THE PRISONS ASHORE
2. NORMAN CROSS
It is just as hard for the visitor to-day to the site of Norman Cross,
to realize that here stood, until almost within living memory, a huge
war-prison, as it is at Sissinghurst. Whether one approaches it from
Peterborough, six miles away, through the semi-rural village of Yaxley,
by which name the prison was often called, or by the Great North Road
from Stilton—famous for the sale, not the manufacture, of the famous
cheese, and for the wreck of one of the stateliest coaching inns of
England, the _Bell_—we see but a large, ordinary-looking meadow, dotted
with trees, with three or four houses on its borders, and except for its
size, which is nearly forty acres, differing in no way from the fields
around.
An examination of the space, however, under the guidance of Dr. Walker,
does reveal remains. We can trace the great ditch which passed round the
prison inside the outer wall; some of the twenty-one wells which were
sunk still remain, and about thirty feet of the original red brick wall,
built in the old ‘English bond’ style, is still above ground. As, with
the exceptions presently to be noted, the prisons proper, with the
offices pertaining thereto, were built entirely of wood, and were sold
and removed when the prison ceased to be, nothing of it remains here,
although some of the buildings were re-erected in Peterborough and the
neighbouring villages, and may still be seen. The only war-time
buildings remaining are the Prison Superintendent’s house, now occupied
by Alderman Herbert, and the agent’s house, now belonging to Mr. Franey,
both, of course, much altered and beautified, and one which has been
variously described to me as the officers’ quarters and the Barrack
Master’s residence. In the Musée Historique Militaire at the Invalides,
in Paris, there is a most minutely and beautifully executed model of the
Norman Cross Prison, the work of one Foulley, who was a prisoner here
for five years and three months. Not only are the buildings, wells,
palisades, pumps, troughs, and other details represented, but tiny
models of prisoners at work and at play are dotted about, and in front
of the chief, the eastern gate, a battalion of Militia is drawn up,
complete to the smallest particulars of arms and equipment.
Not the least interesting relic of the prison days is the prisoners’
burial-ground at the lower end of a field sloping down from the west
side of the Great North Road.
On July 28 of the present year (1914) a memorial to the prisoners of war
who died at Norman Cross was unveiled by Lord Weardale. The idea
originated with Dr. T. J. Walker and Mr. W. H. Sands, and was developed
by the Entente Cordiale Society. The memorial is in the form of a stone
pillar, surmounted by an eagle with outstretched wings, standing upon a
square pedestal approached by steps, the lowermost of which is shaped
like the palisading of the old prison, and faces the Great North Road,
the burial ground being at the bottom of the field behind it. Upon the
monument is inscribed:
‘In Memoriam. This column was erected A.D. 1914 to the memory of 1,770
soldiers and sailors, natives or allies of France, taken prisoners of
war during the Republican and Napoleonic wars with Great Britain, A.D.
1793–1814, who died in the military dépôt at Norman Cross, which
formerly stood near this spot, 1797–1814.
Dulce et decorum est pro patriâ mori.
Erected by
The Entente Cordiale Society and friends on the initiative of the late
W. H. Sands, Esq., Honorary Secretary of the Society.’
One might expect to find at Yaxley Church, as in so many other places in
England associated with the sojourn of war prisoners, epitaphs or
registry entries of officers who died on parole, but there are none. All
that Yaxley preserves of its old connexion with the war prison are the
stone caps of the prison east gate piers, which now surmount the piers
of the west churchyard entrance, and the tablet in the church to the
memory of Captain Draper, R.N., an agent of the prison, which is thus
lettered:
‘Inscribed at the desire and the sole Expence of the French Prisoners of
War at Norman Cross, to the memory of Captain John Draper, R.N., who for
the last 18 months of his life was Agent to the Depôt; in testimony of
their esteem and gratitude for his humane attention to their comforts
during that too short period. He died February 23rd, 1813, aged 53
years.’
[Illustration:
MEMORIAL TO FRENCH PRISONERS OF WAR WHO DIED AT NORMAN CROSS
Unveiled July 28, 1914
]
The Rev. Arthur Brown, in his little book _The French Prisoners of
Norman Cross_, says that the prisoners asked to be represented at his
funeral, and that their petition concluded with the assurance that,
_mauvais sujets_ as some of them were, not one would take advantage of
the liberty accorded them to attempt to escape. It is gratifying to know
that their request was granted. Other relics of the prisoners, in the
shape of articles made by them for sale with the rudest of tools and the
commonest of materials, are tolerably abundant, although the choicest
are to be seen in museums and private collections, notably those in the
Peterborough Museum and in the possession of Mr. Dack, the curator.
Probably no more varied and beautiful specimens of French prisoner work
in wood, bone, straw, and grass, than these just mentioned, are to be
found in Britain.
The market at which these articles were sold was held daily from 10 a.m.
till noon, according to some accounts, twice a week according to others.
It was important enough, it is said, to have dwarfed that at
Peterborough: as much as £200 was known to have been taken during a
week, and at one time the concourse of strangers at it was so great that
an order was issued that in future nobody was to be admitted unless
accompanied by a commissioned officer. Visitors were searched, and
severe penalties were imposed upon any one dealing in Government stores,
a Yaxley tradesman in whose possession were found palliasses and other
articles marked with the broad arrow being fined heavily, condemned to
stand in the pillory at Norman Cross, and imprisoned for two years.
In the year 1796 it became absolutely necessary that special
accommodation should be provided for the ever-increasing number of
prisoners of war brought to Britain. The hulks were full to congestion,
the other regular prisons,—such as they were,—the improvised prisons,
and the hired houses, were crowded; disease was rife among the captives
on account of the impossibility of maintaining proper sanitation, and
the spirit of revolt was showing itself among men just then in the full
flush of the influences of the French Revolution. Norman Cross was
selected as the site of a prison which should hold 7,000 men, and it was
well chosen, being a tract of land forty acres in extent, healthily
situated on high ground, connected with the sea by water-ways via Lynn
and Peterborough; and with London, seventy-eight miles distant, by the
Great North Road. Time pressed; buildings of stone or brick were not to
be thought of, so it was planned that all should be of wood, surrounded
by a brick wall, but this last was not completed for some time after the
opening of the prison. The skeletons of the prison blocks were framed
and shaped in London, sent down, and in four months, that is to say in
March 1797, the labour of 500 carpenters, working Sundays and week-days,
rendered some of the blocks ready for habitation.
The first agent appointed was Mr. Delafons, but he only acted for a few
days previous to the arrival of Mr. James Perrot from Portchester, on
April 1, 1797. The superintendent of the transport of the prisoners was
Captain Daniel Woodriff, R.N.
On March 23, 1797, Woodriff received notice and instructions about the
first arrival of prisoners. On March 26 they came—934 in number—in
barges from Lynn to Yaxley, at the rate of 1_s._ 10_d._ per man, and
victualling at 7_d._ per man per day, the sustenance being one pound of
bread or biscuit, and three quarters of a pound of beef.
The arrivals came in fast, so that between April 7 and May 18, 1797,
3,383 prisoners (exclusive of seven dead and three who escaped), passed
under the care of the ten turnkeys and the eighty men of the Caithness
Legion who guarded Norman Cross.
[Illustration:
1. Officers’ Barracks.
2. Field Officers’ Barracks.
3. Barrack Master’s House.
4. Soldiers’ Barracks.
5. Non-Commissioned Officers.
6. Military Hospital.
7. Magazines.
8. Engine-house.
9. Guard Rooms.
10. Soldiers’ Cooking-houses,
11. Canteens.
12. Military Straw Barn.
13. Officers’ Privies.
14. Soldiers’ Privies.
15. Shed for spare soil carts.
16. Block House.
17. Agent and Superintendent’s House.
18. Prisoners’ Straw Barn.
19. Dead House.
20. Prisoners’ Hospitals.
21. Barracks for Prisoners of War.
22. Apartments for Clerks and Assistant Surgeons.
23. Agent’s Office.
24. Store House.
25. Prisoners’ Cooking-houses.
26. Turnkeys’ Lodges.
27. Prisoners’ Black Hole.
28. Wash-house to Prisoners’ Hospital.
29. Building for Medical Stores.
30. Prisoners’ Privies.
31. Coal Yards.
32. Privies.
33. Ash Pits.
Wells marked thus o.
A. Airing Grounds.
B. Lord Carysfort’s Grounds.
NORMAN CROSS PRISON. (_Hill’s Plan_, 1797–1803.)
]
Complaints and troubles soon came to light. A prisoner in 1797, ‘who
appeared above the common class of men’, complained that the bread and
beef were so bad that they were not fit for a prisoner’s dog to eat,
that the British Government was not acquainted with the treatment of the
prisoners, and that this was the agent’s fault for not keeping a
sufficiently strict eye upon his subordinates. This was confirmed, not
only by inquiry among the prisoners, but by the evidence of the petty
officers and soldiers of the garrison, who said ‘as fellow creatures
they must allow that the provisions given to the prisoners were not fit
for them to eat, and that the water they had was much better than the
beer’. In spite of this evidence, the samples sent up by the request of
the ‘Sick and Hurt’ Office in reply to this complaint, were pronounced
good.
In July 1797 the civil officials at Norman Cross complained of
annoyances, interferences, and insults from the military. Major-General
Bowyer, in command, in his reply stated: ‘I cannot conceive the civil
officers have a right to take prisoners out of their prisons to the
canteens and other places, which this day has been mentioned to me.’
By July 18 such parts of the prison as were completed were very full,
and in November the buildings were finished, and the sixteen blocks,
each holding 400 prisoners, were crowded. The packing of the hammocks in
these blocks was close, but not closer than in the men-of-war of the
period, and not very much closer than in the machinery-crowded big ships
of to-day. The blocks, or _casernes_ as they were called, measured 100
feet long by twenty-four feet broad, and were two stories high. On the
ground floor the hammocks were slung from posts three abreast, and there
were three tiers. In the upper story were only two tiers. As to the life
at Norman Cross, it appears to me from the documentary evidence
available to have been more tolerable than at any of the other great
prisons, if only from the fact that the place had been specially built
for its purpose, and was not, as in most other places, adapted. The food
allowance was the same as elsewhere; viz., on five days of the week each
prisoner had one and a half pounds of bread, half a pound of beef,
greens or pease or oatmeal, and salt. On Wednesday and Friday one pound
of herrings or cod-fish was substituted for the beef, and beer could be
bought at the canteen. The description by George Borrow in
_Lavengro_—‘rations of carrion meat and bread from which I have seen the
very hounds occasionally turn away’, is now generally admitted to be as
inaccurate as his other remarks concerning the Norman Cross which he
could only remember as a very small boy.
The outfit was the same as in other prisons, but I note that in the year
1797 the store-keeper at Norman Cross was instructed to supply each
prisoner _as often as was necessary_, and not, as elsewhere, at stated
intervals, with one jacket, one pair of trousers, two pairs of
stockings, two shirts, one pair of shoes, one cap, and one hammock. By
the way, the prisoners’ shoes are ordered ‘not to have long straps for
buckles, but short ears for strings’.
On August 8, 1798, Perrot writes from Stilton to Woodriff:
‘If you remember, on returning from the barracks on Sunday, Captain
Llewellin informed us that a report had been propagated that seven
prisoners intended to escape that day, which we both looked upon as a
mere report; they were counted both that night, but with little effect
from the additions made to their numbers by the men you brought from
Lynn, and yesterday morning and afternoon, but in such confusion from
the prisoners refusing to answer, from others giving in fictitious
names, and others answering for two or three. In consequence of all
these irregularities I made all my clerks, a turnkey, and a file of
soldiers, go into the south east quadrangle this morning at five
o’clock, and muster each prison separately, and found that six prisoners
from the Officers’ Prison have escaped, but can obtain none of their
names except Captain Dorfe, who some time ago applied to me for to
obtain liberty for him to reside with his family at Ipswich where he had
married an English wife. The officers remaining have separately and
conjunctively refused to give the names of the other five, for which I
have ordered the whole to be put on half allowance to-morrow. After the
most diligent search we could only find one probable place where they
had escaped, by the end next the South Gate, by breaking one of the
rails of the picket, but how they passed afterwards is a mystery still
unravelled.’
During the years 1797–8 there were many Dutch prisoners here, chiefly
taken at Camperdown.
William Prickard, of the Leicester Militia, was condemned to receive 500
lashes for talking of escape with a prisoner.
On February 21, 1798, Mr. James Stewart of Peterborough thus wrote to
Captain Woodriff:
‘I have received a heavy complaint from the prisoners of war of being
beat and otherwise ill-treated by the officials at the Prison. I can
have no doubt but that they exaggerate these complaints, for what they
describe as a dungeon I have examined myself and find it to be a proper
place to confine unruly prisoners in, being above ground, and appears
perfectly dry. How far you are authorized to chastise the prisoners of
war I cannot take upon me to determine, but I presume to think it should
be done sparingly and with temper. I was in hopes the new system
adopted, with the additional allowance of provisions would have made the
prisoners more easy and contented under their confinement, but it would
appear it caused more turbulence and uneasiness.... That liquor is
conveyed to the prisoners I have no doubt, you know some of the turnkeys
have been suspected.’
Two turnkeys were shortly afterwards dismissed for having conveyed large
quantities of ale into the prison.
Rendered necessary by complaints from the neighbourhood, the following
order was issued by the London authorities in 1798.
‘Obscene figures and indecent toys and all such indecent representations
tending to disseminate Lewdness and Immorality exposed for sale or
prepared for that purpose are to be instantly destroyed.’
Constant escapes made the separation of officers from men and the
suspension of all intercourse between them to be strictly enforced.
Perrot died towards the end of 1798, and Woodriff was made agent in
January 1799. Soon after Woodriff’s assuming office the Mayor of Lynn
complained of the number of prisoners at large in the town, and
unguarded, waiting with Norman Cross passports for cartel ships to take
them to France. To appreciate this complaint we must remember that the
rank and file, and not a few of the officers, of the French
Revolutionary Army and Navy, who were prisoners of war in Britain, were
of the lowest classes of society, desperate, lawless, religionless,
unprincipled men who in confinement were a constant source of anxiety
and watchfulness, and at large were positively dangers to society. If a
body of men like this got loose, as did fifteen on the night of April 5,
1799, from Norman Cross, the fact was enough to carry terror throughout
a countryside.
Yet there was a request made this year from the Norman Cross prisoners
that they might have priests sent to them. At first the order was that
none should be admitted except to men dangerously ill, but later, Ruello
and Vexier were permitted to reside in Number 8 Caserne, under the rule
‘that your officers do strictly watch over their communication and
conduct, lest, under pretence of religion, any stratagems or devices be
carried out to the public prejudice by people of whose disposition to
abuse indulgence there have already existed but too many examples’.
That Captain Woodriff’s position was rendered one of grave anxiety and
responsibility by the bad character of many of the prisoners under his
charge is very clear from the continual tenor of the correspondence
between him and the Transport Board. The old punishment of simple
confinement in the Black Hole being apparently quite useless, it was
ordered that offenders sentenced to the Black Hole should be put on half
rations, and also lose their turn of exchange. This last was the
punishment most dreaded by the majority of the prisoners, although there
was a regular market for these turns of exchange, varying from £40
upwards, which would seem to show that to many a poor fellow, life at
Norman Cross with some capital to gamble with was preferable to a return
to France in exchange for a British prisoner of similar grade, only to
be pressed on board a man-of-war of the period, or to become a unit of
the hundreds and thousands of soldiers sent here and there to be maimed
or slaughtered in a cause of which they knew little and cared less.
It is worthy of note that these increased punishments were made law with
the concurrence, if not at the suggestion, of the French Agent, Niou,
who remarked with respect to the system of buying and selling turns of
exchange, ‘. . . une conduite aussi lâche devant être arrêtée par tous
les moyens possibles. Je viens en conséquence de mettre les Vendéens (I
am inclined to regard ‘Vendéens’ as a mistake for ‘vendants’) à la queue
des échanges.’
The year 1799 seems to have been a disturbed one at Norman Cross. In
August the prisoners showed their resentment at having detailed personal
descriptions of them taken, by disorderly meetings, the result being
that all trafficking between them was stopped, and the daily market at
the prison-gate suspended.
Stockdale, the Lynn manager of the prison traffic between the coast and
Norman Cross, writes on one occasion that of 125 prisoners who had been
started for the prison, ‘there were two made their escape, and one shot
on their march to Lynn, and I am afraid we lost two or three last
night ... there are some very artful men among them who will make their
escape if possible’.
Attempts to escape during the last stages of the journey from the coast
to the prison were frequent. On February 4, 1808, the crews of two
privateers, under an escort of the 77th Regiment, were lodged for the
night in the stable of the _Angel Inn_ at Peterborough. One Simon tried
to escape. The sentry challenged and fired. Simon was killed, and the
coroner’s jury brought in the verdict of ‘Justifiable homicide’.
On another occasion a column of prisoners was crossing the Nene Bridge
at Peterborough, when one of them broke from the ranks, and sprang into
the river. He was shot as he rose to the surface.
On account of the proximity of Norman Cross to a countryside of which
one of the staple industries was the straw manufacture, the prevention
of the smuggling of straw into the prison for the purpose of being made
into bonnets, baskets, plaits, &c., constantly occupied the attention of
the authorities. In 1799 the following circular was sent by the
Transport Board to all prisons and dépôts in the kingdom:
‘Being informed that the Revenues and Manufactures of this country are
considerably injured by the extensive sale of Straw Hats made by the
Prisoners of War in this country, we do hereby require and direct you to
permit no Hat, Cap, or Bonnet manufactured by any of the Prisoners of
War in your custody, to be sold or sent out of the Prison in future,
under any pretence whatever, and to seize and destroy all such articles
as may be detected in violation of this order.’
This traffic, however, was continued, for in 1807 the Transport Board,
in reply to a complaint by a Mr. John Poynder to Lord Liverpool,
‘requests the magistrates to help in stopping the traffic with prisoners
of war in prohibited articles, straw hats and straw plait especially, as
it has been the means of selling obscene toys, pictures, &c., to the
great injury of the morals of the rising generation’.
To continue the prison record in order of dates: in 1801 the Transport
Board wrote to Otto, Commissioner in England of the French Republic,
‘SIR:
‘Having directed Capt. Woodriff, Superintendant at Norman Cross Prison,
to report to us on the subject of some complaints made by the prisoners
at that place, he has informed me of a most pernicious habit among the
prisoners which he has used every possible means to prevent, but without
success. Some of the men, whom he states to have been long confined
without receiving any supplies from their friends, have only the prison
allowance to subsist on, and this allowance he considers sufficient to
nourish and keep in health if they received it daily, but he states this
is not the case, although the full ration is regularly issued by the
Steward to each mess of 12 men. There are in these prisons, he observes,
some men—if they deserve that name—who possess money with which they
purchase of some unfortunate and unthinking fellow-prisoner his ration
of bread for several days together, and frequently _both bread and beef
for a month_, which he, the merchant, seizes upon daily and sells it out
again to some other unfortunate being on the same usurious terms,
allowing the former _one half-penny worth of potatoes daily_ to keep him
alive. Not contented with this more than savage barbarity, he purchases
next his clothes and bedding, and sees the miserable man lie naked on
his plank unless he will consent to allow him one half-penny a night to
lie in his own hammock, which he makes him pay by a further deprivation
of his ration when his original debt is paid.... In consequence of this
representation we have directed Capt. Woodriff to keep a list of every
man of this description of merchants above mentioned in order they may
be put at the bottom of the list of exchange.’
In this year a terrible epidemic carried off nearly 1,000 prisoners. The
Transport Board’s Surveyor was sent down, and he reported that the
general condition of the prison was very bad, especially as regarded
sanitation. The buildings were merely of fir-quartering, and
weather-boarded on the outside, and without lining inside, the result
being that the whole of the timbering was a network of holes bored by
the prisoners in order to get light inside. In the twelve solitary cells
of the Black Hole there was no convenience whatever. The wells were only
in tolerable condition. The ventilation of the French officers’ rooms
was very bad. The hospital was better than other parts of the prison.
The report notes that the carpenters, sawyers, and masons were
prisoners, a fact at once constituting an element of uncertainty, if not
of danger. In December 1801 Woodriff found it necessary to post up an
order about shamming ill in order to be changed to better quarters:
‘Ayant connaissance que nombre de prisonniers français recherchent
journellement les moyens de se donner l’air aussi misérable que possible
dans le dessein d’être envoyés à l’Hôpital ou au No. 13 par le
chirurgien de visite, et que s’ils sont reçus, soit pour l’un ou
l’autre, ils vendent de suite leurs effets (s’ils ne l’ont déjà fait
pour se faire recevoir) le Gouvernement done [_sic_] avis de nouveau
qu’aucun prisonnier ne sera reçu pour l’Hôpital ou pour le No. 13 s’il
ne produit ses effets de Literie et les Hardes qu’il peut avoir reçu
dernièrement.’
Generals Rochambeau and Boyer were paroled prisoners who seem to have
studied how to give the authorities as much trouble and annoyance as
possible. The Transport Board, weary of granting them indulgences which
they abused, and of making them offers which they contemptuously
rejected, clapped them into Norman Cross in September 1804. They were
placed in the wards of the military hospital, a sentinel at their doors,
and no communication allowed between them, or their servants, and the
rest of the prisoners. They were not allowed newspapers, no special
allowance was made them of coals, candles, and wood, they were not
permitted to go beyond the hospital airing ground, and Captain
Pressland, the then agent of the prison, was warned to be strictly on
his guard, and to watch them closely, despite his favourable remarks
upon their deportment. It was at about this time that the alarm was
widespread that the prisoners of war in Britain were to co-operate with
an invasion by their countrymen from without. General Boyer, at Tiverton
in 1803, ‘whilst attentive to the ladies, did not omit to curse, even to
_them_, his fate in being deprived of his arms, and without hope of
being useful to his countrymen when they arrive in England’. Rochambeau
at Norman Cross was even more ridiculous, for when he heard that
Bonaparte’s invasion was actually about to come off, he appeared for two
days in the airing ground in full uniform, booted and spurred. Later
news sent him into retirement.
Extracts from contemporary newspapers show that the alarm was very
general. Said _The Times_:
‘The French prisoners on the prospect of an invasion of this country
begin to assume their Republican _fierté_; they tell their guards—“It is
your turn to guard us now, but before the winter is over it will be our
turn to guard you.”
‘The prisoners already in our hands, and those who may be added, will
occasion infinite perplexity. The known licentiousness of their
principles, the utter contempt of all laws of honour which is so
generally prevalent among the French Republicans, and the audacity of
exertions which may arise from a desire of co-operating with an invading
force, may render them extremely dangerous, especially if left in the
country, where the thinness of the population prevents perpetual
inspection and where alarm flies so rapidly as to double any mischief.’
A suggestion was made that the prisoners should be concentrated in the
prisons of London and neighbourhood, and some newspapers even echoed
Robespierre’s truculent advice: ‘Make no prisoners.’
In 1804, in reply to another application that priests might reside
within the prison boundaries, the authorities said:
‘As to the French priests and the procurement of lodgings at Stilton, we
have nothing to do with them, but with respect to the proposal of their
inhabitation in our Dépôts, we cannot possibly allow of such a measure
at this critical time to _Foreigners of that equivocal description_.’
The ever-recurring question as to the exact lines of demarcation to be
drawn between the two chief men of the prison, the Agent and the
Commander of the garrison, occupies a great deal of Departmental
literature. We have given one specimen already, and in 1804 Captain
Pressland was thus addressed by his masters in London:
‘As the interior regulation and management of the Prison is entirely
under your direction, we do not see any necessity for returns being made
daily to the C.O. of the Guard, and we approve of your reason for
declining to make such returns; but as, on the other hand, the C.O. is
answerable for the security of the Prison, it is not proper that you
should interfere in that respect any further than merely to suggest what
may appear to you to be necessary or proper to be done.’
In the same year a serious charge was brought against Captain Pressland
by the prisoners, that he was in the habit of deducting two and a half
per cent from all sums passing through his hands for payment to the
prisoners. He admitted having done so, and got off with a rebuke. It may
be mentioned here that the pay of a prison agent was thirty shillings
per diem, the same as that of a junior post captain on sea fencible
service—quarters, but no allowances except £10 10_s._ per annum for
stationery. In 1805 the boys’ building was put up. At first the
suggested site was on the old burial ground; but as it was urged that
such a proceeding might produce much popular clamour, as well as ‘other
disagreeable consequences’, it was put outside the outer stockade, north
of the Hospital. It is said that the boys were here brought up as
musicians by the Bishop of Moulins.
At this time escapes seem to have been very frequent, and this in spite
of the frequent changing of the garrison, and the rule that no soldier
knowing French should be on guard duty. All implements and edged tools
were taken from the prisoners, only one knife being allowed, which was
to be returned every night, locked up in a box, and placed in the
Guard-room until the next morning, and failure to give up knives meant
the Black Hole. Any prisoner attempting to escape was to be executed
immediately, but I find no record of this drastic sentence being carried
into effect.
From _The Times_ of October 15, 1804, I take the following:
‘An alarming spirit of insubordination was on Wednesday evinced by the
French prisoners, about 3,000, at Norman Cross. An incessant uproar was
kept up all the morning, and at noon their intention to attempt the
destruction of the barrier of the prison became so obvious that the C.O.
at the Barrack, apprehensive that the force under his command,
consisting only of the Shropshire Militia and one battalion of the Army
of reserve, would not be sufficient in case of necessity to environ and
restrain so large a body of prisoners, dispatched a messenger requiring
the assistance of the Volunteer force at Peterborough. Fortunately the
Yeomanry had had a field day, and one of the troops was undismissed when
the messenger arrived. The troops immediately galloped into the
Barracks. In the evening a tumult still continuing among the prisoners,
and some of them taking advantage of the extreme darkness to attempt to
escape, further reinforcements were sent for and continued on duty all
night. The prisoners, having cut down a portion of the wood enclosure
during the night, nine of them escaped through the aperture. In another
part of the prison, as soon as daylight broke, it was found that they
had undermined a distance of 34 feet towards the Great South Road, under
the fosse which surrounds the prison, although it is 4 feet deep, and it
is not discovered they had any tools. Five of the prisoners have been
re-taken.’
A little later in the year, on a dark, stormy Saturday night, seven
prisoners escaped through a hole they had cut in the wooden wall, and
were away all Sunday. At 8 p.m. on that day, a sergeant and a corporal
of the Durham Militia, on their way north on furlough, heard men talking
a ‘foreign lingo’ near Whitewater toll-bar. Suspecting them to be
escaped prisoners, they attacked and secured two of them, but five got
off. On Monday two of these were caught near Ryall toll-bar in a state
of semi-starvation, having hidden in Uffington Thicket for twenty-four
hours; the other three escaped.
One of the most difficult tasks which faced the agents of prisons in
general, and of Norman Cross in particular, was the checking of
contraband traffic between the prisoners and outsiders. At Norman Cross,
as I have said, the chief illicit trade was in straw-plaiting work.
Strange to say, although the interests of the poor country people were
severely injured by this trade, the wealth and influence of the chief
dealers were so great that it was difficult to get juries to convict,
and when they did convict, to get judges to pass deterrent sentences. In
1807, for instance, legal opinion was actually given that a publican
could not have his licence refused because he had carried on the
straw-plait traffic with the prisoners, although it was an open secret
that the innkeepers of Stilton, Wansford, Whittlesea, Peterborough, and
even the landlord of the inn which in those days stood opposite where
now is the present Norman Cross Hotel, were deeply engaged in it.
In 1808, ‘from motives of humanity’, the prisoners at Norman Cross were
allowed to make baskets, boxes, ornaments, &c., of straw, if the
straw-plaiting traffic could be effectually prevented. The manufacture
of these articles, which were often works of the most refined beauty and
delicacy, of course did not harm the poor, rough straw-plaiters of
Bedfordshire and Northamptonshire; but the radius of its sale was
limited, the straw-plaiting meant quick and good returns, and the
difficulty to be faced by the authorities was to ensure the rightful use
of the straw introduced. In 1808 there were many courts-martial upon
soldiers of the garrison for being implicated in this traffic, and in
each case the soldier was severely flogged and the straw bonnet ordered
to be burned. It was no doubt one of these episodes which so aroused
George Borrows ire.[4] The guard of the coach from Lincoln to Stilton
was put under observation by order of the Transport Office, being
suspected of assisting people to carry the straw plait made in the
prison to Baldock to be made into bonnets.
In 1809 Pressland writes thus seriously to the Transport Office:
‘That every step that could possibly be taken by General Williams
[Commander of the Garrison] and myself to prevent this illicit Traffic
[has been taken], the Board will, I trust, readily admit, and I am well
convinced that without the prosecution of those dealers who are
particularized in the documents forwarded by the Lincoln coach this
evening, it will ever continue, to the great injury of the country in
general; for already eight or nine soldiers have deserted from a dread
of punishment, having been detected by those whom they knew would inform
against them, and I shall leave the Board to judge how far the
discipline of the Regiments has been hurt, and the Soldiers seduced from
their duty by the bribes they are constantly receiving from Barnes,
Lunn, and Browne. It now becomes a serious and alarming case, for if
these persons can with so much facility convey into the Prison sacks of
5 and 6 feet in length, they might convey weapons of every description
to annoy those whose charge they are under, to the great detriment of
H.M.’s service, and the lives of His subjects most probably.’
[Illustration:
COLOURED STRAW WORK-BOX
Made by French prisoners of war
]
A large bundle of documents contains the trial of Barnes, Lunn, Browne,
and others, for, in conjunction with bribed soldiers of the garrison,
taking straw into the prison and receiving the plaited article in
exchange. The evidence of soldiers of the guard showed that James,
ostler at the _Bell_, Stilton, had been seen many times at midnight
throwing sacks of straw over the palisades, and receiving straw plait in
return, and also bonnets, and that he was always assisted by soldiers.
Barnes had said that he would get straw into the prison in spite of
General Williams or anybody else, as he had bought five fields of wheat
for the purpose. He was acting for his brother, a Baldock straw-dealer.
The trial came off at Huntingdon on March 20, 1811, the result being
that Lunn got twelve months, and the others six months each. It may be
noted here that so profitable for dealers was this contraband trade in
war-prison manufactured straw articles, that a Bedfordshire man, Matthew
Wingrave, found it to be worth his while to buy up wheat and barley land
in the neighbourhood of the great Scottish dépôt at Valleyfield, near
Penicuik, and carry on business there.
As an instance of the resentment aroused by this judgement among those
interested in the illicit trade, a Sergeant Ives of the West Essex
Militia, who had been especially active in the suppression of the
straw-plait business, was, according to the _Taunton Courier_, stopped
between Stilton and Norman Cross by a number of fellows, who, after
knocking him down and robbing him of his watch and money, forced open
his jaws with savage ferocity and cut off a piece of his tongue.
In November 1807 a brick wall was built round Norman Cross prison; the
outer palisade which it replaced being used to repair the inner.
In 1809 Flaigneau, a prisoner, was tried at Huntingdon for murdering a
turnkey. The trial lasted six hours, but in spite of the instructions of
the judge, the jury brought him in _Not Guilty_.
Forgery and murder brought the prisoners under the Civil Law. Thus in
1805 Nicholas Deschamps and Jean Roubillard were tried at Huntingdon
Summer Assizes for forging £1 bank notes, which they had done most
skilfully. They were sentenced to death, but were respited during His
Majesty’s pleasure, and remained in Huntingdon gaol for nine years,
until they were pardoned and sent back to France in 1814.
From the _Stamford Mercury_ of September 16, 1808, I take the following:
‘Early on Friday morning last Charles François Maria Boucher, a French
officer, a prisoner of war in this country, was conveyed from the County
Gaol at Huntingdon to Yaxley Barracks where he was hanged, agreeable to
his sentence at the last assizes, for stabbing with a knife, with intent
to kill Alexander Halliday, in order to effect his escape from that
prison. The whole garrison was under arms and all the prisoners in the
different apartments were made witnesses of the impressive scene.’
I shall deal later in detail with the subject of prisoners on parole, so
that it suffices here to say that every care was taken to avoid the just
reproach of the earlier years of the great wars that officer prisoners
of war in England were promiscuously herded on hulks and in prisons with
the rank and file, and it was an important part of Prison Agent’s duties
to examine each fresh arrival of prisoners with a view to selecting
those of character and the required rank qualifying them for the
privileges of being allowed on parole in certain towns and villages set
apart for the purpose.
In 1796 about 100 Norman Cross prisoners were out on parole in
Peterborough and the neighbourhood. The _Wheatsheaf_ at Stibbington was
a favourite house of call with the parole prisoners, says the Rev. A.
Brown in the before-quoted book, and this, when afterwards a farmhouse,
belonged to an old man, born before the close of the war, who told Dr.
Walker that as a child he had often seen the prisoners regale themselves
here with the excellent cooking of his grandmother, the milestone which
was their limit from Wansford, where they lodged, being just outside the
house.
The parole officers seem to have been generally received with kindness
and hospitality by the neighbouring gentry, and a few marriages with
English girls are recorded, although when it became known that such
unions were not recognized as binding by the French Government, and that
even the English wives of Frenchmen were sent back from Morlaix, the
cartel port, the English girls became more careful. Some of the gentry,
indeed, seem to have interested themselves too deeply in the exiles, and
in 1801 the Transport Office requests the attention of its Agent ‘to the
practices of a person of some property near Peterborough, similar to
those for which Askew was convicted at the Huntingdon Assizes’—which was
for aiding prisoners to escape.
By the Treaty of Paris, May 30, 1814, Peace was declared between France
and Britain, and in the same month 4,617 French prisoners at Norman
Cross were sent home via Peterborough and Lynn unguarded, but the prison
was not finally evacuated until August. It was never again used as a
prison, but was pulled down and sold.
We have already become acquainted with General Pillet as a rabid
chronicler of life on the Chatham hulks; we shall meet him again out on
parole, and now let us hear what he has to say about Norman Cross in his
book on England.
‘I have seen at Norman Cross a plot of land where nearly four thousand
men, out of seven thousand in this prison, were buried. Provisions were
then dear in England, and our Government, it was said, had refused to
pay the balance of an account due for prisoners. To settle this account
all the prisoners were put on half-rations, and to make sure that they
should die, the introduction of food for sale, according to custom, was
forbidden. To reduced quantity was added inferior quality of the
provisions served out. There was distributed four times a week,
worm-eaten biscuit, fish and salt meat; three times a week black, half
baked bread made of mouldy flour or of black wheat. Soon after eating
this one was seized with a sort of drunkenness, followed by violent
headache, diarrhoea, and redness of face; many died from a sort of
vertigo. For vegetables, uncooked beans were served up. In fact,
hundreds of men sank each day, starved to death, or poisoned by the
provisions. Those who did not die immediately, became so weak that
gradually they could digest nothing.’ (Then follow some details, too
disgusting to be given a place here, of the extremities to which
prisoners at Norman Cross were driven by hunger.) ‘Hunger knows no
rules. The corpses of those who died were kept for five or six days
without being given up by their comrades, who by this means received the
dead men’s rations.’
This veracious chronicler continues:
‘I myself took a complaint to Captain Pressland. Next day, the officers
of the two militia battalions on guard at the prison, and some
civilians, arrived just at the moment for the distribution of the
rations. At their head was Pressland who was damning the prisoners
loudly. The rations were shown, and, as the whole thing had been
rehearsed beforehand, they were good. A report was drawn up by which it
was shown that the prisoners were discontented rascals who grumbled at
everything, that the food was unexceptionable, and that some of the
grumblers deserved to be shot, for an example. Next day the food was
just as bad as ever.... Certainly the prisoners had the chance of buying
provisions for themselves from the wives of the soldiers of the garrison
twice a week. But these women, bribed to ruin the prisoners, rarely
brought what was required, made the prisoners take what they brought,
and charged exorbitant prices, and, as payment had to be made in
advance, they settled things just as they chose.’
With reference to the medical attendance at Norman Cross, Pillet says:
‘I have been witness and victim, as prisoner of war, of the false oath
taken by the doctors at Norman Cross. They were supplied with medicines,
flannel, cotton stuffs, &c., in proportion to the number of prisoners,
for compresses, bandages, and so forth. When the supply was exhausted,
the doctor, in order to get a fresh supply, drew up his account of
usage, and swore before a jury that this account was exact. The wife of
the doctor at Norman Cross, like that of the doctor of the _Crown
Prince_ at Chatham, wore no petticoats which were not made of cotton and
flannel taken from the prison stores. So with the medicines and drugs.
The contractor found the supply ample, and that there was no necessity
to replace it, so he shared with the doctor and the apothecary the cost
of what he had never delivered, although in the accounts it appeared
that he had renewed their supplies.’
With George Borrow’s description in _Lavengro_ of the brutalities
exercised upon the prisoners at Norman Cross by the soldiers of the
garrison, many readers will be familiar. As the recollection is of his
early boyhood, it may be valued accordingly.
In 1808 a tourist among the churches of this part of East Anglia remarks
upon the good appearance of the Norman Cross prisoners, particularly of
the boys—the drummers and the ‘mousses’. He adds that many of the
prisoners had learned English enough ‘to chatter and to cheat’, and that
some of them upon release took away with them from two to three hundred
pounds as the proceeds of the sale of their handiwork in drawings, wood,
bone and straw work, chessmen, draughts, backgammon boards, dice, and
groups in wood and bone of all descriptions.
[Illustration:
THE BLOCK HOUSE, NORMAN CROSS, 1809
_From a sketch by Captain George Lloyd_
]
In 1814 came Peace. The following extracts from contemporary newspapers
made by Mr. Charles Dack, Curator of the Peterborough Museum, refer to
the process of evacuation, Norman Cross Dépôt being also known as
Stilton or Yaxley Barracks.
‘11th April, 1814. The joy produced amongst the prisoners of war at
Norman Cross by the change of affairs in France (the abdication of
Bonaparte) is quite indescribable and extravagant. A large white flag is
set up in each of the quadrangles of the dépôt, under which the
thousands of poor fellows, who have been for years in confinement,
dance, sing, laugh, and cry for joy, with rapturous delight.
‘5th May, 1814. The prisoners at Stilton Barracks are so elated at the
idea of being so soon liberated, that they are all bent on selling their
stock, which they do rapidly at 50 per cent advanced prices. Many of
them have realized fortunes of from £500 to £1,000 each.
‘June 9th, Lynn. Upwards of 1,400 French prisoners of war have arrived
in this town during the last week from Stilton Barracks, to embark for
the coast of France. Dunkirk, we believe, is the place of their
destination. In consequence of the wind having been hitherto
unfavourable, they have been prevented from sailing, and we are glad to
state that their conduct in this town has hitherto been very orderly;
and although they are continually perambulating the street, and some of
them indulging in tolerable libations of ale, we have not heard of a
single act of indecorum taking place in consequence.’
To these notes the late Rev. G. N. Godwin, to whom I am indebted for
many details of life at Norman Cross, added in the columns of the
_Norwich Mercury_:
‘The garrison of the dépôt caught the infection of wild joy, and a party
of them seized the Glasgow mail coach on its arrival at Stilton, and
drew it to Norman Cross, whither the horses, coachman and guard were
obliged to follow. The prisoners were so elated at the prospect of being
liberated that they ceased to perform any work. Many of them had
realized fortunes of £500 to £1,000 each in Bank of England notes.’
The _Cambridge Chronicle_ gives a pleasant picture on May 6th: ‘About
200 prisoners from Norman Cross Barracks marched into this town on
Sunday last ... they walked about the town and ‘Varsity and conducted
themselves in an orderly manner.’
Although it was rumoured that the buildings at Norman Cross were to be
utilized, after the departure of the war prisoners, as a barrack for
artillery and cavalry, this did not come about. The buildings were sold
in lots; in Peterborough some of them were re-erected and still exist,
and a pair of slatted gates are now barn-doors at Alwalton Rectory Farm,
but the very memories of this great prison are fast dying out in this
age of the migration of the countryman.
On October 2, 1818, the sale of Norman Cross Barracks began, and lasted
nine days, the sum realized being about £10,000. A curious comment upon
the condition of the prison is presented by the fact that a house built
from some of it became known as ‘Bug Hall’, which has a parallel in the
case of Portchester Castle; some cottages built from the timber of the
_casernes_ there, when it ceased to be a war prison, being still known
as ‘Bug Row’.
In Shelley Row, Cambridge, is an ancient timbered barn which is known to
have been regularly used as a night-shelter for prisoners on their way
to Norman Cross.