‘Le Château, 30me mai, 1756.
‘Monsieur:
‘La présente est pour vous prier de nous donner de délargissement, attendu que nous ne sommes point obligés pour une personne de nous voir detenus commes nous sommes. Nous vous avertisons que si nous n’avons pas l’élargissement nous minerons le Château, et nous sommes résolus de nous battre contre nos ennemis. Nous ne sommes point obligés de souffrir par raport d’un joli qui ne nous veu que de la peine. Nous avons des armes, de la Poudre blanche et des Bales (Balles?) pour nous défendre. Nous vous prions de nous donner la liberté le plus tôt possible, attendu que nous sommes tout prêst a suivre notre dessein. On nous a déjà tué un homme dans le prison, et nous aurons la vengeance.
‘Nous avons été tranquille jusqu’aujourdui, mais présentement nous allons jouer à la Françoise des rigodons sans violons attendu que nous sommes tous d’un accord.
‘Jugez de Reste,
‘Votre très affectionné et
‘François en général.’
Sissinghurst Castle
From an old print
On June 24, 1758, the following complaint was sent up:
‘Nosseigneurs:
‘Nous avons eu l’honneur de vous envoyer un placet en date du 17me de ce mois, et nous là vous tenus [sic] entre les mains de Mr. Paxton, Secretaire de Mr. Cook [Cooke] le 18me nous y faisions de justes plaintes touchant le Gouvernement de Mr. Cook qui n’est rien moins que tyrannique et capricieuse, et nous vous le posions tout au long sa dernière injustice. Craignans qu’on ne vous ait pas mis celuy la, nous avons pris la liberté de vous faire cette lettre pour vous prier de nous rendre justice. Si Mr. Cook n’avoit rien à se reprocher il ne retiendrait pas les lettres que nous vous addressons. Tout le monde scait ce que mérite celuy qui détourne des oreilles de justice, les cris de ceux qui la réclame et qui n’ont d’autre crime que d’être infortunés, nous espérons nosseigneurs que vous y aurez egarder que vous nous ferez justice, nous vous aurons à jamais l’obligation.
‘Vos humbles et très obeisans serviteurs
‘Pour tous les prisonniers en général.’
At about the same date twenty-seven paroled naval officers at Cranbrook signed a complaint that they were not allowed by the one-mile limit of their parole to visit their crews, prisoners at Sissinghurst, two miles away, to help them in their distress and to prevent them being robbed by the English who have the monopoly of getting things for sale into the prison, notably the jailers and the canteen man, not to mention others. Also that the prisoners at Sissinghurst had no chance of ventilating their grievances, which were heavy and many:
‘De remédier à une injustice, ou plutôt à une cruauté que les nations les plus barbares n’exercisions. En effet c’est une tiranie audieuse que de vouloir forcer des pauvres prisonniers à n’acheter d’autre marchandises que celles venant des mains de leurs Gardiens, et d’empécher leurs parens et amis de leur envoyer à beaucoup meilleur marché aussy bien.’
Many of the letters from relations in France to prisoners at Sissinghurst are preserved at the Record Office. It is only from acquaintance with these poor tattered, blotted ebullitions of affection and despair that the modern Englishman can glean a notion of what confinement in an English prison of husbands, fathers, brothers, and lovers meant to hundreds of poor, simple peasant and fisher women of France. The breath of most of them is religious resignation: in a few, a very few, a spirit of resentment and antagonism to Britain is prominent; most of them are humble domestic chronicles blended with prayers for a speedy liberation and for courage in the meanwhile. There is nothing quite like these mid-eighteenth century letters in the correspondence of the succeeding great struggle, when the principles of the Revolution had penetrated to the homes of the lowliest. One sees reflected in it the simplicity, the childish confidence in the rightness and fitness of all in authority, and, above all, the deep sense of religion, which invested the peasantry of France with a great and peculiar charm.
During this year, 1758, the letters of complaint are many and pitiful, the chief subject being the non-delivery to prisoners of their letters, and the undue surveillance exercised over correspondence of the tenderest private nature. In 1760 the occupants of Sissinghurst received their share of the clothes provided by English compassion. Many of them were accused of selling these clothes, to which they replied that it was to buy necessaries or tobacco, or for postage, and added that they had been for a long time on half-rations.
On October 14 a desperate attempt to escape was made, and frustrated in an unnecessarily brutal manner. A prisoner named Artus, his brother, and other prisoners discovered a disused latrine. Into this they crept, broke through a brick wall by a drain, and reached the edge of the moat, and crossed it to the opposite bank close to the first of the three sentries on duty along it. This was at ten o’clock on a moonlight night. Two of the prisoners passed the first and second sentries and got some way into the fields. Artus and his brother were to follow, and were crawling on hands and knees to avoid being seen. The first sentry, who was close by, did nothing, having probably been bribed; but the other two sentries, being alarmed by a fourth sentry, who was on the right hand of the first, ran up and challenged Artus, who cried: ‘Don’t fire! Surrender!’ But the sentry disregarded this, wounded him in two places on the arm, tearing his waistcoat, and then fired at him point blank, blowing off half his head. Artus’s brother, three yards behind, was secured by a drummer who was armed with nothing but a drumstick, thus proving the utterly unnecessary killing of Artus. Two other prisoners were captured later in the drain, ready to come out.