Thirty-eight years after the termination of the war, Mr. Hopkinson thought he would take his son to Verdun, to the spot where he, the lad’s father, had spent ten years of what should have been the best period of his life. He found the chamber in which he had been confined unaltered, and utilised as a barrack room. Examining a bar in one of the windows, he showed his son a cut three parts through it.
“That,” said Mr. Hopkinson, “was made by me and some comrades with a file made from a watch-spring more than forty years ago, when we were on the eve of an attempt to escape. We had almost finished cutting the bar, and a little midshipman was in the act of coiling the rope which one of our party had managed to secure from the well in the barrack yard, when the tread of the guard was heard coming to our room; the poor little midshipman dropped it, making sure that he would be killed. The steps came nearer, and another of the party, quick as lightning and with the skill of a seaman, coiled it in the high earthen pitcher-shaped jar, in which was our supply of water. Hardly had he finished, when the guard entered and looked round, for the rope had been missed; they searched in the bedding, but not in the jar, and we escaped detection.”
This sketch of a young naval cadet’s experiences at Verdun represents, no doubt, fairly faithfully what was going on at Norman Cross, and in many another part of England, in those days of the terrible war. [233]
Before quitting Verdun, we may mention that it was not the only town where English prisoners were confined. They were also at Amiens, Auxonne, Dunkirk, Saumur, Tangiers, Tours, Vitré, Givet, Saarlouis, and other places.
For those guilty of misconduct, breach of parole, or attempts at escape, the subterranean dungeons at the Fortress of Bitche were reserved. If the accounts of the lives of French prisoners in England are scanty, those of the British in France are meagre in the extreme, being confined principally to short notices of the détenus in Verdun, generally well-to-do people, and naval and military officers, who were fairly well treated. As to the prisoners in general we read:
“The distress under which the British seamen suffered in France was excessive. The scanty pittance allowed each man daily consisted of a small square piece of bullock’s liver, a slice of black bread, and a glass of new brandy. Had it not been for the relief they received from the Patriotic Fund, forwarded to them through a private channel, many of them must have perished from want.
“The object of the French, in treating our seamen with such inhumanity in this respect, was to make them dissatisfied with their own Government, by inducing a belief that they were neglected by it, and thus to tempt them to enter the French service. Numerous were the offers made to them for that purpose, which, to the honour of our brave but unfortunate tars, were usually rejected with contempt and indignation.
“They resolved to perish, rather than prove traitors to their country.”
The following extract from a letter from Lieutenant Tucker, who was captured with Captain Woodriff, gives a brief and good description of the life of a prisoner of his position:
“Lieutenants were allowed 56 francs a month from the French Government, which just paid their lodging. No cause to complain of indulgence, allowed to walk or ride 6 miles in every direction, provided they were in before the shutting of the town gates at 9 o’clock at night. Captains were obliged to sign their names every 5 days, Lieutenants once a day, all other prisoners twice a day. No other restrictions, could lodge where they pleased, and as they liked. There was a first class of society, very good, but very extravagant; they are chiefly people of fortune, who were detained when travelling at the commencement of the war. The senior naval English officer was Captain Gower, late of the Shannon, then Captain Woodriff and 5 others, besides 38 Lieutenants.
“There were 2 clubs, where there were all the French, and sometimes the English newspapers: in short, if a prisoner has health, he may spend his time pleasantly enough.
“There is no society between the English and French; the latter are a few Military, and tradesmen, who had made their fortunes by the extravagance of Englishmen since the war.”
A fairly reliable picture of the life at Verdun may be gathered from a comedy in two acts, called The Prisoner of War, by Douglas Jerrold, produced at Drury Lane in 1812; the scene of the play is laid at Verdun. Making allowance for dramatic licence, the situations are probably fairly accurately described from the recollection of people known to the author. There is the competition among landlords for prisoner lodgers, there is the Jew money-lender who fattens on them, there are the breaches of regulations, the escapes and punishments at the Fortress of Bitche, the latter corresponding to the hulks at Chatham for delinquents in England.
From various detached sources we obtain other fragmentary glances of Verdun, and learn that only British were confined there, the Austrians and Prussians being at Chalons. As late as 1805 ordinary sailors were also confined there, as it is recorded that a party managed to escape to England in May of that year.