On the 14th March 1800, the First Consul issued an Edict, in which among other articles was one directing that the British Government should clothe their French prisoners.

To this Edict the French Minister for Foreign Affairs referred Captain Cotes (the English commissary in Paris), in order that he might see, among other things, that Buonaparte had determined “that the said prisoners should be clothed by the British Government.” [109] This Edict, cancelling an agreement previously entered into between the two Governments, was not communicated direct to the British Government; and from a letter written by the Secretary of State for War to the Lords of the Admiralty on the 4th December 1800, it is clear that the issuing of this Edict, practically an order from the head of the Government of the country with which we were at war, directing the British Government to adopt a certain course, had only increased the determination of the Government to hold its own. The Secretary for War, Mr. Dundas, in this letter justifies the action of the British Government, and to strengthen his appeal to the French Authorities to do what he considered their duty, and clothe the prisoners, he quotes the fact “that misery, sickness, and a heavy mortality prevail among the French prisoners in the various depots in this country, while the Dutch, under the same management, and with the same allowances in every respect as the French, but clothed by their own Government, continue to enjoy their usual health.”

Those who read this correspondence, now in this twentieth century, when the bitter animosity between the two countries has died away, must feel that the obstinacy was not confined to the French, and must wish that the British had done sooner, what they ultimately did, clothe the prisoners and debit the French Government with the cost.

In the correspondence I have quoted, the usurer, rather than his victims, is spoken of as the cause of the misery, and no mention is made of gambling. But in other reports this vice is mentioned as the root of the evil, the result of which was that when an epidemic broke out, the mortality among these naked, starving wretches was terrible. Among the material relating to Norman Cross, picked out from the miscellaneous thousands of papers at the Record Office, was a bundle of long slips of paper—Certificates—ruled out with columns, eleven in all, corresponding to those in the prison register, and ending with one for the date of death, and another for the fatal disorder or casualty. Among the large bundle for the year 1800, a year of terrible mortality owing to the presence of an epidemic, is a certificate, dated 14th June, which bears an irregular note in pencil, made apparently by the surgeon when he forwarded the slip to the agent; the pencilled note on this certificate is a terrible revelation of what, in that year, was going on in the prison at Norman Cross.

“You see, my dear Sir, since our selection of the invalids, and the benefit of warm weather, we have had but one death this ten days. If another batch of those vagabonds, who by their bad conduct defy all the benefits the Benevolence of this country bestows upon them, were to be sent away in September next, we might expect great benefit from it in the winter, for to a certainty all these blackguards will die in the winter. Compare sixty a week with one in ten days.”

From this scrap we learn how terrible was the mortality, and how bad was the character of these wretched men; we learn also that when all the steps taken to reform them had failed, some system of segregation and removal to the hulks or elsewhere was finally recommended. There is evidence in a letter of M. Otto’s that a large number of invalids and men of the class spoken of as “Les Misérables,” or less sympathetically by the surgeon as “these blackguards,” was sent back to France. Two years after this pencilled note was written, all the prisons, both in Britain and France, were emptied, and the prisoners restored to their native countries; but when they refilled after the renewal of the war in 1803 under the same conditions, the same depravity and suffering developed.

At Dartmoor, 1809 to 1816, there are records, especially those of the Americans, which furnish full particulars of the internal life of that prison, particulars which in the case of Norman Cross can only be gathered from scraps such as the pencilled note just referred to. Mr. Basil Thomson has permitted the reprint in this history of his chapter on these reprobates in Dartmoor. It is terrible reading, but I avail myself of Mr. Thomson’s permission, because there is little doubt that much of the description of these self-styled “Romans” at Dartmoor would apply equally to “Les Misérables” at Norman Cross, and that the Norman Cross “Blackguards” were, like the “Romans,” ostracised by their fellow prisoners, and were in a similar, if in a less systematic fashion than their Dartmoor brethren, segregated by natural selection from their comrades, and herded together in special parts of the prisons.

From a careful perusal of the death certificates for the year 1801, when the terrible epidemic, commencing in November 1800, carried off a thousand victims, it would appear that Block 13, that behind the hospital caserns in the north-east quadrangle, was the habitat of “Les Misérables.” There are constantly recurring notes at the end of the certificate to the effect: “This prisoner had sold his clothes and rations; he was from No. 13.” The cause of death given was debility. There are other entries, with the simple note, “Debility, from 13.” [111]

CHAPTER VI

“LES MISÉRABLES” AND THE “ROMANS” OF DARTMOOR