“The Indifferents:” Those who did nothing, but resigned themselves to the tender mercies of the English government.
“The Minables:” Gamblers who were ready to sell their last shirt to satisfy their love of play.
“The Kaiserlichs:” Gamblers like the Minables, but who had attained an utter obliviousness to human cares and necessities. When the annual supply of clothing was distributed—a pair of trousers, a yellow jacket marked with black letters, a shirt, and a pair of shoes—they at once sold their allotments to the highest bidder and went all the rest of the year barefoot and shirtless.
“The Romans:” The lowest class of all; so called because they occupied the highest story of each prison, called the “capitol.” They possessed no single article of clothing. Each man wore only a blanket, looked upon as common property, with a hole cut in the middle, through which the head was passed. In order to become a Roman, it was necessary that the candidate’s hammock should be sold, and tobacco bought with the proceeds, for the enjoyment of the whole society. They might be seen in the common passages of the prison, five or six together fighting like dogs for some chance bone or potato peeling, and it was said that on one occasion when the governor’s cart had been sent into the court of the prison, the “Romans” seized the horses, and killed and devoured them. When the “capitol” was closed for the night, their general, who alone had a hammock, but without mattress or covering, arranged his men in two lines on either side, and at the word “bas!” all stretched themselves on the floor in perfect order and silence. Even the solitary blanket was laid aside in their own wards; but the general, besides the dignity of a hammock, was allowed on certain occasions to wear a kind of uniform, of which the embroidery was of straw, curiously worked. Once, when the whole body of the “Romans,” about six hundred in number, had been permitted to visit the interior of another prison, they seized the supplies in the kitchen en route, actually made prisoners of the guard sent to suppress the riot, and then paraded the court with loud cries of “Vive l’Empereur.” The guards were speedily reinforced, and the “Roman” general dismissed to the cachot. The scanty military strength which could be spared for Dartmoor was a source of considerable apprehension during the whole time the prisons were occupied.
Many details respecting these unhappy “Romans” are here purposely omitted, although the authority quoted, L. Catel, does not hesitate to relate them. They exhibited perhaps the lowest degradation of which humanity is capable. An intense passion for play, manifested more or less by the whole body of prisoners, was the main cause of their wretched condition; but crime in all its shapes was common among them, not the less horrible on account of the reckless and frantic merriment with which it was accompanied. And yet among them were some of the best educated of the prisoners. What was exhibited at Dartmoor was that same dark tendency of human nature which in all ages has led men encompassed by great and irremediable difficulties to catch at the first enjoyments that present themselves. The throng of prisoners, housed together for long and dreary years, was, it must be remembered, without any of that surveillance which they would have had as criminals or convicts. The sole aim of authority was merely to retain them safely.
The general sanitary condition of Dartmoor was, considering the great number of men, remarkably good. The hospital was well appointed and the patients well cared for; the humane treatment afforded them is gratefully acknowledged on all sides. Fevers and small-pox at one time committed great ravages, and the Americans suffered much. But those disorders were most skilfully treated, and letters to that effect were afterward sent by the released prisoners to Sir George McGarth, the surgeon in attendance. There were a few instances of suicide both among French and Americans.
It is worth notice that the “Romans” of Dartmoor, in spite of their ten years’ imprisonment, winter and summer, utterly without clothing, were more healthy than any other men in the depot. They were, however, frequently brought to the hospital in a state of suspended animation, from which they were recovered by the usual processes. They were at last removed altogether to prison Number Four, that appropriated in part to the coloured population, which was separated from the others. Regular supplies of money and clothing were issued to them by the government four times during the year, but they got rid of these within even a day or two. At last they were removed from Dartmoor, clothed afresh, and put on board a hulk at Plymouth, where they were debarred from intercourse with the guards on the ship and closely watched, under strict discipline, until their release at the end of the war in 1814. They were then four hundred and thirty-six in number.
Life at Dartmoor must have been almost intolerable to this polygot collection of foreigners with little in common among them but never ending misery. Strangers in a strange land, surrounded by dreary wastes, shivering under leaden skies, seldom seeing the sun which to many was as the breath of life, all alike were consumed with inappeasable nostalgia, hopelessly cut off from their native soil and seemingly separated forever from their kith and kin and all they held most dear. Yet many strove bravely in various ways to combat their wretchedness, to rise superior to ever torturing despair. Occupation was a constant craving with the larger number. Work of any kind was thankfully undertaken to pass the weary hours. All who possessed any handicraft gladly offered their services to the authorities. Ready employment offered to masons, blacksmiths, carpenters, coopers, painters and so forth, in the many buildings in progress around. By their aid two of the main blocks were completed and the walls of the prison chapel were raised entirely by the French captives, after their arrival on the moor. Road making and the improved approaches and communications gave work to many more beyond the enclosures. All permitted to work outside the prison limits carried a tin plate or badge on their caps and were always engaged under the eyes of the guards. If any got away the working pay of the rest was forfeited for a time, not always an effectual plan, however, in checking escapes.
The prisoners found many outlets for their steady and intelligent industry. With the native ingenuity of the Frenchmen they employed themselves constantly in the manufacture of fancy articles, which were presently sold and some of which are still preserved as art treasures in many English country homes. There is one ivory box possessed by Maclaine of the island of Mull, originally made by a French war prisoner confined in Edinburgh Castle, which is a marvel of artistic excellence and covered with intricate carving. Another fine piece is mentioned: the model of a ship only two inches in length constructed of bone by a French sailor in Dartmoor prison, and which fetched the high price of five hundred francs. Considerable sums were earned in this way; and it is stated that when the day of release came prisoners often took with them as much as one hundred pounds. Facilities for traffic in these products were afforded by the prison authorities. A daily market was held in an open space arranged within the innermost yard of the prison, and to this people from the neighbourhood were admitted, bringing articles of food for sale and to bargain for the commodities offered by the prisoners, who also sold surreptitiously their rations and their clothing in their hunger for ready money. The rations at that time consisted of one pound of bread, half a pound of fresh meat, a quarter of a pint of peas and a modicum of salt. Many of the Frenchmen had special aptitude for trading and did a large business with the outsiders. Some established coffee houses inside for the convenience of their comrades; others set up as cooks and one invented a certain ragout composed of mutton pies and potatoes called ratatouille which was highly commended.
More intellectual occupations were followed by the well educated. Professors of various forms of learning might be found within its walls, masters of most European languages, teachers of drawing, mathematics, music and dancing. Books were by no means scarce, and it is said that many who had arrived quite illiterate and ignorant, left the prison possessing a good stock of general learning. Amusement of the higher sort was not wanting, for a theatre existed with a respectable company and many popular French comedies were regularly represented.