The correspondence evoked by this letter, however, sufficiently proved that this was nothing more than tradition.
Yarmouth
Prisoners were confined here during the Seven Years’ War, although no special buildings were set apart for their reception, and, as elsewhere, they were simply herded with the common prisoners in the ordinary lock-up. In 1758 numerous complaints came to the ‘Sick and Hurt’ Office from the prisoners here, about their bad treatment, the greed of the jailer, the bad food, the lack of medical attendance and necessaries, and the misery of being lodged with the lowest class of criminals. Prisoners who were seriously ill were placed in the prison hospital; the jailer used to intercept money contributed by the charitable for the benefit of the prisoners, and only paid it over after the deduction of a large commission. The straw bedding was dirty, scanty, and rarely changed; water had to be paid for, and there was hardly any airing ground.
After the building of Norman Cross Prison, Yarmouth became, like Deal and Falmouth, a mere receiving port, but an exceedingly busy one, the prisoners being landed there direct from capture, and generally taken on by water to Lynn, whence they were conveyed by canal to Peterborough.
From the Norwich Mercury of 1905 I take the following notes on Yarmouth by the late Rev. G. N. Godwin:
‘Columns of prisoners, often 1,000 strong, were marched from Yarmouth to Norwich, and were there lodged in the Castle. They frequently expressed their gratitude for the kindness shown them by the Mayor and citizens. One smart privateer captain coolly walked out of the Castle in the company of some visitors, and, needless to say, did not return.
‘From Yarmouth they were marched to King’s Lynn, halting at Costessy, Swanton Mosley (where their “barracks” are still pointed out), East Dereham, where some were lodged in the detached church tower, and thence to Lynn. Here they were lodged in a large building, afterwards used as a warehouse, now pulled down. [For a further reference to East Dereham and its church tower, see p. [453].]
‘At Lynn they took water, and were conveyed in barges and lighters through the Forty Foot, the Hundred Foot, the Paupers’ Cut, and the Nene to Peterborough, whence they marched to Norman Cross.
‘In 1797, 28 prisoners escaped from the gaol at Yarmouth by undermining the wall and the row adjoining. All but five of them were retaken. In the same year 4 prisoners broke out of the gaol, made their way to Lowestoft, where they stole a boat from the beach, and got on board a small vessel, the crew of which they put under the hatches, cut the cable, and put out to sea. Seven hours later the crew managed to regain the deck, a rough and tumble fight ensued, one of the Frenchmen was knocked overboard, and the others were ultimately lodged in Yarmouth gaol.’
Edinburgh
For the following details about a prison which, although of importance, cannot from its size be fairly classed among the chief Prisoners of War dépôts of Britain, I am largely indebted to the late Mr. Macbeth Forbes, who most generously gave me permission to use freely his article in the Bankers’ Magazine of March 1899. I emphasize his liberality inasmuch as a great deal of the information in this article is of a nature only procurable by one with particular and peculiar facilities for so doing. I allude to the system of bank-note forgery pursued by the prisoners.
Edinburgh Castle was first used as a place of confinement for prisoners of war during the Seven Years’ War, and, like Liverpool, this use was made of it chiefly on account of its convenient proximity to the waters haunted by privateers. The very first prisoners brought in belonged to the Chevalier Bart privateer, captured off Tynemouth by H.M.S. Solebay, in April 1757, the number of them being 28, and in July of the same year a further 108 were added.
‘In the autumn of 1759 a piteous appeal was addressed to the publishers of the Edinburgh Evening Courant on behalf of the French prisoners of war in Edinburgh Castle by one who “lately beheld some hundreds of French prisoners, many of them about naked (some without any other clothing but shirts and breeches and even these in rags), conducted along the High Street to the Castle.” The writer says that many who saw the spectacle were moved to tears, and he asked that relief might be given by contributing clothing to these destitute men. This letter met with a favourable response from the citizens, and a book of subscriptions was opened forthwith. The prisoners were visited and found to number 362. They were reported to be “in a miserable condition, many almost naked,” and winter approaching. There were, however, revilers of this charitable movement, who said that the public were being imposed upon; that the badly clothed were idle fellows who disposed of their belongings; that they had been detected in the Castle cutting their shoes, stockings, and hammocks into pieces, in the prospect of getting these articles renewed. “One fellow, yesterday, got twenty bottles of ale for a suit of clothes given him by the good people of the town in charity, and this he boasted of to one of the servants in the sutlery.”
‘The promoters of the movement expressed their “surprise at the endeavours used to divert the public from pursuing so humane a design.”.... They also pointed out that the prisoners only received an allowance of 6d. a day, from which the contractor’s profit was taken, so that little remained for providing clothes. An estimate was obtained of the needs of the prisoners, and a list drawn up of articles wanted. Of the 362 persons confined 8 were officers, whose subsistence money was 1s. a day, and they asked no charity of the others; no fewer than 238 had no shirt, and 108 possessed only one. Their other needs were equally great. The “City Hospitals for Young Maidens” offered to make shirts for twopence each, and sundry tailors to make a certain number of jackets and breeches for nothing. The prisoners had an airing ground, but as it was necessary to obtain permission before visiting them, the chance they had of disposing of any of their work was very slight indeed.’