In 1798 Vochez, the official sent to England by the French Directory to inquire into the true state of French prisoners under our care, brought an action against certain provision contractors for astounding breaches of their engagements, in the shape of a system of short weightage carried on for years, and of supplying provisions of an inferior character. In this he was supported by Captain Lane, a travelling inspector of prisons, and an honest official, and this, wrote Vochez, ‘despite the contradiction by a number of base and interested prisoners brought to London for that express purpose to attack the unblemished character of that officer.’
Captain Lane insisted that the Governor of the Prison should give certificates as to the badness of the provisions supplied; this was done, and Vochez’s case was established. The Admiralty entirely endorsed Captain Lane’s recommendation that in every case the Governors of Prisons should certify as to the character of provisions supplied by contractors, highly complimented him on his action, and very heavily mulcted the rascally contractors. Unhappily, the vile system was far from being abolished. The interests of too many influential people were linked with those of the contractors for a case such as the above to be more than a flash in the pan, and the prison contractors continued to flourish until the very end of the Great War period.
In 1799 Mill Prison was practically rebuilt, and became known as Millbay. The condition of it at this time seems to have been very bad. It was said that some of the poor inmates were so weak for lack of proper food that they fell from their hammocks and broke their necks, that supplies of bedding and clothing were only to be had from ‘capitalists’ among the prisoners, who had bought them from the distribution officers and sold them at exorbitant rates.
In 1806, at the instance of some Spanish prisoners in Millbay, a firm of provision contractors was heavily mulcted upon proof that for a long time past they had systematically sent in stores of deficient quality.
In 1807 the Commissioners of the Transport Office refused an application that French prisoners at Millbay should be allowed to manufacture worsted gloves for H.M.’s 87th Regiment, on the grounds that, if allowed, it would seriously interfere with our own manufacturing industry, and further, would lead to the destruction by the prisoners of their blankets and other woollen articles in order to provide materials for the work.
I now proceed to give a very interesting account of prisoner life in Millbay Prison from Édouard Corbière’s book, Le Négrier.
When a lad of fifteen, Corbière was captured on the Val de Grâce privateer by H.M.S. Gibraltar, in 1807. The Val de Grâce must have been a very small craft, for not only did she not show fight, but the Gibraltar simply sent off a boat’s crew, made fast hawsers and tackles, and hoisted the Frenchman bodily on board. Corbière and his fellows were sent to Millbay. Before describing his particular experiences, he gives a page or so to a scathing picture of our shore prisons, but he impressively accentuates the frightful depravity brought about by the sufferings endured, and says that nobody who had not lived in an English war-prison could realize the utter depths of wickedness to which men could fall. At Millbay, he says, the forts à bras ruled all by mere brute strength. Victories at fights or wrestling matches were celebrated by procession round the airing grounds, and the successful men formed the ‘Government’ of the Pré, as the airing ground was called, regulating the gambling, deciding disputes, officiating at duels—of which there were many, the weapons being razors or compass points fixed on the ends of sticks—and generally exercising despotic sway. They were usually topsmen and sailors. The Romains were the pariahs at Millbay, and the Rafalés the lowest of all, naked rascals who slept in ranks, spoon fashion, as described elsewhere.
The usual industries were carried on at Millbay. Much money was made by the straw plaiters and workers, some of the latter earning 18 sous a day. But the straw ‘capitalists’, the men who bought straw wholesale through the soldiers of the guard, and who either employed workers themselves, or sold the straw to other employers, accumulated fortunes, says Corbière, of from 30,000 to 40,000 francs. There were teachers of sciences, languages, music, dancing and fencing. There were eating-cabins where a ‘beef steak’ could be got for four sous. There were theatrical performances, but not of the same character or quality as, for instance, at Portchester.
On Sundays, as at Stapleton, the prayers of the Mass were read. Each province was particular in observing its own festivals—Basques and Bretons notably.
A great many ‘broke-paroles’ were here, and, Corbière remarks, the common sailors took advantage of their fallen position and ostentatiously treated them as equals, and even as inferiors. Not so the soldiers, who punctiliously observed the distinctions of rank; and there were even instances of private soldiers helping officers not used to manual labour to supplement their daily rations.