve previously to her capture, might have disabled me, for the arduous duty attending on the command of a cruising frigate; and as I had already been indulged by having two acting Captains appointed to my ship, I could not have expected that a third would have been allowed; and had I been obliged then to retire on half pay, with the little interest I possessed, and the deeds of the new war, throwing into shade the achievements of the last; it is very probable that I might never have succeeded in getting a ship; but must have remained, like many of my brother officers, on half pay for the remainder of my days. I landed as a prisoner in France with the comforting recollection that no honour had been lost with my ship; that it was one of the unavoidable occurrences to which all are exposed in the profession of arms. With these feelings, and gratitude for my protection, under a fire of such duration, and of so complicated a nature, my mind was kept in perfect peace.”
At this point of the narrative it may not be irrelevant to introduce some remarks, which occur in the private memoir, on the state of the British prisoners in France; in order to place, in its proper point of view, the general situation of the prisoners, and to consider how far the charges against the French Government for neglect and cruelty are made out. “It is an accusation which has been frequently made, and as I have often given my opinion, not only in conversation, but officially upon the subject, and as the latter stands upon record, it may be right in this place to give the sentiments, which I have frequently and deliberately expressed. But to do complete justice to this subject, and indeed to the French nation, it is necessary to distinguish between the conduct of individuals, and the official measures of the French government. In doing this—under the first head we have a most gratifying task, so numerous are the instances of benevolence, kindness, and the best of feelings, manifested towards our suffering countrymen.
“I have already adverted to the singularly generous conduct of M. Dubois at Cherbourg, of Messrs Perregaux, the bankers, to the benevolence of Monsieur Parmentier, the Mayor of Phalsbourg, and the kindness and ready assistance of the French military authorities, at the different depôts; and I am decidedly of opinion, that had such conduct been sanctioned and encouraged by the Government itself, there is little doubt but the situation of the prisoners would have been very different from what they experienced during the greater part of the war. It will hence be seen that the French people as a people, were by no means implicated in the sufferings of our countrymen; but on the contrary, there are very many instances in which they shewed the kindest feelings towards them; received them into their houses, when found lame or sick on the road, and incapable of continuing their march; and when they informed the nearest brigade of gens d’armes of the circumstance, at once to vindicate themselves from the charge of harbouring deserters, and to procure permission for the sufferer to remain undisturbed, until able to continue his journey. This is the bright side of the picture. The other is of a very different description. It will be seen that the government allowance for the support of a prisoner was quite inadequate to the purpose—and that when administered as it was to them individually in prison, with no means of purchasing food, but through the abominable suttler, famine and disease were the unavoidable consequences. Then again, the arrangement made by the minister of war for the supply of clothes, shoes, and bedding, were tardy, neglectful, and insufficient; and but for the exertions of their own officers, many of the prisoners would undoubtedly have perished in the course of the winter. The places also allotted for their confinement, were, as has been shewn, quite unfit for the purpose; often without roofs, containing mud and pools of water, where their straw was to be deposited for their beds; and with additional abuse attending the straw, which instead of being delivered fresh from the sheaf, was in some instances only fit for the dunghill.
“The manner in which prisoners were also marched from the most distant parts, such as Toulon, and Bourdeaux, and even in many instances from Genoa, and the ports of the Adriatic, was highly reprehensible in the government of a civilized country. It is known that the whole of France, during the late wars, and I believe its dependencies in Europe, were divided into squares about two leagues each way; and at the intersection of all the lines forming these squares, or as nearly as possible, a brigade of gens d’armes was stationed. If a small detachment of prisoners, not exceeding eight or ten, were to be sent from Toulon for instance, to Givet in the Ardennes, they were put under escort of two mounted gens d’armes; were generally handcuffed in pairs, and sometimes in addition were made fast to each other by a rope, and conducted to the nearest brigade, in the line of the destined march; and by this forwarded to the next, in the same manner. At whatever town or village they were to pass the night, they were generally locked up in the common prison; from whence they continued the route with the next brigade the following morning. Left solely to the gens d’armes, it may naturally be supposed, that the treatment was not always the most humane; although as has been shewn in the course of these pages, there were many instances of real kindness and feeling, evinced by these men. But it was too often the case, that the prisoners being without shoes became so lame as to be incapable of marching; they were then for some time driven on at the point of the sabre; sometimes dragged along by being attached to the horse; and at length, when utterly incapable of proceeding, they were deposited in the next prison until able to march. These instances, unhappily, were but too numerous, as the straggling parties of a few individuals were, from time to time, passed on from the coast to the interior. One consisting of a Captain in the navy, an officer of marines, and a private gentleman, who had been taken, coming home passengers from America, is too remarkable to be passed over. Their names are, Captain Lyall of the navy, Major Stanser of the marines, and Mr. Palmer, a private gentleman of Bermuda. They were landed at one of the ports of the western coast of France; and notwithstanding their rank in life, were marched in the same manner as common seamen, from brigade to brigade, and like them confined in the common prison of the place, where they halted for the night; and upon one occasion, after being placed in the Cachot, and shewn the straw upon which they had to pass the night, a fierce mastiff was brought into the place, and the prisoners were told that if they lay perfectly quiet during the night they would not be molested; but if they attempted to get up the dog would seize them; and as a proof of this not being only mentioned to alarm them, whenever they rustled the straw, the dog began to growl. The situation of the prisoners, during the long night, may be imagined. Complaint was made of this treatment by these gentlemen on their arrival at Verdun, but no redress was granted them.
“No sooner had the prisoners in general been deprived of the assistance and countenance of their officers, than the old system of suttlers and wretchedness was renewed, and this state of things, aggravated by hopelessness, was the lot of the increasing numbers added to the depôts by successive captures, from 1805 to the end of the war in 1814.”
In committing this record to paper, Captain Brenton states that he considered he was in the performance of an imperative duty; and, whilst he expressed the grateful sense of the many acts of kindness, received from individuals, he felt called upon to substantiate the statement he has already made, respecting the sufferings of the prisoners, from the inadequacy of the supplies granted, and the measures adopted by the French government for the maintenance of those whom the fate of war had thrown into their hands. It is also much to be wished, that if there were any just causes of complaint with regard to the treatment experienced by the French prisoners in England, the charges should be brought forward in a tangible shape, that they also might be enquired into, and a remedy applied when necessary. But these must not be such wretched garbled statements as those of General Pillet, to whose own countrymen an appeal might be safely made, with the most perfect assurance of their pronouncing the whole work to be totally untrue. I have endeavoured to view the question in such a manner, that a judgment might be formed, as to all its bearings, and I now leave it, in the sanguine hope that many, many years may elapse, before the two nations are again placed in relations of hostility against each other; and that should such an event unhappily recur, they both may have a watchful eye over their prisoners, considering their honour as well as their conscience pledged to protect those who can have no other protection.