“On my arrival at Givet,” writes Mr. Wolfe, “I soon discovered that I had undertaken a task of much more difficulty and danger, than I had at all been willing to believe. I found the depôt in the most deplorable state. Both in a moral and physical point of view, it would be difficult to conceive anything more degraded and miserable. And as regards religion, every appearance of it was confined to some twenty methodists, who were the objects of the most painful persecution, and often the innocent cause of the most dreadful blasphemies. For, not content with abusing, and sometimes ill-treating them, the drunken and vicious, more effectually to distress and grieve them, would blaspheme that sacred name by which we are called, and utter their contempt in the most extravagant, and offensive mockery. The bodily privations of the prisoners, and their want of the comforts, and common necessaries of life was equally distressing. The barracks were situated in a narrow pass, between the perpendicular rock of the fortress of Charlemont on the one side, and the river Meuse on the other; and all the space the men had for exercise, was between the building itself and the river, along the side of which was a wall. This slip of ground, not more than ten paces in width, and exposed to the southern sun, was in the heat of summer a complete oven. Yet here they were obliged to walk, except they should stay in a hot room, with sixteen persons crowded into it all the day. In the hospital, the sick were mixed with those of the prisoners of other nations, and were in a shocking state of neglect, and covered with vermin. Not a single prisoner was allowed to go out into the town; and even the interpreter was accompanied by a gens d’armes. It was almost impossible for any of them to get any thing from their friends, for there was no one to receive it for them; and the little that did come, was subjected to a deduction of five per cent by the marechal des logis. And so great was their distress at that moment, that unable to satisfy the cravings of hunger, they were seen to pick up the potato peelings that were thrown out into the court, and devour them.
“It appears to be the natural tendency of misery and want, to foster vice, and encourage the worst feelings of the human heart; and that effect, in its fullest sense, was produced on this occasion. The little money that was received by the prisoners, instead of being applied to the relief of their wants, and to make them more comfortable in food and clothing, was spent in riot and excess. On these occasions, sailors are, of all other men, most ready to communicate, and never think of to-morrow. And, left, as they were, entirely to themselves, no one caring for their souls, no one having the desire, or the power to restrain them, either by force or by persuasion, in the midst of the real distress which they experienced, the depôt of Givet was, perhaps, at that moment, the most reprobate spot that can be imagined.
“In addition to these discouragements, connected with the field of labour which I had undertaken; I now found, that there were difficulties in my own situation, which would probably involve me in personal danger, of a very serious nature; or at least, cause me to be sent away to the dungeons of Bitche.
“The Commandant, and those that were under his orders, from the time I arrived at the depôt, viewed me with a very evil eye. They had all a share in the spoil of the poor prisoners; and my interference on their behalf, and the opportunities which I had of detecting their extortions, enraged them exceedingly against me. Whenever I made an attempt, as I frequently did, to put a stop to the exactions upon the money which was sent in to the men; or when any complaint was made of the meat, or the bread, these officers were loud in their threats of denunciations, and of sending me off to Bitche. And for the first two years of my stay in that place, I never went to bed, without the impression upon my mind, that, ere the morning, I might probably be thus suddenly marched off.
“Before I left Verdun, I had been cautioned not to pay any money to the prisoners, which might be remitted to me, either from their friends in England, or from the charitable fund at Verdun, without express permission from the Commandant, a caution which proved most salutary. For, even though I obtained this permission, the marechal des logis came to me the next morning, in a great rage, reproached me with taking away his honest gains, and required me in future to send in the money through him. I complained to the Commandant, who inveighed against the avarice of this man; but I found that he was either unwilling, or afraid to redress this shameful abuse. And, although I subsequently made many attempts to pay the men their money without this abominable drawback, it was always without effect, and at the risk of being denounced, and sent away from the depôt.
“The exertions which were made, during the long-continued detention of the English prisoners in France, for the relief of such among them as were in want, are known to every one. The sums so raised were contributed by benevolent individuals in London; to whom the collections made throughout the country, for the same charitable purpose, were also forwarded; and by them committed to the care of some of the most respectable persons in the depôt of Verdun, who had formed themselves into a committee for that effect. These gentlemen, who were themselves liberal contributors, dispensed to the necessitous, and sent to the different depôts such relief, as the exigencies of each required. And sometimes, in the hope of more effectually relieving the sufferings of those confined in distant places, individuals from this chief depôt, went to visit them, and even took up their temporary or permanent abode among them.
“At the time these charitable contributions were received at Givet, and the payment to each prisoner was small, though the whole amount was considerable, I went to the commandant, and represented to him the charitable object of the money that was to be distributed; and said, I hoped he would not allow any deduction to be made from trifling sums, arising from such a source. He said, it would be altogether shameful, willingly gave me the permission to pay it, and granted my further request, that a certain number of the prisoners should be permitted to come into the town once a week, to lay out the money more advantageously, in necessaries for themselves and their fellow prisoners. This was very joyful to the poor men; but, unfortunately, they could not contain their triumph, and boasted, in not very measured terms, that they had at length overcome the marechal des logis. This was sufficient; the Commandant took this excuse for withdrawing the permission; and, before the next weekly pay-day arrived, I received a message from him, that he had a particular reason for desiring that I would not again pay the money myself. I said, that in that case, I would not pay it at all. And for a considerable time I resisted. But surrounded as I was with spies, I could not explain what I was doing to the men. And even if I had, the Commandant knew well, they were too impatient to receive their money, not to submit to the sacrifice, even of the half, if it were required, rather than wait.
“He, also, had his hired friends, not only among the gens d’armes, but among the men themselves, who insinuated to them that it was all my fault that it was not paid.[3] They sent in a specific message to the Commandant, that they were willing to pay the deduction as usual; and after resisting for, I think, two pay-days, I at length felt that it was wrong any longer to deprive the poor men of a charitable relief so necessary for them, and again submitted to this iniquitous tax.
“The great difficulty of my situation arose from hence. I knew that if I were found, directly or indirectly, opposing, or interfering with the business of the depôt, otherwise than with the consent of the Commandant, and as I was able to work upon his moral feeling, or regard to his character, I should be immediately sent away. I was permitted to go there only as chaplain; and it was evident, from every one else, who could have done anything for the prisoners, having been sent away, that I should not be allowed to stay in any other capacity. Traps were constantly laid for me,[4] and I knew, by examples before my eyes, that if they could find any such interfering to allege against me, they would say to me, as they always did, that the thing I complained of was a shameful abuse. But they would have denounced me, as one of the Commandants afterwards did, as having done something, which they knew the minister of war, without any inquiry would punish by sending me away from the depôt. And as they would be very angry, and their accusation be of a kind which he would consider serious, an order would come down, be put in execution, perhaps in the middle of the night; and without any explanation, or, probably, any one knowing it, till the following morning, I should have been marched from brigade to brigade, to the fortress of Bitche, subject to join company with deserters and criminals, and tied, it might be, hand to hand with them.[5] This might have been risked; but in what state would the poor fellows have been left? They would have been reduced to the same miserable condition in which I found them, with the additional oppression which would arise from the angry feeling left upon the minds of the officers who had charge of them. And thus, sound policy, and a conscientious regard to the object for which I was permitted to be at the depôt, the religious instruction and consolation of the prisoners, perfectly coincided. Under any circumstances, I could not have thought a disingenuous conduct right, and must have given up any advantage, or even usefulness, rather than resort to it. But I found that a plain and straightforward course enabled me to be more serviceable to the prisoners. And though, sometimes, I could not help making strong representations to the Commandant, I never worked indirectly, or endeavoured to set the men’s minds against him. My general resource was persuasion, and a direct appeal to his conscience, and his amour propre, which was particularly his weak side. And with the aid of a very kind and influential French officer in the Engineers, who was always ready to assist me, and favour the prisoners, I was enabled to accomplish more, by this open conduct, than I could have done by means of a more indirect and inimical nature. But it will readily be conceived, that circumstanced as I was, this would often subject me to misrepresentation, and render extreme circumspection necessary.
“In the impossibility of knowing who were in the interest of the Commandant, even among the men themselves, I had but one resource, I suspected nobody, and I trusted nobody. I never explained my views or intentions to any one, and said nothing that required the least secrecy. At one time, therefore, the men, when they could not have what they wished, suspected all was not right; at another when they complained of tyranny and knavery, the agents and subalterns of the Commandant declared, that I was at the bottom of it, and they would soon have me at the dungeons of Bitche; and, at a third, the Commandant himself would be influenced by his people, and suspect me of underhand dealing.[6]