by Roy Adkins
Officers on parole mixed with the local population, at times marrying local women, and earned additional money by teaching a range of activities such as French, fencing and dancing, while others established theatrical groups and became part of local society. Lieutenant Gicquel des Touches thought that the parole town of Tiverton ‘was quite a pleasant town, but which seemed to me remarkably monotonous after the restless life to which I was accustomed . . . I made the most of my leisure time to refresh and complete my education. Some of my more well-read friends gave me lessons in literature and history; I repaid them by teaching them fencing, in which I always remained well practised.’23 Relations were not always harmonious, however, as violence could break out between prisoners and the local people.
As the war dragged on a few prisoners were released, usually as a reward for acts of bravery and kindness, and over seventeen thousand prisoners were sent back to France because they were sick and injured, although this was not reciprocated. Even so, over ten thousand prisoners died during their confinement in Britain. Some of their gravestones survive, but most were buried in unmarked mass graves. Decades later an elderly man recalled that as a young boy he often watched the burial of those who died at Millbay Prison in Plymouth and that ‘they were taken from the prison gates to the grave in a cart made for the purpose, drawn by a donkey belonging to old Samuel Fuge, who had the contract for the work’.24 He related one particular incident:A boy was in the burial ground one morning for the purpose of catching birds with bird lime on a thorn-bush. Seeing a grave not filled in, he got down on the coffin to hide himself from the birds; hearing a noise in the coffin he was soon out again, and ran away, quite alarmed and frightened, down to the entrance gate that stood near, where the Athenaeum now stands. Some persons who were passing, seeing the poor boy, asked him what was the matter, when he kept crying out, ‘A man buried alive.’ Several persons went up to the grave, when they found the boy’s story was true. The lid of the coffin being raised, the poor French prisoner was soon taken up, and immediately conveyed to the prison infirmary. After a few months he got quite convalescent, and was sent home to France - one of the exchanged prisoners. After his arrival home, he wrote to the Rev. Herbert Mends, minister of Batter-street Chapel, Plymouth, asking if he would be kind enough to find the boy who was the means of saving his life. Mr. Mends, after making inquiries, was fortunate enough to discover who the boy was, and replied to the letter by giving particulars respecting him. In the course of a few days he received another letter from France, with an enclosure for five pounds, asking him if he would kindly hand it over to the boy, also stating that he (the Frenchman) would forward him the same amount yearly so long as he lived. The money was duly received for four or five years, when Mr. Mends received an account of the Frenchman’s death.25
As the burials were frequently not marked with gravestones, they were soon forgotten after the end of the war. In 1882 several bodies from Millbay Prison were rediscovered at Plymouth: ‘In excavating on the site of the Athenaeum extension building, the workmen have disturbed the supposed remains of several of the French prisoners of war, who . . . were interred in what is known at present as the Crescent. Great numbers of these unfortunate exiles appear to have been buried in this spot, as scarcely a yard of the ground in and around the Crescent can be disturbed but some human remains are turned up by the workman’s shovel.’26 They were reburied ‘with befitting marks of respect’27 in Plymouth’s Ford Park Cemetery. A television centre building at nearby Derry’s Cross, constructed over part of the burial ground, was reputedly haunted by ghostly appearances.
Those who died on board the River Medway hulks were buried on St Mary’s Island, between Chatham and Gillingham, but a major extension to Chatham Dockyard from 1864 led to many of the bones being dug up. Due respect was paid to these men:The remains were . . . collected and reinterred, in the presence of the French naval attaché in England, within a railed-in enclosure two hundred feet square, laid out with flower-beds, shrubs, and gravel paths. In the centre the Admiralty had a memorial stone erected; comprising, on a raised pedestal, a finely carved female figure in armour, cloaked and holding in her hand an inverted torch, the figure being surmounted by a canopy of stone, also fittingly carved and decorated. A granite panel was placed on one face of the pedestal with this inscription in gilt letters:—
Here are gathered together
The remains of many brave soldiers and sailors
Who having once been the foes and afterwards
The captives of England,
Now find rest in her soil,
Remembering no more the animosities of war, or
The sorrows of imprisonment.
They were deprived of the consolation of closing
Their eyes
Among the countrymen they loved,
But they have been laid in an honoured grave
By a nation which knows how to respect valour
And to sympathise with misfortune.28
Only a few years later, in 1904, owing to a further extension of the dockyard, the remains of the 521 bodies and the memorial were moved to the grounds of the naval barracks in Gillingham, in front of the chapel. This is now St George’s Centre, itself a major naval memorial to those Chatham-based ships lost in the world wars.
The expedition to Walcheren may have yielded the prize of numerous prisoners-of-war, but the disastrous British withdrawal at the end of 1809 was in contrast to the French successes in Spain just beforehand that had given them control of much of the southern part of the country. Europe was now within Napoleon’s grasp, but at the extreme edges his empire was slipping away. In South America Sir Sidney Smith, who was commanding the British naval presence there, had sent Captain Yeo to lead a combined force of British, Portuguese and Brazilians to attack the colony of French Guiana in December 1808. By 14 January 1809 the whole territory had been captured and was given over to Brazilian rule. That same month Rear-Admiral Sir Alexander Cochrane and Lieutenant-General George Beckwith had led almost the whole of the British forces deployed in the West Indies in an attack on Martinique. The island (and Diamond Rock) fell within a matter of weeks, although desperate attempts by the French to regain control continued for several months. Willaumez was supposed to sail to Martinique, but instead his squadron had become stuck in Basque Roads and suffered the fireship attack of Thomas Cochrane (nephew of Alexander Cochrane). The Spanish uprising against France isolated the remaining French colonies, leaving them no local allies, and the Spaniards, with support from some of Alexander Cochrane’s ships, managed to take the remaining French area on Haiti by early June. Many of the French troops from here were evacuated to New Orleans and were still there to join in the defence of that city against the British nearly five years later. This left Guadeloupe as the only surviving French colony in the West Indies.
For years Guadeloupe had been a safe haven for the French privateers that preyed on the trade between the West Indies and Britain, but now that it was isolated Rear-Admiral Cochrane, again with Beckwith, was determined to leave them no hiding place. At the start of 1810 he led his fleet in a major assault on the island. On board Cochrane’s flagship, the Pompee, Midshipman William Bowers kept a record of the attack:On the 22nd of January, the men-of-war and transports, having completed the embarkation of the troops destined for the reduction of the enemy’s remaining possessions in this quarter, sailed from Fort Royal Bay, Martinico [Martinique], and proceeded to Prince Rupert’s in the island of Dominica, where the final dispositions were made. The military force consisted of six thousand seven hundred men. These were divided into five brigades, forming two divisions, and a reserve; the whole under the chief command of Lieutenant Sir George Beckwith. All being prepared, on the morning of the 26th the fleet weighed, and quitted Prince Rupert’s; the second division proceeding to the Saintes, where it anchored the same day, while the first, with the commander-in-chief under charge of our ship, steered for Gosier Bay, or Roadstead, on the southern coast of that part
of Guadeloupe called Grand Terre, and between three and four leagues east of the large and handsome town of Point à Petre, the emporium of the island, where we anchored on the following day.29
The British lost no time in landing troops, as they were unopposed, but with such a strong force no attempt was made to surprise the French. Instead a message was sent to the nearest French position demanding their surrender, as Bowers described:We had no sooner anchored than a summons was despatched to Fort Fleur d’Epée, a strong post, about a league distant from the anchorage, which was not however complied with. During the night, and early the following morning, the whole of the first division and reserve were disembarked without accident or opposition, at the Village of Marie, Capes Terre, a few leagues distant, covered by the squadron; the whole instantly pushed forward to the southward, keeping the coast, and on the 30th, at noon, advancing by the pass of Somme Chien, reached Trois Rivières, sending forward some advanced posts in the direction of the enemy, who had concentrated his principal force, consisting of between three and four thousand troops in the neighbourhood of Basse Terre. These were strongly entrenched on a range of heights to the north-east of that city, their right flanked by the sea to the west, and their line extending thence to the strong post of Matabau, the outposts of which, forming their extreme left, were flanked again by the sea to the eastward.30
At the same time, the second division that had initially sailed to the Saintes now landed to the rear of the French. Caught in this pincer movement, the French were forced to give ground, as Bowers observed from his ship:
Map of the Island of Guadaloupe
The following morning [30 January], anchoring a little to the northward of Basse Terre, [the second division] disembarked . . . a little in the rear of the enemy’s right; a movement which caused him to abandon the posts of Palmiste and Morne Hauel on his left in order to extend his line to the westward. Meanwhile the first division and reserve advanced rapidly, the enemy abandoning in succession the heights of D’Olot and others. On taking possession of Palmiste on the 2nd February, we lost sight of them, among the mountains, and our co-operation being no longer necessary on this side of the island, we bore up to join the left wing to leeward. This we found strongly posted on some heights on the enemy’s right, an incessant cannonade being kept up between the hostile batteries.31
As so often occurred in amphibious attacks, seamen were landed from various ships to man the guns, as Bowers described: ‘On our side [of the island], these [batteries] were principally served by the seamen of the squadron55, now further reinforced from our ship, and nothing could exceed the alacrity and good-will with which each and all performed their arduous duties, for service by night and day was one of unremitted fatigue. Seamen indeed are in general as unrivalled in serving in, as in storming, a battery, and in all operations, particularly along shore, have ever been found effective auxiliaries to the army.’32
One of the seamen landed was the Irishman Henry Walsh, from the Alfred, who left a record of his involvement:Our fleet anchored before the town of Bastar and landed one hundred sailors that night, and brought up to our army two mortars and plenty of ammunition before morning, I being one of those sailors that was chose to go on shore on said duty to assist our army. This was the time I thought of making my fortune. But believe me I was greatly deceived in this for we were employed in conveying cannon and ammunition to the army both night and day, which I am very sure was the most toilsome and wearisome time I ever passed in my lifetime. There is no roads or highways in this island excepting pathways which nature has formed itself, and these indeed is most beautifully interwoven in the form of arches in many places which is most elegant to behold, as the orange and lemon trees chiefly composes these delightful shades so that you might reach your hand on either side and pull fruit of almost any kind that is delightful. We had no horses to assist us in dragging these mortars and field pieces through
those lonely pathways which in many places is almost impassable and particularly when we ascended the mountains. We upset these mortars several times down into ditches which was very difficult to get them out again.33
Some of the seamen were wounded, including an impressed American, James Durand, who related that ‘I was one of a party which, on the fifth morning, was making a breast works and platform on which we were to plant some more mortars. While working there, an 18 pound shot from them struck the planking next me and a splinter of it broke my leg just below the calf.’34 On the next day came the pitched battle that both sides were preparing for, and from his position as part of a gun crew Walsh witnessed the ebb and flow of the fighting:Morning coming on being the 3rd day of February, by break of day the house which we remained in all night was entirely knocked down over our heads almost before we could get out of it. As the enemy’s shots and shells reached from their batteries on us, the British army then immediately beat to arms and drew their troops in battle array on the plains of Matabar, which was about ten miles in circumference. The French army immediately gathered together and marched out of this garrison down to this plain in order to engage our army. Our artillery being entirely few in number the sailors being stationed to the field pieces to assist them in working the cannons as we understood that exercise. So I being stationed to a gun also and so we advanced against our enemy. We engaged and fought for some time but was obliged to retreat. But we rallied again and regained our ground but was obliged to retreat a second time. But we rallied again and forced them to retreat again, and when the French seen that we were pursuing them eagerly they seemed to decoy us on to a place where they had undermined [and planted explosives] and a train [fuse] laid to blow us all up. But our general being a skilful man in war, he deemed that some danger was nearby by the manoeuvres of our enemies, and accordingly sounded retreat and by this means saved the lives of his army. For there was close to us a snare laid for us which surely would prove our destruction, had our army advanced a little further.35
Walsh described how the French, having failed in their plan, surrendered:The French seeing they were deceived in their scheme or stratagem immediately entered their garrison and hoisted a flag of truce, in order to bury the dead which indeed was very numerous for the plain for some miles was over-spread with killed and wounded. There must have been great slaughter on both sides, when this engagement lasted from daylight in the morning until 4 o’clock in the afternoon. As the weather being so excessively warm it became very necessary for both sides to bury their dead immediately, lest it should cause a plague. But our army had slaves continually burying the dead during the time of the engagement. However next day a French ambassador came to sue for peace, and in some days entirely surrendered the island up to our general.36
It had taken just eight days to capture the island of Guadeloupe, but while it lasted Midshipman Bowers considered that the battle was hard fought:The contest, though short, was severe; the enemy defended himself on some points with much obstinacy, and made some determined charges; in one of which a certain regiment, composed principally of foreigners, was only saved from a total rout by the brave Forty-sixth. Our loss in killed and wounded was between three and four hundred. With Guadeloupe fell its two dependencies - St. Martin’s and St. Eustatius, the last of the enemy’s transatlantic possessions. The field of enterprize for the navy was but limited, and the promotion, to our great disappointment, corresponded. Our casualty only occurred among the officers of this arm; this was with a lieutenant of the Sceptre, who had his head knocked off by imprudently exposing himself on the rampart of the battery, in which he commanded a detachment of seamen.37
The injured American James Durand, on board the Narcissus, reckoned that ‘the British lost, in killed and wounded, more than 300 men. The islanders’ loss was said to be more than 700. The wounded were all taken on board and, after a common attendance with our own people, were received as prisoners of war.’38 He added ruefully: ‘I had been in the service of the British for more than a year and if I continued seven more, I decided I
would see my limbs scattered all over the globe . . . "If I kill or am killed,” said I to myself, “who is there to benefit except King George?”’39
With the fall of Guadeloupe France had lost all its bases in the Caribbean, which greatly benefited the security of British trade as well as being a severe blow to French trade, as was noted in The British Neptune newspaper:The capture of Guadeloupe, the last of the enemy’s colonies in the West Indies, cuts the knot of contest which has so long existed between this country and America, as France has no longer any colonial produce to carry in neutral bottoms [mostly American ships]. Guadeloupe annually exports about 190,000 quintals of sugar, 70,000 of coffee, 15,000 of indigo, 1000 of cocoa, 6000 of cotton, besides cinnamon, balsam capivi, honey, hides, sulphur &c. . . . The quantity of sugar now in the island is very considerable, although this article is now selling at 8s. a pound in France. The supply must affect the English market, and reduce sugar to a more moderate price than it has lately sold for.40
The loss of the French colonies would also have an effect on the continuing decline of slavery. After a long campaign the British slave trade had been stopped in 1807. The following year the United States made it illegal to import slaves into America, but it was left to individual states to enforce the law. Slavery itself was still legal in America, as in the British colonies, but in Britain there was growing public opinion against it. Within a very few years slavery would become an issue of righteous indignation on the part of the British, and a subject for outcry in the newspapers, as in one comment in early 1811:To the disgrace of America, we copy the following advertisement from a recent New York paper: - ‘Wanted to purchase, a smart Black Boy, of good temper and character: one accustomed to house-work will be preferred. Also, a steady, middle-aged Black Woman, who is a good cook, washer, and ironer, and can be well recommended for both or either. A good price will be given - Apply at Warne’s Register and Commission Office, No. 2, Robinson-street. - Nov. 15’