THE PRISONS ASHORE
3. PERTH
The following particulars about the great Dépôt at Perth are largely
taken from Mr. W. Sievwright’s book, now out of print and obtainable
with difficulty.[5] Mr. P. Baxter of Perth, however, transcribed it for
me from the copy in the Perth Museum, and to him my best thanks are due.
The Dépôt at Perth was completed in 1812. It was constructed to hold
about 7,000 prisoners, and consisted of five three-story buildings, each
130 feet long and 30 feet broad, with outside stairs, each with a
separate iron palisaded airing-ground and all converging upon what was
known as the ‘Market Place’. Each of these blocks held 1,140 prisoners.
South of the great square was a building for petty officers,
accommodating 1,100, and north of it the hospital for 150 invalids. Both
of these latter buildings are still standing, having been incorporated
with the present General Prison. The sleeping quarters were very
crowded; so much so, says Sievwright, that the prisoners had to sleep
‘spoon fashion’, (as we have seen on the prison ships), the turning-over
process having to be done by whole ranks in obedience to words of
command; ‘Attention! Squad number so and so! Prepare to spoon! One! Two!
Spoon!’
Around the entire space was a deep moat, ten feet broad; beyond this an
iron palisade; beyond this a wall twelve feet six inches high, with a
sentry-walk round it. Three or four regiments of Militia were always
kept in Perth for guard duties, which occupied 300 men. Many acres of
potatoes were planted outside the prison. When peace was finally made,
and the prison was emptied, the owners of these profitable acres were in
despair, until one of them discovered the London market, and this has
been kept ever since.
The first prisoners came from Plymouth via Dundee in August 1812. They
had been lodged the first night in the church of Inchtore.[6] ‘During
the night’, says Penny in his _Traditions of Perth_, ‘the French
prisoners found means to extract the brass nails and purloin the green
cloth from the pulpit and seats in the Church, with every other thing
they could lay their hands on.’ Penny seems to have exaggerated. One
prisoner stole a couple of ‘mort cloths’. This so enraged his fellows
that they tried him by court martial, and sentenced him to twenty-four
lashes. He got seventeen there and then, but fainted, and the remainder
were given him later.
The prisoners were 400 in number, and had some women with them, and were
in tolerably good condition. A great many came in after Salamanca. They
had been marched through Fifeshire in very bad weather. ‘The poor
creatures, many of them half naked, were in a miserable plight; numbers
of them gave up upon the road, and were flung into carts, one above the
other, and when the carts were full, and capable of holding no more, the
others were tied to the backs with ropes and dragged along.’
Kirkcaldy on the Forth was the chief port for landing the prisoners;
from Kirkcaldy they were marched overland to Perth.
The first attempt at escape from the new Dépôt was made in September
1812, there being at this time about 4,000 prisoners there. A prisoner
slipped past the turnkey as the latter was opening a door in the iron
palisading, and got away. The alarm was given; the prisoner had got to
Friarton Toll, half a mile away, but being closely pursued was captured
in a wheat field.
One Petite in this year was a slippery customer. He got out of Perth but
was recaptured, and lodged at Montrose on the march back to gaol. Thence
he escaped by unscrewing the locks of three doors, but was again caught
at Ruthven print-field, and safely lodged in his old quarters in Perth
gaol. Shortly after he was ordered to be transferred to Valleyfield, and
a sergeant and eight men were considered necessary to escort him. They
got him safely as far as Kirkcaldy, where they halted, and M. Petite was
lodged for the night in the local prison; but when they came for him in
the morning, he was not to be found, and was never heard of again!
Here Sievwright introduces a story from Penny, of date previous to the
Dépôt.
‘On April 20th, 1811, it was reputed at the Perth Barracks that four
French prisoners had passed through Perth. A detachment of soldiers who
were sent in pursuit on the road to Dundee, found, not those they were
seeking, but four others, whom they conveyed to Perth and lodged in
gaol. On the morning of April 24th, they managed to effect their escape.
By cutting some planks out of the partition of their apartment, they
made their way to the Court Room, from the window of which they
descended to the street. On their table was found a letter expressing
their gratitude to the magistrates and inhabitants of Perth for the
civilities they had received, and promising a return of the kindness to
any Scotsman whom they might find among the British prisoners in
France.’
As a supplement to this, it is recorded that two of the original quarry
were afterwards captured, but were released unconditionally later on,
when one of them proved that he had humanely treated General Walker,
when the latter was lying seriously wounded at Badajos, saved him from
being dispatched by a furious grenadier, and had him removed to a
hospital. The General gave him his name and address, and promised to
help him should occasion arise.
In January 1813 three prisoners got off in a thick fog and made their
way as far as Broughty Ferry on the Forth. On their way, it came out
later, they stopped in Dundee for refreshment without any apparent dread
of disturbance, and were later seen on the Fort hill near Broughty
Ferry. In the evening they entered a shop, bought up all the bread in it
and had a leather bottle filled with spirits. At nine the same evening
they boarded Mr. Grubb’s ship _Nancy_, and immediately got under weigh
unnoticed. The _Nancy_ was of fifteen tons burden, and was known to be
provisioned for ten days, as she was going to start the next morning on
an excursion. The prisoners escaped, and a woman and two Renfrewshire
Militiamen were detained in prison after examination upon suspicion of
having concealed and aided the prisoners with information about the
_Nancy_ which they could hardly have obtained ordinarily.
This was on Thursday, January 21. On the night of Monday, 18th, a mason
at the Dépôt, on his way from Newburgh to Perth, was stopped by three
men at the Coates of Fingask on the Rhynd road, and robbed of £1 18_s._
6_d._ The robbers had the appearance of farm servants, but it seems
quite likely that they were the daring and successful abductors of the
_Nancy_.
On January 21, 1813, there were 6,788 prisoners at the Dépôt. On the
evening of February 22, 1813, seven prisoners bribed a sentinel to let
them escape. He agreed, but at once gave information, and was instructed
to keep up the deception. So, at the fixed hour the prisoners, awaiting
with confident excitement the arrival of their deliverer, were, instead,
found hiding with scaling-ladders, ropes, and all implements necessary
for escape upon them, and a considerable sum of money for their needs.
They were at once conveyed to the punishment cells under the central
tower.
At Perth, as elsewhere, the prisoners were allowed to amuse themselves,
and to interest themselves in the manufacture of various knick-knacks,
toys, boxes, and puzzles, from wood, and the bones of their beef; of
these they made a great variety, and many of them are masterpieces of
cunning deftness, and wonderfully beautiful in delicacy and perfection
of workmanship. They made straw plait, a manufacture then in its infancy
in this country; numbers made shoes out of bits of cloth, cutting up
their clothes for the purpose, and it is possible that their hammocks
may have yielded the straw. It is said that after a time straw plait and
shoes were prohibited as traffic. Some of the prisoners dug clay out of
their court-yards and modelled figures of smugglers, soldiers, sailors,
and women. The prisoners had the privilege of holding a market daily, to
which the public were admitted provided they carried no contraband
articles. Potatoes, vegetables, bread, soap, tobacco, and firewood, were
all admitted. Large numbers of the inhabitants went daily to view the
markets, and make purchases. The prisoners had stands set out all round
the railing of the yards, on which their wares were placed. Many paid
high prices for the articles. While some of the prisoners were busy
selling, others were occupied in buying provisions, vegetables and other
necessaries of food. Some of the prisoners played the flute, fiddle, and
other instruments, for halfpence; Punch’s opera and other puppet shows
were also got up in fine style. Some were industrious and saving; others
gambled and squandered the clothes from their bodies, and wandered about
with only a bit of blanket tied round them.
From Penny’s _Traditions of Perth_ comes the following market trick:
‘As much straw plait as made a bonnet was sold for four shillings, and,
being exceedingly neat, it was much inquired after. In this trade many a
one got a bite, for the straw was all made up in parcels, and for fear
of detection smuggled into the pockets of the purchasers.
‘An unsuspecting man having been induced by his wife to purchase a
quantity of straw plait for a bonnet, he attended the market and soon
found a seller. He paid the money, but, lest he should be observed, he
turned his back on the prisoner, and got the things slipped into his
hand, and thence into his pocket. Away he went with his parcel, well
pleased that he had escaped detection (for outsiders found buying straw
plait were severely dealt with by the law), and on his way home he
thought he would examine his purchase, when, to his astonishment and no
doubt to his deep mortification, he found instead of straw plait, a
bundle of shavings very neatly tied up. The man instantly returned, and
told of the deception, and insisted on getting back his money. But the
prisoner from whom the purchase had been made could not be seen. Whilst
trying to get a glimpse of his seller, he was told that if he did not go
away he would be informed against, and fined for buying the supposed
straw plait. He was retiring when another prisoner came forward and said
he would find the other, and make him take back the shavings and return
the money. Pretending deep commiseration, the second prisoner said he
had no change, but if the straw plait buyer would give him sixteen
shillings, he would give him a one pound note, and take his chance of
the man returning the money. The dupe gave the money and took the
note—which was a forgery on a Perth Bank.’
Attempts to escape were almost a weekly occurrence, and some of them
exhibited very notable ingenuity, patience, and daring. On March 26,
1813, the discovery was made of a subterranean excavation from the
latrine of No. 2 Prison, forty-two feet long, and so near the base of
the outer wall that another hour’s work would have finished it.
On April 4, 1813, was found a pit twenty feet deep in the floor of No. 2
Prison, with a lateral cut at about six feet from the bottom. The space
below this cut was to receive water, and the cut was to pass obliquely
upwards to allow water to run down. A prisoner in hospital was suspected
by the others of giving information about this, and when he was
discharged he was violently assaulted, the intention being to cut off
his ears. He resisted, however, so that only one was taken off. Then a
rope was fastened to him, and he was dragged through the moat while men
jumped on him. He was rescued just in time by a Durham Militiaman.
On the 28th of the same month three prisoners got with false keys into
an empty cellar under the central tower. They had provided themselves
with ordinary civilian attire which they intended to slip over their
prison clothes, and mix with the market crowd. They were discovered by a
man going into the cellar to examine the water pipes. Had they succeeded
a great many more would have followed.
On May 5, 1813, some prisoners promised a big bribe to a soldier of the
Durham Militia if he would help them to escape. He pretended to accede,
but promptly informed his superiors, who told him to keep up the
delusion. So he allowed six prisoners to get over the outer wall by a
rope ladder which they had made. Four were out and two were on the
burial ground which was between the north boundary wall and the Cow
Inch, when they were captured by a party of soldiers who had been posted
there. The other two were caught in a dry ditch. They were all lodged in
the _cachot_. It was well for the ‘faithful Durham’, for the doubloons
he got were only three-shilling pieces, and the bank notes were
forgeries!
In June three men escaped by breaking the bar of a window, and dropping
therefrom by a rope ladder. One of them who had got on board a neutral
vessel at Dundee ventured ashore and was captured; one got as far as
Montrose, but was recognized; of the fate of the third we do not hear.
A duel took place between two officers with sharpened foils. The
strictest punctilio was observed at the affair, and after one had badly
wounded the other, hands were shaken, and honour satisfied.
About this time a clerk in the Dépôt was suspended for attempting to
introduce a profligate woman into the prison.
The usual market was prohibited on Midsummer market day, 1813, and the
public were excluded, as it was feared that the extraordinary concourse
of people would afford opportunities for the prisoners to escape by
mixing with them in disguise.
The Medical Report of July 1813 states that out of 7,000 prisoners there
were only twenty-four sick, including convalescents, and of these only
four were confined to their beds.
On August 15, 1813, the prisoners were not only allowed to celebrate the
Emperor’s birthday, but the public were apprised of the fête and invited
to attend a balloon ascent. The crowd duly assembled on the South Inch,
but the balloon was accidentally burst. There were illuminations of the
prisons at night, and some of the transparencies, says the chronicler,
showed much taste and ingenuity. Advantage was taken of the excitement
of this gala day to hurry on one of the most daring and ingenious
attempts to escape in the history of the prison. On the morning of
August 24 it was notified that a number of prisoners had escaped through
a mine dug from the latrine of No. 2 prison to the bottom of the
southern outer wall. It was supposed that they must have begun to get
out at 2 a.m. that day, but one of them, attempting to jump the ‘lade’,
fell into the water with noise enough to alarm the nearest sentry, who
fired in the direction of the sound. The alarm thus started was carried
on by the other sentries, and it was found that no fewer than
twenty-three prisoners had got away. Ten of them were soon caught. Two
who had got on board a vessel on the Perth shore were turned off by the
master. One climbed up a tree and was discovered. One made an attempt to
swim the Tay, but had to give up from exhaustion, and others were
captured near the river, which, being swollen by recent rains, they had
been unable to cross; and thirteen temporarily got away.
Of these the _Caledonian Mercury_ wrote:
‘Four of the prisoners who lately escaped from the Perth Dépôt were
discovered within a mile of Arbroath on August 28th by a seaman
belonging to the Custom House yacht stationed there, who procured the
assistance of some labourers, and attempted to apprehend them, upon
which they drew their knives and threatened to stab any one who lay
[_sic_] hold of them, but on the arrival of a recruiting party and other
assistance the Frenchmen submitted. They stated that on Thursday
night—(they had escaped on Tuesday morning) they were on board of a
vessel at Dundee, but which they were unable to carry off on account of
a neap tide which prevented her floating; other three or four prisoners
had been apprehended and lodged in Forfar Gaol. It has been ascertained
that several others had gone Northwards by the Highland Road in the
direction of Inverness.’
The four poor fellows in Forfar Jail made yet another bold bid for
liberty. By breaking through the prison wall, they succeeded in making a
hole to the outside nearly large enough for their egress before they
were discovered. The only tool they had was a part of the fire-grate
which they had wrenched in pieces. Their time was well chosen for
getting out to sea, for it was nearly high water when they were
discovered. Two others were captured near Blair Atholl, some thirty
miles north of Perth, and were brought back to the Dépôt.
Brief allusion has been made to the remarkable healthiness of the
prisoners at Perth. The London papers of 1813 lauded Portchester and
Portsmouth as examples of sanitary well-being to other prisoner
districts, and quoted the statistics that, out of 20,680 prisoners
there, only 154 were on the sick list, but the average at Perth was
still better. On August 26, 1813, there were 7,000 prisoners at Perth,
of whom only fourteen were sick. On October 28, out of the same number,
only ten were sick; and on February 3, 1814, when the weather was very
severe, there was not one man in bed.
The forgery of bank notes and the manufacture of base coin was pursued
as largely and as successfully at Perth as elsewhere. In the _Perth
Courier_ of September 19, 1813, we read:
‘We are sorry to learn that the forgery of notes of various banks is
carried on by prisoners at the Dépôt, and that they find means to throw
them into circulation by the assistance of profligate people who
frequent the market. The eagerness of the prisoners to obtain cash is
very great, and as they retain all they procure, they have drained the
place almost entirely of silver so that it has become a matter of
difficulty to get change of a note.... Last week a woman coming from the
Market at the Dépôt was searched by an order of Captain Moriarty, when
there was found about her person pieces of base money in imitation of
Bank tokens (of which the prisoners are suspected to have been the
fabricators), to the amount of £5 17_s._ After undergoing examination,
the woman was committed to gaol.’
It was publicly announced on September 16, 1813, that a mine had been
discovered in the floor of the Officers’ Prison, No. 6, at the Dépôt.
This building, a two-story oblong one, now one of the hospitals, still
stands to the south of the General Prison Village Square. An excavation
of sufficient diameter to admit the passage of a man had been cut with
iron hoops, as it was supposed, carried nineteen feet perpendicularly
down-wards and thirty feet horizontally outwards.
A detachment of the guard having been marched into the prison after this
discovery, the men were stoned by the prisoners, among whom the soldiers
fired three shots without doing any injury. At 11 o’clock the next
Sunday morning, about forty prisoners were observed by a sentry out of
their prison, strolling about the airing ground of No. 3. An alarm was
immediately given to the guard, who, fearing a general attempt to
escape, rushed towards the place where the prisoners were assembled,
and, having seized twenty-four of them, drove the rest back into the
prison. In the tumult three of the prisoners were wounded and were taken
to the hospital. The twenty-four who were seized were lodged in the
_cachot_, where they remained for a time, together with eleven retaken
fugitives.
Next morning, on counting over the prisoners in No. 3, twenty-eight were
missing. As a light had been observed in the latrine about 8 o’clock the
preceding evening, that place was examined and a mine was discovered
communicating with the great sewer of the Dépôt. Through this outlet the
absentees had escaped. Two of them were taken on the following Monday
morning at Bridge of Earn, four miles distant, and three more on
Thursday.
A short time previous to this escape, 800 prisoners had been transferred
to Perth from the Penicuik Dépôt, and these, it was said, were of a most
turbulent and ungovernable character, so that the influence of these men
would necessitate a much sterner discipline, and communication between
the prisoners and the public much more restricted than hitherto. In the
foregoing case the punishments had been very lenient, the market being
shut only for one day.
Gradually most of the escaped prisoners were retaken, all in a very
exhausted state.
Not long after, heavy rains increased the waters of the canal so that,
by breaking into it, they revealed an excavation being made from No. 1.
In the same month three prisoners got out, made their way to Findon,
Kincardineshire, stole a fishing-boat, provisioned it by thefts from
other boats, and made off successfully.
Yet another mine was discovered this month. It ran from a latrine, not
to the great sewer, but in a circuitous direction to meet it. The
prisoners while working at this were surrounded by other prisoners, who
pretended to be amusing themselves, whilst they hid the workers from the
view of the sentries. But an unknown watcher through a loophole in a
turret saw the buckets of earth being taken to the well, pumped upon and
washed away through the sewer to the Tay, and he gave information.
Yet again a sentry noticed that buckets of earth were being carried from
No. 6 prison, and informed the officer of the guard, who found about
thirty cartloads of earth heaped up at the two ends of the highest part
of the prison known as the Cock Loft.
On April 11, 1814, the news of the dethronement of Bonaparte reached
Perth, and was received with universal delight. The prisoners in the
Dépôt asked the agent, Captain Moriarty, to be allowed to illuminate for
the coming Peace and freedom, but at so short a notice little could be
done, although the tower was illuminated by the agent himself. That the
feeling among the prisoners was still strong for Bonaparte, however, was
presently shown when half a dozen prisoners in the South Prison hoisted
the white flag of French Royalty. Almost the whole of their fellow
captives clambered up the walls, tore down the flag, and threatened
those who hoisted it with violent treatment if they persisted.
The guard removed the Royalists to the hospital for safety, and later
their opponents wrote a penitential letter to Captain Moriarty. In June
1814 the removal of the prisoners began. Those that went down the river
in boats were heartily cheered by the people. Others marched to
Newburgh, where, on the quay, they held a last market for the sale of
their manufactures, which was thronged by buyers anxious to get
mementoes and willing to pay well for them. ‘All transactions were
conducted honourably, while the additional graces of French politeness
made a deep impression upon the natives of Fife, both male and female,’
adds the chronicler. It was during this march to Newburgh that the
prisoners sold the New Testaments distributed among them by a zealous
missionary.
Altogether it was a pleasant wind-up to a long, sad period, especially
for the Frenchmen, many of whom got on board the transports at Newburgh
very much richer men than when they first entered the French dépôt, or
than they would have been had they never been taken prisoners.
Especially pleasant, too, is it to think that they left amidst tokens of
goodwill from the people amongst whom many of them had been long
captive.
The Dépôt was finally closed July 31, 1814.
During one year, that is between September 14, 1812, and September 24,
1813, there were fourteen escapes or attempted escapes of prisoners. Of
these seven were frustrated and seven were more or less successful, that
is to say, sixty-one prisoners managed to get out of the prison, but of
these thirty-two were recaptured while twenty-nine got clean away.
From 1815 to 1833 the Dépôt was used as a military clothing store, and
eventually it became the General Prison for Scotland.