Meet an Englishman—At last put on parole—Dine with Lieutenant Horton—Proceed to Cambray—Relics of Archbishop Fénélon—Meet Captain Otter at Verdun—Prisoners’ amusements—Author and Captain Otter establish a school for midshipmen—Author moves into country quarters—Severe censorship of prisoner’s letters—Ordered to Blois—Purchase a cart and horses.

We reached Arras in the afternoon. On entering the town we were followed by a crowd of idlers, who I rather think took us for a caravan of wild beasts. Among this choice assemblage I perceived a sailor who looked like an Englishman. “What are you doing here?” I called out at a venture. “I am Lieutenant Horton’s servant,” answered he. “Pray,” said I, “who is he?” “He is the lieutenant of the sailors at this dep?t.”

“Then,” said I, “take this to him,” giving him a piece of paper with my name on it. “Aye, aye, sir,” said he, and ran off to execute his errand. We were, as before, ushered into the common gaol with due ceremony, where we were received by another Brigadier, who had the honour of being gouverneur. The gaol was considerably larger than those we had lodged in on the road, and the people were civil. We ordered dinner, which I had to pay [pg 312]for without doing it justice, in consequence of the appearance of Lieutenant Horton with a French commissary, to inform myself and officers we were on parole, and the former, like a generous sailor, begged us all to dine with him at his house. We made ourselves as smart as circumstances would allow, and accompanied him to a snug little house where he lived. He introduced us to his wife, who was a very kind person and paid us every attention, and I shall ever retain a feeling of gratitude for their hospitality. In the evening we were joined by the English surgeon of the dep?t, who engaged us to dine with him the following day. A servant was sent to the American hotel to bespeak rooms for us, and the day after I engaged a carriage to take us to Verdun, for which I was to pay eight napoleons, and find the coachman. In the evening, or rather night, we took possession of our new quarters, which from what I had lately been accustomed to, appeared a paradise, although the doctor and purser declared they were half bled to death by bugs and fleas. We breakfasted like gentlemen, and afterwards strolled about the town, to the amusement of the inhabitants, who, as we passed them, made great eyes at us. I shall not trouble my readers with a description of Arras, as they may satisfy their curiosity, if they wish it, by consulting a Gazeteer. At five o’clock the lieutenant called on me, and we all repaired to the surgeon’s house. He gave us a good dinner, and was very attentive. At ten o’clock they accompanied us to the inn, where they took their final [pg 313]leave, as we were to start in our new vehicle at five in the morning.

At the appointed time behold us seated in our coach chattering like magpies, and going at the rapid speed of about five miles an hour. At Cambray we dined and slept. We visited the cathedral, which, thanks to those honest, religious men, the Republicans, was in total ruins. All the Virgins and saints were decapitated and the quiet repose of the dead disturbed by their pure, delicate hands. “Erin’s curse be upon them!” exclaimed my man of medicine. “The devil has them by this time,” said the purser. “What a set of impious scoundrels,” ejaculated the midshipman. “I am afraid,” added I, “France has in a great measure brought all her misfortunes on herself. If the King and the nobles had stood firm to their guns and given a more liberal constitution, millions of lives might have been saved, and we should not have had the supreme happiness of being attended by the gendarmes or of taking up our abode in their filthy, loathsome gaols, besides a thousand other circumstances, of which, as you have been partakers, I need not mention, as they are too agreeable to bear in memory.” We reached a small place called Cateau Cambresis, where we dined at a fourth-rate inn, formerly the country palace of the good Archbishop Fénélon. At dinner, which, like the auberge, was also of the fourth class, I had a silver fork with the armorial bearings of an archbishop. I remarked the fact to my ma?tre d’h?tel, [pg 314]the doctor. “I have a spoon with the same,” replied he. “This, you are aware, was Fénélon’s favourite country palace, and as a quantity of family plate was buried during the Revolution, these very likely belonged to him.” When the woman who attended us at dinner came in again, the doctor interrogated her respecting them. She informed him they had been found among some old rubbish in the yard. I asked her if she would sell them; she answered in the affirmative, and demanded thirty francs. I gave her twenty-four, and took possession of my prizes.

In a remote part of the building I found some Englishmen at work manufacturing what the French were then little acquainted with, dimity. They told me they had permission to sleep out of the prison, and that the French allowed them a franc a day and some wine. I asked them if they were working on their own account; they answered, no, but on that of the French Government. “Bonaparte has his wits about him,” said I to myself, “and appears wide awake.”

We reached Verdun on the sixth day. I waited on Captain Otter of the navy and the senior officer, who introduced me to the commandant, the Baron de Beauchêne, who, by his rubicund face, appeared to be fond of good living. My name was registered at the police office, where I was desired to sport my graceful figure the first day of every month. Several officers did me the honour of a visit, but as my news was like salted cod—rather stale—they [pg 315]were not much edified. The day following I dined with Captain and Mrs. Otter, who were good, kind of homespun people. I met at their table the worthy chaplain, Gordon. Some of his friends said he was too mundane, and bowed to the pleasures of the world most unclerically. I found him an agreeable, gentlemanly person in society, and a plain-sailing parson in the pulpit. There were two officers here who were most amusing, Captains Miller and Lyall, and when dining with them, which I frequently did, I do not know which I enjoyed most, their dinner or their dry jokes. I also became acquainted with Captain Blennerhassett, and sometimes took a cold dinner at a small house he rented on the banks of the Meuse. We dubbed it Frogmore Hall, in consequence of a vast quantity of those creatures infesting it. Lord Blaney, who once wrote a book, principally on the best mode of cooking, figured away here. He was a good-natured but not a very wise man. He could not bear the midshipmen, because, he said, they cheated him out of his best cigars and made him give them a dinner when he did not ............