(1) Some Distinguished Prisoners of War

When the roll of the 46th Regiment (or, as it was, the 46th demi-brigade), of the French Army is called, the name of La Tour d’Auvergne brings forward the sergeant-major of the Grenadier Company, who salutes and replies: ‘Dead upon the field of honour!’

This unique homage to ThÉophile de La Tour d’Auvergne—who won the distinguishing title of ‘First Grenadier of the Republican Armies’ in an age and an army crowded with brave men, quite as much, so says history, by his modesty as by his bravery in action—was continued for some time after his death in 1800, was discontinued, was revived in 1887, and has been paid ever since.

In 1795, after the taking of San Sebastian by the French, he applied for leave of absence on account of his health, and started by sea for his native Brittany, but the ship in which he sailed was captured by British cruisers. He was brought to England and sent to Bodmin on parole. Here he insisted upon wearing his Republican cockade, a silly, unnecessary act of bravado which so annoyed some English soldiers that they mobbed him, and, as he showed a disposition to resent the attack, matters would have gone hard with him but for timely rescue. (I reproduce a picture of one of these attacks from his biography by Montorgueil, not on account of its merit, but of its absurdity. La Tour d’Auvergne, it will be noted, uses his sword toasting-fork wise. Not even the most distinguished of parole prisoners was ever allowed to wear his sword, although some were not required to give them up according to rule.) This inspired the following letter from him to the Agent at Bodmin:

‘1st October, 1795.

‘Sir,

‘I address myself to you as the Agent entrusted by your Government with the immediate care of the French prisoners at Bodmin, to acquaint you with the outrage just perpetrated upon me by some soldiers of the garrison in this town, who, on their return from drill, attacked me with their arms, and proceeded to violent extremes with the object of depriving me of my cockade, a distinctive part of my military uniform. I have always worn it during my detention in England, just as your officers, prisoners in my country, have always worn theirs without being interfered with. It is impossible, Sir, that such behaviour towards an officer of the French Republic should have been encouraged by your Government, or that it should countenance any outrage upon peaceable prisoners who are here under your protection. Under these circumstances, Sir, I beg you without delay to get to the root of the insult to which I have been subjected, so that I may be able to adapt my conduct in future accordingly. Into whatever extremity I may find myself reduced by my determination not to remove my distinctive badge, I shall never regard as a misfortune the ills and interferences of which the source will have been so honourable to me.’

The reply of the Agent was probably much the same as the Transport Office made in 1804 to a letter from the Agent at Leek, in Staffordshire, to whom a French midshipman had complained of similar interference.

‘We think the French midshipman very imprudent in wearing his Cockade, as it could answer no good purpose, and might expose him to evils greater than he has already experienced from the rage of the populace, and you are to inform him if he persists he must not expect protection from the consequences.’

In 1797 the inhabitants of Bishop’s Waltham complained of the constant wearing by the prisoners there of Republican cockades, and the reply was exactly as above.

In Cornwall La Tour d’Auvergne occupied himself with literary pursuits, especially with philology, and was pleased and interested to find how much there was in common between phrases and words of Cornwall, and those of Brittany. Concerning his captivity he wrote thus to Le Coz, Archbishop of BesanÇon:

‘I will not bother you with an account of all I have had to suffer from the English during a year of captivity, they being no doubt egged on by our French É[migrÉs] and p[rinces]. My Republican spirit finds it hard to dissemble and to adapt itself to circumstances, so I shall show myself to be what I always have been, Frenchman and patriot. The revered symbol of my nation, the tricolour cockade, was always on my hat, and the dress I wore dans les fers was that which I wore in battle. Hence the hatred let loose against me and the persecutions which I have had to endure.’

He returned to France from Penryn, February 19, 1796, and was killed at Oberhausen in Bavaria in June 1800.

From the following extract from Legard’s biography, and from the phrase dans les fers which I have italicized above, La Tour d’Auvergne would seem to have been in prison, possibly for persistent adherence to cockade-wearing:

‘It was horrible to see the misery of so many brave Frenchmen, crammed into unwholesome dungeons, struggling against every sort of want, exposed to every rigour and every vexation imaginable, and devoured by cruel maladies. La Tour d’Auvergne kept up their courage, helped them in every way, shared his money with them, and was indignant to hear how agents of the Government tried to seduce them from their fidelity, corrupt them, and show them how hateful was the French Government.’

After Trafalgar the Spanish prisoners were confined at Gibraltar, the French, numbering 210 officers and 4,589 men, were brought to England. The rank and file who were landed at Portsmouth were imprisoned at Forton, Portchester, and in seven hulks; those at Plymouth in the Millbay Prison and eight hulks; those at Chatham in four hulks. The officers from the captured ships Fougueux, Aigle, Mont-Blanc, Berwick, Scipion, Formidable, IntrÉpide, Achille, and Duguay Trouin, were sent to Crediton and Wincanton.

Admiral Villeneuve and his suite were first at Bishop’s Waltham, where he was bound by the ordinary rules of a prisoner on parole, except that his limits were extended; he was allowed to visit Lord Clanricarde, and to retain, but not to wear, his arms.

He had asked to be sent to London, but, although this was not granted him, he was allowed to choose any town for parole, north or west of London, but not within thirty miles.

He had leave to visit any of the neighbouring nobility and gentry, and his lieutenants could go three miles in any direction. He chose Reading, which was not then a regular parole town, although it became one later. Hither he went with Majendie, his captain, whose third experience it was of captivity in England (he had been actually taken prisoner five times, and had served two years, one month, twenty-five days as prisoner in England), Lucas of the Redoutable, and Infernet of the IntrÉpide. Villeneuve and Majendie attended Nelson’s funeral in London, and a little later Majendie had permission to go to France to try to arrange some definite system of prisoner-exchange between the two countries. In March 1806 Villeneuve was exchanged for four post-captains, and went to France with his officers and suite on the condition that once in every two months he gave notice to a British agent of his place of residence, and was not to change the same without notifying it.

Upon his arrival in Paris Villeneuve found that Lucas and Infernet had been much honoured by Bonaparte and made rear-admirals. No notice was taken of him by Bonaparte, who had always disliked and despised him, and one day he was found stabbed at the HÔtel de la Patrie, Rennes. Bonaparte was suspected of foul play, and again was heard the saying, ‘How fortunate Napoleon is! All his enemies die of their own accord!’ At St. Helena, however, Bonaparte strenuously denied the imputation.

Lucas, captain of the Redoutable, the ship whence Nelson received his death-shot, was at Tiverton. His heroic defence, his fight against the TÉmÉraire and the Victory at the same time, resulting in a loss out of 645 men of 300 killed and 222 wounded, are among the immortal deeds of that famous day. Only 169 of his men were made prisoners, and of these only 35 came to England; the rest, being wounded, went down with the ship.

Villeneuve said when he wrote to congratulate Lucas upon being honoured by Bonaparte:

‘Si tous les capitaines de vaisseaux s’Étaient conduits comme vous, À Trafalgar, la victoire n’eÛt pas ÉtÉ un instant indÉcisive, certainement personne ne le sait aussi bien que moi.’

His conduct was so much appreciated in England, that at a supper given him by Lady Warren his sword was returned to him.

Rear-Admiral Dumanoir of the Formidable was also at Tiverton. Although he fought at Trafalgar, he was not captured there, as it was thought in many quarters he should have been or have died with his ship. From Tiverton he wrote, with permission, under date of January 2, 1806, to The Times, replying to some rather severe remarks which had been made in that paper concerning his behaviour at Trafalgar, tantamount to saying that during the greater part of the battle he had remained a mere passive spectator. It is not necessary to relate the facts, which are fully given by James, the naval historian.

In 1809 he had special leave to go on parole to France to defend himself, but the Transport Office refused to allow three captains and two adjutants to go with him, because of the continual refusal of the French Government to release British prisoners. At first he was not allowed to take even his secretary, a non-combatant, but later this was permitted. The Court Martial in France acquitted him, and in 1811 he was made a vice-admiral and Governor of Danzig, and behaved with great credit during the siege of that city by the Allies in 1814. In connexion with this, it is interesting to note that the only British naval flag trophy at the Invalides in Paris was captured by Dumanoir at Danzig.

It is not out of place here to note that Cartigny, the last French survivor of Trafalgar, who died at HyÈres in 1892, aged 101, had a considerable experience of war-prisoner life, for, besides having been on a Plymouth hulk, he was at Dartmoor and at Stapleton. He attended the Prince Imperial’s funeral at Chislehurst in 1879.

Marienier, a black general, captured at San Domingo, was, with his four wives, brought to Portsmouth. The story is that, being entitled to parole by his rank, when the Agent presented him the usual form for signature, he said: ‘Je ne connais pas le mystÈre de la plume; c’est par ceci (touching the hilt of his sword) que je suis parvenu au grade que je tiens. VoilÀ mon aide-de-camp; il sait Écrire, et il signera pour moi.’

Tallien, Revolutionist writer, prominent Jacobin, agent of the Terror in Bordeaux, and largely responsible for the downfall of Robespierre, was captured on his way home from Egypt, whither he had gone with Bonaparte’s expedition. As he was a non-combatant he was only a prisoner a short time, and went to London, where he was lionized by the Whig party. He married Madame de Fontenai, whose salon in Paris was the most brilliant of the Directory period, and where Bonaparte first met Madame de Beauharnais.

In 1809 FranÇois, nephew of the great actor Talma, was taken prisoner. He was nobody in particular, but his case is interesting inasmuch as his release on January 1, 1812, was largely brought about by the interest of Talma’s great friend, John Kemble.

Admiral Count Linois was as worthy a prisoner as he had proved himself many times a worthy foe. A French writer describes him as having displayed during his captivity a philosophic resignation; and even the stony-hearted Transport Board, in acceding to his request that his wife should be allowed to join him at Bath, complimented him on his behaviour ‘which has formed a very satisfactory contrast to that of many officers of high rank, by whom a similar indulgence has been abused.’

Lucien, Bonaparte’s second brother, was a prisoner in England, but very nominally, from 1810 to 1814. He could not fall in with the grand and ambitious ideas of his brother so far as they touched family matters. Bonaparte, having made his brothers all princes, considered that they should marry accordingly. Lucien married the girl he loved; his brother resented it, and passed the Statute of March 30, 1806, by which it was enacted that ‘Marriages of the Imperial Family shall be null and void if contracted without the permission of the Emperor, as the princes ought to be devoted without reserve to the great interests of the country, and the glory of our house.’ He wanted Lucien to marry the Queen of Etruria, widow of Louis I, Prince of Parma, a match which, when Tuscany should be annexed to the Empire, would mean that their throne would be that of Spain and the Indies.

So Lucien sailed for the United States, but was captured by a British cruiser carried to Malta, and thence to England. He was sent on parole to Ludlow, where he lived at Dinham House. Then he bought Thorngrove, near Worcester, where he lived until 1814, and where he wrote Charlemagne, ou l’Église sauvÉe.

Cambronne, wounded at the head of the Imperial Guard at Waterloo, and reputed author of a famous mot which he never uttered, was for two hours on a Portsmouth hulk, but was soon placed on parole, and was at Ashburton in Devonshire until November 1815. The grand-daughter of Mrs. Eddy, at whose house Cambronne lodged, still preserves at the Golden Lion a portrait of the general, given by him to Mrs. Eddy. From England he wrote to Louis XVIII, professing loyalty, and offering his services, but on his arrival in Paris was brought up for trial on these counts:

(1) Having betrayed the King. (2) Having made an armed attack on France. (3) Having procured aid for Bonaparte by violence. He was adjudged Not Guilty on all three.

Admiral De Winter, Commander of the Dutch fleet at Camperdown, was a prisoner for a year in England, but I cannot learn where. It is gratifying to read his appreciation of the kindly treatment he received, as expressed in his speech at his public entry into Amsterdam after his release in December 1798.

‘The fortune of war previously forced me to live abroad, and, being since then for the first time vanquished by the enemy, I have experienced a second state of exile. However mortifying to the feelings of a man who loves his country, the satisfactory treatment I met with on the part of the enemy, the English, and the humane and faithful support and assistance they evinced towards my worthy countrymen and fellow sufferers, have considerably softened the horrors of my situation. Nay! Worthy burghers! I must not conceal from you that the noble liberality of the English nation since this bloody contest justly entitles them to your admiration.’

De Winter’s flag-ship, the Vryheid, was for many years a hulk at Chatham.

(2) Some Statistics

Statistics are wearisome, but, in order that readers may form some idea of the burden cast on the country by the presence of prisoners of war, I give a few figures.

During the Seven Years’ War the annual average number of prisoners of war in England was 18,800, although the total of one year, 1762, was 26,137. This, it must be remembered, was before the regular War Prison became an institution, so that the burden was directly upon the people among whom the prisoners were scattered. Of these, on an average, about 15,700 were in prisons healthy, and 1,200 sick; 1,850 were on parole healthy, and 60 sick. The total net cost of these prisoners was £1,174,906. The total number of prisoners brought to Britain between the years 1803 and 1814 was 122,440. Of these 10,341 died whilst in captivity, and 17,607 were exchanged or sent home sick or on parole. The cost of these was £6,800,000.

The greatest number of prisoners at one time in Britain was about 72,000 in 1814.

The average mortality was between one and three per cent., but epidemics (such as that which at Dartmoor during seven months of 1809 and 1810 caused 422 deaths—more than double the total of nineteen ordinary months—and that at Norman Cross in 1801 from which, it is said, no less than 1,000 prisoners died) brought up the percentages of particular years very notably. Thus, during the six years and seven months of Dartmoor’s existence as a war-prison, there were 1,455 deaths, which, taking the average number of prisoners as 5,600, works out at about four per cent., but the annual average was not more than two and a quarter per cent., except in the above-quoted years. The average mortality on the prison ships was slightly higher, working out all round at about three per cent., but here again epidemics made the percentages of particular years jump, as at Portsmouth in 1812, when the average of deaths rose to about four per cent.

Strange to say, the sickness-rate of officers on parole was higher than that of prisoners in confinement. Taking at random the year 1810, for example, we find that at one time out of 45,940 prisoners on the hulks and in prisons, only 320 were in hospital, while at the same time of 2,710 officers on parole no less than 165 were on the sick-list. Possibly the greater prevalence of duels among the latter may account for this.

I do not claim completeness for the following list, for neglect has allowed the obliteration of many stones in our churchyards which traditionally mark the last resting-places of prisoners of war.

At New Alresford, Hampshire, on the west side of the church:

‘Ici repose le corps de M. Joseph Hypolite Riouffe, enseigne de vaisseau de la Marine ImpÉriale et Royale qui mourut le 12 Dec. 1810, ÂgÉ 28 ans. Il emporta les regrets de tous ses camarades et personnes qui le connurent.’

‘Ci-gÎt le corps de M. P^re Garnier, sous-lieut. au 66^me rÉgiment d’Infanterie FranÇaise, nÉ le 14 Avril 1773, mort le 31 Juillet 1811.’

‘Ci-gÎt le corps de M. C. Lavau, officier de commerce, dÉcÉdÉ le 25 de Xbre 1811, et la 29 de son Âge.’

‘Ici est le corps de Marie Louise V^ve Fournier, Épouse de FranÇois Bertet, capitaine au Corps ImpÉrial d’Artillerie FranÇaise, dÉcÉdÉe le 11^me Avril 1812, ÂgÉe de 44 ans.’

‘Ci-gÎt Jean de l’Huille, lieutenant d’Artillerie FranÇaise, dÉcÉdÉ le 6 Avril 1812, ÂgÉ de 51.’

At Leek, Staffordshire:

‘Çy-gÎt Jean Marie Claude Decourbes, enseigne de vaisseau de la Marine ImpÉriale de France, dÉcÉdÉ 17 Octobre 1812, ÂgÉ de 27 ans—Fidelis Decori Occubuit Patriaeque Deoque.’

‘Jean-Baptiste Milloy. Capitaine 72^me cavalerie, dÉcÉdÉ 2 Sept. 1811, ÂgÉ de 43 ans.’

‘Joseph Debec, Capitaine du navire “La Sophie” de Nantes. Obiit Sept. 2^me 1811, ÂgÉ de 54 ans.’

‘Charles Luneaud, Capitaine de la Marine ImpÉriale. Mort le 4^me Mars 1812.’

There also died at Leek, but no stones mark their graves, General Brunet (captured at San Domingo, with his A.D.C. Colonel Degouillier, and his Adjutant-General, Colonel Lefevre), Colonel FÉlix of the Artillery, Lieut.-Col. Granville, Captain Pouget, Captain Dupuis of the 72nd Infantry, Captain FranÇois Vevelle (1809), Lieut. Davoust of the Navy, son of the General, and Midshipmen Meunier, Berthot, and Birtin—the last-named was a prisoner eleven years, and ‘behaved extremely well’. Also there are registered the burials of Jean le Roche, in 1810, aged 44, J. B. Lahouton, died 1806, aged 28; ‘C.A.G. A French Prisoner’ in 1812, aged 62; and Alexander Gay, in 1850.

At Okehampton, Devon:

‘Cette pierre fut ÉlevÉe par l’amitiÉ À la mÉmoire d’Armand Bernard, nÉ au Havre en Normandie, mariÉ À Calais À Mlle Margot; deuxiÈme officier de commerce, dÉcÉdÉ Prisonnier de Guerre À Okehampton, le 26 Oct. 1815. AgÉ 33 ans.

A l’abri des vertus qui distinguaient la vie,

Tu reposes en paix, ombre tendre et chÉrie.’

‘Ci-gÎt AdelaÏde Barrin de Puyleanne de la Commune de Montravers, DÉp^t des Deux-SÈvres, nÉe le 21 Avril 1771, dÉcÉdÉe À Okehampton le 18 FÉv. 1811. Ici repose la mÈre et l’enfant.’

In the churchyards of Wincanton and Andover are stones to the memories of Russian and Polish officers.

In the churchyard at Tenterden, Kent, there is a tomb upon which is carved a ship and a recumbent figure, with the epitaph:

‘Hier Legt Begraven Schipper Siebe Nannes, Van de Jower in Vriesland, is in den Heere Gernstden, 8 November, 1781. Oudt 47 Jaren.’ On the other side is inscribed:

By the way, it may be remarked, in association with the above Dutch burial, that there are to-day in Tenterden work-people named Vanlanschorten, who are said to be descended from a prisoner of war.

At Bishop’s Castle church, in Montgomeryshire, there is a stone opposite the belfry door inscribed:

‘A la MÉmoire de Louis Pages, Lieut.-Col. des chevaux-lÉgers; chevalier des ordres militaires des Deux Siciles et d’Espagne. Mort À Bishop’s Castle le 1^er Mai 1814, ÂgÉ de 40 ans.’

In the Register of the same church is recorded the baptism of a son of Antoine Marie Jeanne Ary Bandart, Captain of the 4th Regiment of Light Infantry, Member of the Legion of Honour, a prisoner of war; and fifteen months later the burial of the child. These are in 1813 and 1814. In the latter year also is recorded the baptism of a son of Joseph and Maria Moureux.

In the churchyard of Moreton-Hampstead, Devon, are ranged against the wall stones with the following epitaphs:

‘A la mÉmoire de Louis Ambroise Quanti, Lieut, du 44 RÉg^t du Corps ImpÉrial d’Artillerie de Marine. AgÉ de 33 ans. DÉcÉdÉ le 29 Avril 1809.’ The Masonic compass and dividers follow the inscription.

‘Ici repose le corps de M. Armand Aubry, Lieut, du 70^me RÉg^t d’Infanterie de Ligne. AgÉ de 42 ans. DÉcÉdÉ le 10 Juin 1811. Priez Dieu pour le repos de son Âme.’ This is followed by two crossed swords.

‘A la mÉmoire de Jean FranÇois Roil; Aspirant de la Marine ImpÉriale, ÂgÉ de 21 ans. DÉcÉdÉ le 22 Janvier 1811.’ This has as emblem a sword and anchor crossed.

There are still in Moreton-Hampstead two shops bearing the name of Rihll. To the register-entries of two of the above deaths is added: ‘These were buried in Wooling, according to Act of Parliament.’

In the churchyard of Ashburton, Devon, is a stone thus inscribed:

‘Ici

Repose FranÇois Guidon natif de Cambrai en France, Sous-Lieutenant au 46^me RÉg^t de Ligne. DÉcÉdÉ le 18 7bre 1815. AgÉ de 22 ans. Requiescat in Pace.’

At East Dereham, Norfolk:

‘In memory of Jean de la Narde, son of a notary public of Saint Malo, a French prisoner of war, who, having escaped from the bell tower of this Church, was pursued and shot by a soldier on duty. October 6th, 1799. Aged 28.’

Mr. Webb, of Andover, sends me the following registrations of death:

J. Alline. Prisoner of War. March 18, 1802.

Nicholas Ockonloff. Prisoner of War. March 19, 1808.

Michael Coie. Prisoner of War. November 9, 1813. [For an account of his funeral see pp. 439–40.]

At Odiham, in Hampshire, are the graves of two French prisoners of war. When I visited them in August 1913, the inscriptions had been repainted and a memorial wreath laid upon each grave. The inscriptions are as follows:

‘Cy-gÎt Piere Feron, Capitaine au 66^e RÉgiment de Ligne, Chevalier de l’Empire FranÇais, nÉ À Reims, DÉpart^t de la Marne, le 15 AoÛt 1766, dÉcÉdÉ À Odiham le 8 Mai 1810.’

‘Pierre Julian Jonneau, son of Jean Joseph Jonneau, de Daure, and of Marie Charlotte Franquiny de Feux, officer in the administration of the French Navy. Born in the Isle of RhÉ. Died at Odiham, September 4th, 1809, in the 29th year of his age.

‘“He was a Prisoner of War. Death hath made him free.”’

During the Communist trouble in France in 1871, quite a large number of French people came over to Odiham until order should be restored, and it was during their stay here, but not by them, that the above-mentioned graves were put in order. The old houses facing the Church and the stocks in Bury Close, and those by the large chalk-pit at the entrance to the town, remain much as when they were the lodgings of the prisoners of war.