Transport Office,
25th June 1812.

NUMBER OF ALL FRENCH COMMISSIONED OFFICERS, PRISONERS OF WAR, ON PAROLE IN GREAT BRITAIN

A considerable number of Officers have been ordered into confinement, for various other breaches of their Parole Engagements.

One point should be noted, that in searching the records to ascertain the various regiments quartered at Norman Cross, in order to fix the date of Macgregor’s plan, it was incidentally found that while the West Kent Regiment was quartered there in 1813, detachments lay at Peterborough, Whittlesea, and other neighbouring towns; these were probably for the purpose of acting if any difficulty arose with the prisoners on parole.  The punishment for breaking parole was, as already mentioned, if the prisoner were recaptured, very severe.  Not only was the ration allowance reduced until all expenses incurred in the capture were paid off, but committal to one of the prisons or to the hulks was also inflicted.

Several of the parole prisoners married.  M. Salvert, commander in the navy, married Helen Govstry of Leek Moor.  Jean Toufflet, a sea-captain, left issue in the town; his widow, née Lorouds, died the 5th February 1870, æt. 84.  M. Chouquet, a sea-captain, left a son living in 1870.  Joseph Vattel, cook to General Brunet, married Sarah Spilsbury.  One, Vandome, a naval officer and a most excellent linguist, used to render the English papers into his native tongue for the benefit of his comrades at the billiard-tables established by the officers.

That the prisoners on parole, like their fellow countrymen in close confinement, added to their means of living by their industry, is proved by the note in the history of Leek that there is in existence an old card, intimating that “James Francis Neau, of Derby Street, sold straw hats, beautiful straw, ivory and bone fancy articles, made by the French prisoners,” and many exquisite models of ships and other nick-nacks, still in existence, testify to the facile talent and marvellously patient industry of these prisoners.

This Francis Neau was a privateer officer who married a Mary Lees; she was living in 1870.

They all walked back together to Leek, the two combatants treating their wounds very lightly; but Decourbes’ wound went wrong, and he died of it in the course of ten days or a fortnight.

The number of prisoners at Leek never exceeded 200, and they came by detachments in 1803, 1805, 1809, and 1812, almost all clearing out after Napoleon’s abdication 5th April 1814.

It will not be forgotten that in the earlier period of the war the prisoners on parole in various parts of the country were all removed to Norman Cross; whether any similar change in their condition was experienced, after the resumption of hostilities in 1803, by the prisoners out upon their parole, remains a matter of uncertainty.

This practice of taking captive so many civilians in the second period of the war, 1803–15, was attributed to the British system of seizing all French vessels of every kind and making their crews captive.  This practice was adopted as a retaliation for the first act of Buonaparte, then ruling France as First Consul, when hostilities were resumed in May 1803.  As a reprisal for what he considered the dishonourable action of two British frigates in seizing in harbour French merchantmen before the formal declaration of war had reached France, the Consul ordered the immediate arrest of every British subject between the age of eighteen and sixty who happened to be in France at that time, thus throwing 10,000 peaceable travellers and others into captivity.

Wellington, replying 4th September 1813 to an application from Mr. J. S. Larpent requesting the General to obtain his release from captivity, wrote:

During the early negotiations a return was furnished to show what had been the result of the general exchange up to the date when fresh arrangements were to be made, and it appeared that 6,056 British prisoners had been received from France, while she had received from the British 16,334, including 4,986 captured at Martinique and Guadeloupe.  On 19th March 1798 by the fresh exchange France had received 12,543, Britain only 5,045, leaving a balance of 7,498 due to England.  The earliest prisoners to be exchanged from Norman Cross left on 24th August 1797, only four months after the first prisoners had been received there.  The contingent was sent to Lynn; it numbered 305, and consisted of 7 captains of privateers, 4 sergeants, 6 corporals, 148 soldiers, 127 seamen and 7 boys, and 6 not specified.  They sailed in the Rosine, which had brought the same number of British to England.

The article of the agreement providing that the prisoners for exchange were not to be selected, but were to be taken according to the priority of their capture, was afterwards modified, so as to select the aged, the infirm, such as were not seamen, and boys under twelve years of age!  Amid all the bickering and obstinacy on both sides in the negotiations as to the treatment and exchange of the prisoners, there is one instance which shows that the chivalrous spirit of the French was not dead.

Although it was a traffic strictly forbidden, some of the prisoners sold their turn of exchange to their more wealthy comrades, the purchaser assuming the name of the vendor, and vice versa.  If detected, the vendor forfeited his rights of exchange, and was kept a prisoner until the end of the war.  Notwithstanding this regulation, it was said that one man had contrived to carry on these transactions from 1797 to 13th January 1800 without detection.  This voluntary prolongation of the imprisonment surely helps to prove the falsity of the statements of the French as to the treatment of the prisoners by the British.

This practice of personating a fellow prisoner was carried out occasionally under more tragic conditions.

In the course of the investigations to establish the facts of the epidemic of 1800–01, a certificate was found with the name François le Fevre crossed out, and the name of Bernard Batrille substituted, with a note that the name of François le Fevre was assumed by Batrille when he entered the hospital to die of consumption.  This was, doubtless, not the sole instance of such practices among the prisoners.  A prisoner high up in the list for exchange, who knew that he was dying, would, when about to enter the hospital, for a sum of money or from friendship, exchange his current number and his name with another man low down in the list, the dying man, if this was done for payment, thus securing a sum of money for his heirs in France, and the other increasing his chance of release by exchange.

During the first period of the war, 1793–1802, exchange went on, with interruptions from the causes mentioned.  The prisoners passed in a sluggish stream through Norman Cross, but so sluggish that many of them were there, confined or out on parole, during the whole five years.  Notwithstanding the exchange the prisons were at times greatly overcrowded, and in 1801, when the French army in Egypt surrendered to Abercrombie, such was the burden of prisoners that no attempt was made to claim the troops as captives, but they were transported in British ships to France.

During the second period of the war negotiations for exchange completely failed.  In April 1810, when there were about 10,000 British prisoners in France, and 50,000 French in Britain, Mr. Mackenzie was sent by the British Ministry to treat for a general exchange, the main condition in the British proposal being that for every French prisoner returned to France, a British prisoner of equal rank should be returned to Britain; that this should go on until the whole of the British prisoners were restored; and after that was accomplished, the British Government would continue the restoration of the French, on the understanding that France on her part returned to his native country, man for man, one of the prisoners of Britain’s allies—i.e. a Spanish or Portuguese of equal rank with the French prisoner handed over by Britain.

BRITISH PRISONERS IN FRANCE—VERDUN—NARRATIVE OF THE REV. J. HOPKINSON

Oh, to be in England,
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf,
Round the Elm tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the Chaffinch sings in the orchard bough,
In England—now.

Browning.

It has been necessary in the preceding chapters to allude occasionally to the English prisoners in France, and a short chapter on their experiences may be deemed not irrelevant to the scheme of this little history.  The author having in his boyhood been personally acquainted with the Rev. John Hopkinson, Rector of Alwalton, near Peterborough, who had been, from February 1804 to April 1814, a prisoner of war in France, will avail himself of the kind permission of this gentleman’s son, the Rev. W. Hopkinson, J.P., of Sutton Grange, Northamptonshire, and commence the chapter with a narrative of his experiences which Mr. J. Hopkinson had himself written, and which was found among his papers after his death in 1853.

Mr. Hopkinson, when liberated; did not continue in the service, but went to Clare College, was ordained, became Precentor of Peterborough Cathedral, and later Rector of Alwalton (about three miles from Norman Cross), where he died in 1853.  The following note was added to the prisoner’s own account by his widow:

Thirty-eight years after the termination of the war, Mr. Hopkinson thought he would take his son to Verdun, to the spot where he, the lad’s father, had spent ten years of what should have been the best period of his life.  He found the chamber in which he had been confined unaltered, and utilised as a barrack room.  Examining a bar in one of the windows, he showed his son a cut three parts through it.

“That,” said Mr. Hopkinson, “was made by me and some comrades with a file made from a watch-spring more than forty years ago, when we were on the eve of an attempt to escape.  We had almost finished cutting the bar, and a little midshipman was in the act of coiling the rope which one of our party had managed to secure from the well in the barrack yard, when the tread of the guard was heard coming to our room; the poor little midshipman dropped it, making sure that he would be killed.  The steps came nearer, and another of the party, quick as lightning and with the skill of a seaman, coiled it in the high earthen pitcher-shaped jar, in which was our supply of water.  Hardly had he finished, when the guard entered and looked round, for the rope had been missed; they searched in the bedding, but not in the jar, and we escaped detection.”

For those guilty of misconduct, breach of parole, or attempts at escape, the subterranean dungeons at the Fortress of Bitche were reserved.  If the accounts of the lives of French prisoners in England are scanty, those of the British in France are meagre in the extreme, being confined principally to short notices of the détenus in Verdun, generally well-to-do people, and naval and military officers, who were fairly well treated.  As to the prisoners in general we read:

“The distress under which the British seamen suffered in France was excessive.  The scanty pittance allowed each man daily consisted of a small square piece of bullock’s liver, a slice of black bread, and a glass of new brandy.  Had it not been for the relief they received from the Patriotic Fund, forwarded to them through a private channel, many of them must have perished from want.

“The object of the French, in treating our seamen with such inhumanity in this respect, was to make them dissatisfied with their own Government, by inducing a belief that they were neglected by it, and thus to tempt them to enter the French service.  Numerous were the offers made to them for that purpose, which, to the honour of our brave but unfortunate tars, were usually rejected with contempt and indignation.

“They resolved to perish, rather than prove traitors to their country.”

“Lieutenants were allowed 56 francs a month from the French Government, which just paid their lodging.  No cause to complain of indulgence, allowed to walk or ride 6 miles in every direction, provided they were in before the shutting of the town gates at 9 o’clock at night.  Captains were obliged to sign their names every 5 days, Lieutenants once a day, all other prisoners twice a day.  No other restrictions, could lodge where they pleased, and as they liked.  There was a first class of society, very good, but very extravagant; they are chiefly people of fortune, who were detained when travelling at the commencement of the war.  The senior naval English officer was Captain Gower, late of the Shannon, then Captain Woodriff and 5 others, besides 38 Lieutenants.

“There were 2 clubs, where there were all the French, and sometimes the English newspapers: in short, if a prisoner has health, he may spend his time pleasantly enough.

“There is no society between the English and French; the latter are a few Military, and tradesmen, who had made their fortunes by the extravagance of Englishmen since the war.”

From various detached sources we obtain other fragmentary glances of Verdun, and learn that only British were confined there, the Austrians and Prussians being at Chalons.  As late as 1805 ordinary sailors were also confined there, as it is recorded that a party managed to escape to England in May of that year.

In the latter part of the same year a party of 150 were removed from Verdun to Valenciennes.  “The march took eight days.  The real gentlemen were allowed on parole; the négociants, or merchants, were confined.”  The best account is from the portfolio of a détenu, published in 1810.  One quotation must suffice:

“The number of prisoners of war at Verdun has generally amounted to 400, consisting chiefly of naval officers and masters of merchant-ships, and including a few officers of the Army, who had been shipwrecked on the French coast, and some passengers who had been taken on their voyage from the East Indies.  Add to these some common seamen, who, instead of being sent to Givet or Saarlouis, the usual depots for sailors, were permitted to remain at Verdun at the intercession of any persons of respectability who would take them into their service.”

There is another brief account by James Forbes, a member of the Society of Antiquaries, who was detained for some months.  Beyond the fact that he was a prisoner in the town, and had to answer the daily roll-call, his lot was not a hard one.  By the interest of Sir Joseph Banks, the “Savant Anglais” was released.

It will be in the recollection of the reader that the British Government provided the clothing of their subjects who were captives in a foreign prison of war.  The dress is described by the author of the article in Chambers’ Journal as a gray jacket and trousers and a straw hat; it contrasted favourably with the suit of many colours in which our Government clad their French prisoners.

In the paragraphs in which the article deals with the British prisoners in Denmark, the anonymous writer shows a sympathy with Denmark which may account for the severe language in which he deals with the British prisoners in that country.  In describing their gambling propensities and consequent moral depravity he uses almost the actual words used by Captain Woodriff and others when they described Les Misérables and their class in the English prisons.

THE TRUCE AND THE PEACE—PRISON EVACUATED, 1802—FINALLY CLEARED, 1814—DEMOLISHED, 1816

Joyous presage of ultimate bliss
   For the heart long depressed by vain yearning;
Timely token of pardon—the kiss
   That reviveth Faith’s innermost burning;
Peace prevailing o’er War’s artifice,
   Love o’er Hate, and delight over Mourning.

Norman Hill, Lingering Winter.

With what feverish anxiety must the occupants of the courts and caserns of Norman Cross have listened to the garbled accounts of the progress of the war which reached their ears towards the close of the eighteenth and the dawn of the nineteenth centuries.  How their hopes must have been raised when they heard of the defeat of the Austrians by Moreau at Hohenlinden, of the sudden crossing of the Alps by their hero Buonaparte, his swoop on to another Austrian army and its defeat at Marengo.  When they learned that in 1800 Austria had signed a Treaty of Peace with France (The Treaty of Lunéville, Feb. 1801) and that England was left to fight single-handed, they must have thought delivery extremely near.  To cheer them further would come the news of the alliance of Russia, Denmark, Sweden, and Prussia to constitute “the armed neutrality,” which though not actually at war with Great Britain, was formed to check her progress and paralyse her navy.  The time when the French Army would have England under its foot and the prison doors would be thrown open must be close at hand.

In their instructions to the auctioneer, the Government made conditions that the tenants were to keep the buildings in repair, and to deliver them up on three months’ notice if required.  The property does not read in the advertisement as one that there would be a rush for.

The landlord of the Old Bell Inn, still in the glory of the coaching and posting days, apparently treated for the wooden building, containing the two houses occupied one by Captain Woodriff the agent and the other by the steward and another officer, the rental of Captain Woodriff’s house to be £12 and that adjoining £10; but even at that rent he did not close.

In January 1803 the whole was let to Mr. Henderson, on condition that he lived on the premises, the barrack master keeping one key of the great gate.  Mr. Henderson paid an extra sum of £10 for Captain Woodriff’s house, which he probably wished to fit up either for his own residence or for the man whom he proposed to leave in charge when he was in London attending to another business which he had there; he also agreed to level the huts, which are not represented on any of the plans, and to sow the ground covered by them with grass seeds.

Between those dates much had taken place to affect the history of the Depot.  The complete supremacy of the British Fleet, the blow given to the Northern Alliance (the Armed Neutrality) by Nelson in the battle of Copenhagen, and on the other hand the defeats inflicted on Austria, England’s continental ally, on whom she relied for her land forces, and the consequent Treaty of Lunéville, left England and France alike in a position which made them in 1802 anxious for a cessation of hostilities, the Treaty of Amiens being the result.

But its conditions were not such as to satisfy the British, who gave up all their conquests but Trinidad and Ceylon, restored the Cape to Holland, with the condition that it should be a free port, and agreed that Malta was to go back to the Knights of St. John, under the guarantee of one of the Great Powers.  France also made sacrifices and withdrew claims, but to the British nation these did not appear to balance those made by their own Government.  Buonaparte had no intention of allowing the peace to be more than a truce.  Among other objects he had in view, he recovered his veterans from their confinement in English prisons, and he never paused in his ambitious schemes.  He strove to increase French influence in Switzerland, Holland, and Italy.  Under the name of consuls he sent agents to England and Ireland, their real object being to make themselves acquainted with the resources of those countries and the chance of their successful invasion.  Egypt had been restored to the Porte by the Treaty, but instead of evacuating that country, the First Consul was utilising his position there to equip a fresh army.

Our Admiralty, immediately after the renewal of the war, called upon the Transport Board to find depots for the parole prisoners, whom we were taking, in merchant vessels and other craft, not ships of war.  Bishops Waltham and Tavistock were suggested, and should the numbers be considerable, Oldham and Tiverton were to be added, while Stapleton Prison was to be prepared for prisoners of war.  This, it will be remembered, was the third and last time that Stapleton had been requisitioned for such a purpose, it having been built originally in 1782 to receive prisoners taken in the war which was ended in the following year by the Treaty of Versailles.  In 1833 it was converted into a workhouse.

On 18th June 1803 the Admiralty appointed, as agents for prisoners of war, Captain Thesiger at Portsmouth, Captain Baker at Stapleton, Captain Pressland at Liverpool, Captain Poulden at Norman Cross.

Mr. Hadley of Lynn contracted to convey prisoners to and from Norman Cross on lighters at 1s. 9d. each, and to victual them at 7d. each, the military guard being carried on the same terms.

Prisoners soon arrived, the first detachment being 179 Frenchmen on 28th August.  Then came 250 from Portsmouth.  They arrived at Portsmouth on board the Pegasus, but deprived of the winged horse and reduced to Shanks’ pony, their journey from Portsmouth to Norman Cross took them from the 5th to the 18th September.  In October several detachments arrived, among them one of over 200 French and 5 Dutch.

There would necessarily be the same anxious watching on the part of the prisoners of the events of the war; they would probably mock at the 300,000 volunteers, foot and mounted, who came forward and rendered the levée en masse unnecessary.  With what elation they must have heard of the Grande Armée de Bretagne, ranged opposite the southern shore of England, separated only by the narrow channel, across which 150,000 French soldiers were to be floated by the 2,000 vessels assembled at Boulogne, ready to transport them so soon as the weather and the supporting fleet for which they were waiting combined to favour the enterprise!  That threatened invasion, which hung like a black terror over England in those early years of the nineteenth century, was for them within their prison walls the bright light of hopeful expectation; and when the news of the 21st October reached England, the news which was communicated to Cadet Hopkinson at Verdun, shorn of its glory and its fateful significance to the French in the taunting words, “Votre Nelson est mort,” it would be told to the prisoners at Norman Cross, in words conveying the whole truth, “Our Nelson has fallen, but not before he had destroyed your fleet, and your country is now no longer a naval power.”  What despair must have again filled their hearts!  If they disbelieved the fact at first, the arrival of Corporal de la Porte and his comrades, followed by crew after crew of the captured sailors and soldiers, must have too surely confirmed the news.