Chapter XXII: Part 22

Dunning was very proud of being lord of the manors of Pridhamsleigh, Spitchwick, and Widdecombe, and he was boasting of his possession to some friends in London when “Jack Lee,” afterwards Solicitor-General, said: “Aye, Dunning, you may have _manors_ in Devonshire. It is a pity you did not bring your _manners_ up to Town and to Westminster.”

Whilst holding office as Solicitor-General, during a recess, he and Colonel Isaac Barré, his friend and colleague in the representation of Calne, visited Berlin. “As distinguished members of the British Legislature the two friends received marked attention at the Court of Frederick the Great. When presented by their proper titles, the military chiefs surrounding the throne of the Soldier-King naturally concluded that a Solicitor-General of England must occupy a high position in the British Army. The latter part of the title they could understand, while the prefix ‘solicitor’ was doubtless some foreign equivalent to that of major or lieutenant. Clearly the proper way to entertain the English officers was to invite them to a grand review of the Prussian Army. The invitation was issued with a courteous intimation that suitable means of conveyance to the field would be duly provided. At the appointed hour the two guests of royalty were ready--Col. Barré in full military costume, and Dunning fully arrayed in court suit, bag-wig, dress-sword, and silk hose, with brilliant buckles at knee and instep. On descending to the door of the hotel the latter shrank back with dismay at finding, instead of the expected chariot, two orderly dragoons holding the bridles of a couple of prancing chargers duly caparisoned for the field. Col. Barré was soon in the saddle; but it was not without some hesitation and the undignified help of the soldiers that the great lawyer succeeded in attaining a like elevation. Once wedged in the hollow of the demi-pique saddle, with its holsters in front and its raised cantle behind, he felt tolerably secure. But your horse has a quick perception of the capacity of his rider, and the proud steed on which Dunning rode chose to exercise his own discretion with regard to his movements. To their unconcealed amusement, the great Frederick and his staff were treated to an equestrian spectacle not set down in the programme of the day. Finding at last that these antics were getting somewhat too lively for him to cope with, poor Dunning was fain to beg for assistance in escaping from the back of his wilful quadruped, and the Prussian monarch and his suite became aware that their English allies had generals in Westminster Hall whose charges bore no affinity to charges in the field of war.”

In London John Dunning was visited by his mother and father. The former did not by any means approve of the luxury of his table, and scolded him for extravagant housekeeping. But the father was puffed up with elation at seeing that his son had become so great a man. Neither lived to see him raised to the peerage.

Dunning was nearly fifty years old before he married, and then he took to him Elizabeth the daughter of John Baring, of Exeter, who was half his age. They were married at St. Leonard’s by Exeter on 31 March, 1780, as at that time John Baring and his family resided at Larkbeare in that parish.

Lord North’s Ministry fell, and a new administration was undertaken by the Marquess of Rockingham. Lord Shelburne became Secretary of State, and at his recommendation Dunning was given a coronet. His patent of nobility bore the date 8 April, 1782, and the title he assumed was that of Baron Ashburton. There were hot jealousies in the party, and the Marquess of Rockingham was highly incensed at the coronet being granted to Dunning without his having been consulted. The Rockinghamites insisted on peer for peer, and accordingly Sir Fletcher Norton was raised to the peerage in a very great hurry to keep them quiet.

Lord Ashburton’s health began to fail almost as soon as he married. At the age of fifty-one his constitution was completely broken, and Lady Ashburton could look for a happy release from a very disagreeable husband in a very short time. Dunning expired at Exmouth on 18 August, 1783, after repeated attacks of paralysis, leaving one son, Richard Barré, then fifteen months old, to be second Lord Ashburton, and last of the first creation.

In spite of a coarseness, almost brutality of manner, and his unpleasant tricks of hawking and spitting, Dunning managed to make friends, and perhaps even inspire affection. Sir William Jones felt or pretended to feel deep emotion at his death. He wrote: “For some months before his death the nursery had been his chief delight, and gave him more pleasure than the Cabinet could have afforded. But his parental affection, which had been the source of so much felicity, was probably the cause of his fatal illness. He had lost one son, and expected to lose the other, when the author of this painful tribute to his memory parted from him with tears in his eyes, little hoping to see him again in a perishable state.

“As he perceives without affectation that his tears now steal from him, and begin to moisten the paper on which he writes, he reluctantly leaves a subject which he could not soon have exhausted; and when he also shall resign his life to the great Giver of it, he desires no other decoration of his humble gravestone than this honourable truth:--

With none to flatter, none to recommend,
Dunning approved and marked him as a friend.”

After the death of Dunning, his widow, Lady Ashburton, resided at Spitchwick, and on her decease it was occupied by Miss Baring.

If Dunning hoped to found a family and transmit his manors and lands and houses and wealth to a long line of descendants, his hope was frustrated. His son, Richard Barré, second Baron Ashburton, married in 1805 Anne Selby, daughter of William Cunninghame, of Lainshaw, co. Ayr, and he died in 1823 without issue, and bequeathed his estates to his wife for life, then to his wife’s nephews for life, and then to his wife’s nieces, Margaret, Elizabeth, Anna Maria Isabella Macleod, in succession for life, the survivor having the estates in fee simple. The nephew, James Edward, Baron Cranstoun, who died in 1869, and Charles his brother, who succeeded to the title and died soon after, had but a life interest in the estates. These now passed to Margaret, Baroness de Virte, daughter of Robert Macleod, of Cadboll, co. Cromarty, who had married Isabella Cunninghame, sister of Lady Ashburton. Baroness de Virte died in 1904. Her youngest sister, Anna Maria Isabella,[39] who had married John Wilson, of Seacroft, Yorkshire, had died the year before the Baroness, and left two sons; the eldest had died before her; and of those that survive, the senior inherited the Yorkshire estates, and the younger, Arthur Henry Wilson, Esq., now owns those obtained by John Dunning, and Sandridge Park by Totnes as well. John Dunning, first Lord Ashburton, was buried in Ashburton Church, where is his monument, now obscured by the organ which is planted before it.

Richard Barré, second Lord Ashburton, in bequeathing his estates to his wife’s relations, excepted Guatham, the ancestral farm and acres. These he left to any Dunning who could claim relationship, though he added that he did not know that any such existed. However, one did appear and established his connexion and obtained Guatham, and it has been sold to the Lopes family at Maristowe. The arms granted to John Dunning, first Lord Ashburton, were: Bendy, sinister of eight, or and vert, a lion rampant sable--certainly a very ugly coat and bad heraldry. The crest, an antelope’s head, couped proper, attired proper.

For much of the information contained in this article I am indebted to an admirable “Memoir of John Dunning, First Lord Ashburton,” by the late Robert Dymond, in the _Transactions_ of the Devonshire Association for 1876. Also to a “Life of John Dunning” in the _Penny Cyclopædia_ for 1837.

GOVERNOR SHORTLAND AND THE PRINCETOWN MASSACRE

On the 18th June, 1812, the United States of America declared war with Great Britain. Since Napoleon’s Edict of Berlin, 21 November, 1806, which had closed all the ports of Europe that he could control against English merchandise, there had been considerable tension, breaking out into ill-will, between the States and Britain. By Orders of Council, our vessels were empowered to stop and search American ships for deserters from our navy, and for contraband of war, although the Orders were relaxed as far as America was concerned for the ports of Germany and of the Baltic, yet our interference hampered her growing trade with France, and this was forbidden by the above Orders. The States cast a covetous eye on Canada, and hoped to cripple our trade with the West Indian Islands. Indeed, the declaration of war was kept secret for some days so as to afford opportunity for the armed vessels of the States to intercept the sugar fleet before it and its convoy had received news that war was declared.

Prisoners began to arrive at Plymouth, mainly seamen captured from merchant vessels, and were sent to the _Hector_ and _Le Brave_, two line-of-battle ships unfit for service at sea and now anchored in the Hamoaze. The officers were entitled to reside on parole in Ashburton, and were allowed by the British Government eighteenpence a day each man for their lodging and board and washing. They were suffered every day to walk a mile along the Exeter or the Totnes road, but were required every evening to return to their respective lodgings and there remain till the next morning. But such officers as broke parole were sent to the common sea-mess on board one or other of the ships above-mentioned.

The French officers had shown conspicuous indifference about keeping their parole. Between 1809 and 1812 five hundred officers violated their paroles and effected their escapes. A good many American officers were equally unscrupulous.

We have the journal of an American prisoner, Charles Andrews, who was one of the first taken and who remained in durance till the end of the war. His statement was countersigned as a genuine record of facts by fourteen captains, two lieutenants, one doctor, and forty-five others who had shared the long captivity with him.

There were other American prisoners at Chatham and at Portsmouth, but with them we have no concern.

Every prisoner sent to one of the two ships for their accommodation in the Hamoaze was given a coarse hammock with a mattress, the latter with from 3 to 4 lb. of chopped rags and flock in it, “one coarse and sleazy blanket,” and these were to last for the twelvemonth. To each man was allowed 1-1/2 lb. of poor coarse bread, 1/2 lb. beef including bone, 1/3 oz. of salt, and one or two turnips per man. These rations were for five days in the week: the other two were fish days, 1 lb. salt haddock, 1 lb. potatoes and bread as before, then constituted the fare.

From the summer of 1812 to April, 1813, there were seven hundred prisoners on board these vessels at Plymouth. They suffered from want of many conveniences and comforts. They had no change of clothes and linen, some had their garments completely worn out; they were not provided with combs and brushes, tea, coffee, boots and shoes. The American Government had appointed a Mr. Ruben G. Beasley as its agent in England to see to the comfort of the prisoners, and he was furnished with money by that Government for the supply of all that was needful to make the captivity endurable by those who had to endure it. But he pocketed the money and only doled out some to Jews who undertook to supply certain articles to the prisoners, few and bad, short in quantity and bad in quality. The American prisoners wrote repeatedly in complaint to Mr. Beasley, pointing out that they were half-starved, in bad health, shoeless, nearly naked. But he did not even trouble to answer the letters and made no inquiry as to the real condition of the complainants. Added to their discomforts was the fact that they were devoured by vermin, and had no means of keeping themselves clean.

On 2 April, 1813, an order was issued for the American prisoners to be transferred to Princetown, with their hammocks, baggage, etc., and on that day 250 men were so dispatched. “Orders were given to march at 10.30 in the morning, with a positive injunction that no prisoners should step out of or leave the ranks, on pain of instant death. Thus we marched, surrounded by a strong guard, through a heavy rain, over a bad road, with only our usual and scanty allowance of bread and fish. We were allowed to stop only once during the march of seventeen miles.

“We arrived at Dartmoor late in the afterpart of the day, and found the ground covered with snow.

“The prison of Dartmoor is situated on the east side of one of the highest and most barren mountains in England, and is surrounded on all sides as far as the eye can see by the gloomy features of a black moor, uncultivated and uninhabited, except by one or two miserable cottages, just discernible in an eastern view, the tenants of which live by cutting turf on the moor and selling it at the prison. The place is deprived of everything that is pleasant or agreeable, and is productive of nothing but human woe and misery. Even riches, pleasant friends, and liberty could not make it agreeable. It is situated seven miles from the little village of Tavistock.

“On entering this depôt of living death, we first passed through the gates and found ourselves surrounded by two huge circular walls, the outer one of which is two miles in circumference and 16 ft. high. The inner wall is distant from the outer 30 ft., around which is a chain of bells suspended by a wire, so that the least touch sets every bell in motion and alarms the garrison. On the top of the inner wall is placed a guard at the distance of every 20 ft. Between the two walls and over the intermediate space are also stationed guards.

“Thus much for the courtyard of this seminary of misery. We shall next proceed to give a description of the gloomy mansion itself. On entering we find seven prisons enclosed in the following manner, and situated quite within all the walls before-mentioned. Prisons 1, 2, and 3 are built of hard, rough, unhewn stone three storeys high, 180 ft. long and 40 ft. broad; each of these prisons on an average can contain 1500 prisoners. There is also attached to the yard a house of correction, called a cachot; this is built of large stone, arched above and floored with the same. Into this cold, dark, and damp cell, the unhappy prisoner is cast if he offend against the rules of the prison, either willingly or inadvertently, and often on the most frivolous pretext. There he must remain for many days, and often weeks, on two-thirds the usual allowance of food, without a hammock or a bed, and nothing but a stone pavement for his chair and bed. These three prisons are situated on the north side of the enclosure, as is also the cachot, and separated from the other prisons by a wall. Next to these is another, No. 4, equally as large as any of the others, this is separated from all the rest by a wall on each side, and stands in the centre of the circular walls.

“Adjoining this are situated prisons Nos. 5, 6, and 7, along the south side of the circular wall.”

The prisons had been erected at a cost of £130,000 in 1809, and consisted of five radiating blocks of buildings, like spokes of a wheel, and two other blocks nearer the entrance. These two constituted, one the hospital, the other the residence of the petty officers. A segment cut off from the inner circle contained the governor’s house and the other buildings necessary for the civil establishment; and into this part of the ground the country people were admitted and a daily market was held, where vegetables and such other things as the prisoners might care to purchase were provided, in part by the neighbouring farmers, but mainly by Jew pedlars. The barracks for the troops was a detached building at a little distance.

“We entered the prisons,” continues Mr. Andrews, “but here the heart of every American was appalled. Amazement struck the unhappy victim, for as he cast his hopeless eyes around, he saw the water constantly dripping from the cold stone walls on every side, which kept the floor, made of stone, constantly wet and cold as ice. During the month of April there was scarce a day but more or less rain fell.”

When the Americans arrived they found the prison already packed with 8000 French captives. These were of various classes and characters. Among these latter “the Seigneurs” were such as received remittances from their friends, or had money of their own, and were able to draw cheques on Plymouth bankers, and these bought such luxuries as they would in the market of the outer court. Those who worked at trades were known as labourers, and they were employed in building the chaplain’s house, etc. The inn, “The Plume of Feathers,” the sole building in Princetown which is not an architectural monstrosity, was erected by these French “labourers.” They also erected the cottage at Okery Bridge, which was an extremely picturesque edifice till its balconies and galleries were removed. But there were others, the prisoners who would do no work, who gambled for whatever they possessed, and quarrelled, fought, and were intolerable nuisances. These would gamble the very clothes off their backs, and were reduced to blankets with a hole cut in the middle, through which they thrust their heads. As they were denied knives, when they wanted to fight they attached one blade of a pair of scissors to a stick, and with these formidable weapons, each armed with one portion of the scissors, they were able to deal each other serious wounds.

To the great annoyance of the American prisoners they were thrust into No. 4 ward, into which had been relegated the good-for-naught class of the French. But here they did not live as brothers, for they drew a sharp line of demarcation between themselves, who were of white blood, and their negro brethren, fellow seamen captured with them under the same banner.

At the end of May the Americans appealed respectfully, but urgently, to the U.S. agent, Mr. R. G. Beasley, complaining that the allowance made them was scanty, that the whole day’s pittance was scarcely enough for one meal, that for the greater part the American prisoners were in a state of nakedness, and that a good many of them to escape from a condition that was intolerable had volunteered to join the King’s service.

“To these petitions, complaints, and remonstrances, Mr. Beasley returned no answer, nor took any notice of them whatever.”

On 28 May, 250 more American prisoners arrived, raising the total to 500. Again they appealed to the agent of the U.S.A., informing him that they were defrauded of half their rations by the contractor, that small-pox was raging among them, and that they were swarming with vermin.

“To these complaints he paid no more attention, neither came to see whether they were true or false, nor sent any answer either written or verbal.”

On 16 September, 1813, to the immense relief of the Americans, all the French prisoners to the number of 436, who had herded with them in No. 4, were turned out and placed elsewhere. Many of these had been in prison for ten years, and were in a condition of perfect nudity, and slept on the bare floor without any rug under them or covering over them. This endured for so many years had caused their skin to acquire a hardness like that of the stones. But this condition was entirely due to the passion for gambling. Whenever they were supplied with clothes, instead of putting them on, they started playing and staking every several article of clothing given them, till they had lost all. They had often been supplied by their countrymen with hammocks, beds, and garments, but they no sooner were in possession of them than they went to the grating, sold them to the Jews outside, and gambled the whole proceeds away. Very different was it in the No. 6 ward, occupied by the industrious French prisoners. “Here is carried on almost every branch of the mechanic arts. They resemble little towns; every man has his separate occupation, his workshop, his store-house, his coffee-house, his eating-house, etc.; he is employed in some business or other. There are many gentlemen of large fortune there who, having broken their parole, were committed to close confinement. These were able to support themselves in a genteel manner; though they were prisoners, they drew upon their bankers in other parts of Europe. They manufactured shoes, hats, hair, and bone-work. They likewise, at one time, carried on a very lucrative branch of manufacture; they forged notes on the Bank of England to the amount of £150,000 sterling, and made so perfect imitations that the cashier could not discover the forgery. They also carried on the coining of silver, to a very considerable advantage. They had men constantly employed outside the yard, to collect all the Spanish dollars they could, and bring them into the prison. Out of every dollar they made eight smooth English shillings, equally as heavy, and passed as well as any in the kingdom.”

With regard to the forgery of bank-notes, something may be added. The material for manufacturing the notes was imported from without, and the Jews were largely involved in the matter. The method pursued was revealed in 1809, before the American prisoners arrived, when two French captives, Charles Guiller and Victor Collas, who were berthed on board _El Firm_, in the Hamoaze, made overtures for their transfer to the _Généreux_, from which they could direct their operations with more freedom. They opened negotiations with the captain’s clerk of the _Généreux_, candidly telling him that their object was the forgery and passing of £5 bank-notes, and promising him a share of the spoils. The man affected to entertain the proposition, but communicated the whole to his captain, secured the transfers as desired, and supplied the prisoners with all the necessary facilities. By means of fine hair pencils and Indian ink they forged to a point of astonishing perfection notes on the Bank of England, the Naval and Commercial Bank, and Okehampton one-pound notes. To compensate for the deficiency of the official perforated stamps, they set to work with smooth halfpennies and sail-maker’s needles, and thus imitation was carried to perfection. When the prisoners had made sufficient progress, their trunk was seized with the evidences of their guilt, and they were restored to closer supervision, and visited with the usual corporal punishment.[40]

On the whole, the French prisoners, if they conducted themselves well and were industrious, did not suffer severely. A book was published in Paris by Le Catel, in 1847, entitled _La Prison de Dartmoor, un récit historique des Infortunes et Evasions des Prisonniers Français en Angleterre, sous l’Empire, depuis 1809 jusqu’en 1814_, but it is a romance, the “facts” drawn out of the lively imagination of the author. The only prisoners who really suffered were those who brought their sufferings on themselves. As Andrews says of the French, “they drink, sing, and dance, talk of their women in the day time and dream of them at night. But the Americans have not that careless volatility, like the cockle in the fable, to sing and dance when the house is on fire over them.”

In December, 1813, the cold was severe. Captain Cotgrave was governor of the prison, and he ordered the prisoners to turn out every morning at nine o’clock and stand in the yard till the guards had counted them, and this usually took over an hour. Many of the prisoners were without stockings, and some without shoes, and many without jackets. They cut up their blankets to wrap round their feet and legs, that they might be able to endure the cold and snow which lay thick whilst they were undergoing this ceremony. They complained to Captain Cotgrave, but he replied that he was acting upon orders. Several of the naked men, chilled and half starved, fell insensible before him and the guards and turnkeys, and had to be removed to the hospital; but as soon as they were brought round they were sent back to their prison.

On 22 December, 1813, Captain Cotgrave was superseded and Captain Thomas G. Shortland was appointed governor. At first he seemed to be an improvement on the former, who had been a harsh martinet; he stopped the roll-call and required the surgeon to visit the prisons daily. But the favourable impression he caused at first did not last long.

Hitherto, for some unaccountable reason, the licence to trade with the country-folk and pedlars in the outer court which had all along been allowed to the French had been denied to the American prisoners, but on 18 March, 1814, this restriction was withdrawn, and the American prisoners were allowed greater privileges. They now began to receive money from home, to make shoes of list, to plait straw, make bracelets, and carve meat-bones. The French had been allowed to have plays with a stage and scenery once a month, good music and appropriate comic and tragic costumes. They had also had their schools for teaching the arts and sciences, dancing, fencing, and fiddling. But all these privileges had been denied to the Americans occupying No. 4. Now these privileges were extended to them, and they considered that this indulgence was due to Captain Shortland. Indeed, Shortland seems to have been on the whole more humane than Cotgrave, and the final disaster which has blackened his name was due to another cause, his moral and mental incapacity to fill the position into which he had been thrust.

In 1814, there were 1500 prisoners of American nationality in No. 4. They despaired of freedom, and were rendered restless by the French prisoners evacuating the prison after the abdication of Napoleon, 4 April, 1814, and the end of the European war. Then there were 3500 American prisoners moved into No. 5, and by 31 December in that year the number amounted to 5326, mainly in the buildings 4 and 5.

Those in No. 4 now resolved on making an attempt at escape, and they began to excavate a tunnel that was to run 250 feet and enable those in the ward to escape, not only out of the block, but also beyond the outer wall. American blacksmiths among the prisoners furnished the necessary tools, and correspondence was maintained with American agents outside, and a fleet of friendly fishing boats was hovering about in Tor Bay to receive the prisoners. But they were betrayed by one of their number, who led the Governor to the excavation when it had been carried as far as sixty feet. It was at once choked up with masses of granite and cement, and those who had been engaged on it were put on short commons. This was in the summer of 1814. The attempt completely upset Governor Shortland’s nerves.

On 24 December, 1814, peace between England and America was signed at Ghent, and the news speedily reached England, but did not arrive in the United States, and was not published there till 11 February, 1815. By 1 January, 1815, the American prisoners in Princetown were aware that the time of their incarceration was drawing to an end. Indeed, they might have all been discharged, but that the Government waited for the United States Government to send men-of-war or other vessels to convey the prisoners to America. A misunderstanding prevented their immediate release. The American Government considered it the duty of the British Government to reconvey the prisoners to the United States, and undertook in return to reconvey the British prisoners detained in their prisons to Bermuda or Halifax. Lord Castlereagh objected to this as an unfair and unreasonable distribution of expenses, for Great Britain would be put to the expense, not only of conveying the American prisoners to the States, but also of bringing home from Bermuda and Halifax all the prisoners of her own nationality.

At the end of March, 1815, three months after peace had been concluded, there were 5693 prisoners within the walls of Princetown Gaol. That these were restless and impatient at their detention is not to be wondered at. But their chief irritation was against Mr. Beasley, the agent, whom they considered as dilatory, and who they supposed ought at once to have provided for their repatriation, they being unaware of the contention between the two Governments as to the cost of this repatriation. They were further incensed against him because, according to the testimony of John C. Clement, one of them, made in Philadelphia: “During our confinement, the American agent (Beasley) did not give us, say from 2 April, 1813, to March, 1814, the 6s. 8d. sterling per month, as well as the suit of clothes allowed us annually by our Government, which money and clothes the prisoners have never received; and when I, with two hundred and fifty others, were released from prison, there was likewise a shirt, a pair of shoes, and 6s. 8d. due to us, which we never received. The prisoners had applied to Beasley repeatedly for what was due to them, but received no satisfaction. He never visited the prisons but once during the two years and upwards I was there.” On 4 April the Governor went to Plymouth; and orders had been left that the prisoners were to be given biscuit in place of bread. This they resented, and refused the biscuit. Towards evening they broke out in mutiny and threatened to sack the stores unless they were at once provided with bread, but this was done and they were satisfied.

A messenger was at once dispatched to Plymouth to announce to Shortland that the captives were in rebellion. When he received the news he rushed off to the Citadel and begged for a reinforcement of two hundred men to be added to the five hundred Somersetshire and Derbyshire militiamen already at Princetown. Accordingly these soldiers, under Major Joliffe, were accorded him. He returned with them to Princetown, and found that the rioters had peacefully retired to their beds after the outbreak and promised to give no more trouble.

Governor Shortland was somewhat irritated against the Americans on account of a practical joke they had recently played on him. One evening they had attached a jacket and a pair of breeches to a string, and had let them down over the outer wall. A turnkey saw what he supposed to be a prisoner in the act of making his escape, and communicated with the Governor, who called out some warders, marched to within some yards of the spot, and ordered a volley to be fired at the supposed escaping prisoner. As he did not fall, a little nearer inspection revealed that an April fool had been made of him.

On 6 April, at 6 p.m., Captain Shortland was informed that a hole had been discovered in the wall that separated the yard No. 6 from No. 7. This hole, says Andrews, had been made that same afternoon by some of the Americans out of mere mischief, and without any design of effecting their escape. Indeed, why should they attempt it, when their release was at hand, and they were in daily expectation of receiving their cartels of discharge?

Other prisoners state that the hole was made by some of the boys whose ball, as they were playing, had flown over into the next yard, and they bored through so as to recover their ball. Directly it was discovered a sentinel was placed by it to prevent its being enlarged; but it was then no bigger than that a head could be thrust through; and afterward, through the hole in the wall, the sentinel remonstrated with the prisoners on the other side.

All the prisoners who were subsequently examined protested on oath that the perforation was not made with intent to escape, or to get at the armoury so as to provide themselves with weapons. This, however, was the view taken of it by Shortland, and in a fit of nervous fear he ordered the alarm bells to be pealed and the military to be called out. These latter issued from their barracks with drums beating to arms. This was at ten minutes to six in the evening.

This sudden and unexpected alarm excited the attention and curiosity of the prisoners, and they poured forth from their wards, filled the inner yard and rushed to the outer gates. They suspected that fire had broken out.

“Among so many as were in the depôt,” says Andrews, “it is reasonable to suppose that some mischievous persons were among them, and among those collected at the gate were some such persons who forced the gates open, whether by accident or design I will not attempt to say; but without any intention of making an escape, and totally unknown to every man except the few who stood in front of the gates. Those back naturally crowded forward to see what was going on at the gates; this pressed and forced a number through the gates, quite contrary to the intention of either these in front or those in rear.

“While in this situation Captain Shortland entered the inner square at the head of the whole body of soldiers in the garrison. As soon as they entered Captain Shortland took sole command of the whole, and immediately drew up the soldiers in a position to charge.”

Here ensues a difference between the report of the commissioners appointed later to investigate the matter and that drawn up by the prisoners. These latter assert that the officers of the regiment, seeing what was Shortland’s intention, refused to act under him, and withdrew. The commissioners state that the hour was that of the officers’ mess, and that they were at dinner, and only two young lieutenants and an ensign were with the soldiers. But this is incredible. The alarm bell pealing and the drum calling to arms would have summoned the officers from their mess, and we are rather inclined to believe that the account of the Americans is correct. The officers saw that the Governor had lost his head and was resolved on violence, and they withdrew so as not to be compromised in what would follow. The officers, says Andrews, perceiving the horrid and murderous designs of Captain Shortland, resigned their authority over the soldiers and refused to take any part, or give any orders for the troops to fire. They saw by this time that the terrified prisoners were retiring as fast as so great a crowd would permit, and hurrying and flying in terrified flight in every direction to their respective prisons.

“The troop had now advanced within three yards of the prisoners, when Captain Shortland gave them orders to charge upon them. At the same time the prisoners had all got within their respective prison yards, and were flying with the greatest precipitation from the point of the bayonet, the doors being now full of the terrified crowd. They could not enter as fast as they wished. At this moment of dismay, Captain Shortland was distinctly heard to give orders to the troops to fire upon the prisoners, although now completely in his power, their lives at his disposal, and had offered no violence nor attempted to resist, and the gates all closed.

“The order was immediately obeyed by the soldiers, and they discharged a full volley of musketry into the main body of the prisoners on the other side of the iron railings which separated the prisoners from the soldiers. The volley was repeated for several rounds, the prisoners falling dead or wounded in several directions, while it was yet impossible for them to enter the prisons on account of the numbers that fled there from the rage of the bloodthirsty murderers.

“In the midst of this horrid slaughter, one man among the rear prisoners, with great presence of mind and undaunted courage, turned and advanced to the soldiers, amidst the fire of hundreds, and while his fellow prisoners were falling around him, and in a humble and suppliant manner implored mercy of Captain Shortland to spare his countrymen. He cried, ‘Oh, Captain! forbear--don’t kill us all.’ To this supplication the cruel inexorable Shortland replied, ‘Return, you d---- d rascal, I’ll hear to nothing.’ The soldiers then pricked him with their bayonets, which compelled him to retreat to the prison door, where the soldiers who had now entered the prison yard were pursuing and firing.

Where the unarmed American Prisoners of War were wantonly fired upon by the guard, under the command of the Prison Turn-key, the blood thirsty SHORLAND; Seven were killed, and about Fifty wounded, (several mortally,) without any provocation on the part of our unfortunate American Citizens!----“Blood has a voice to pierce the Skies!”]

“The soldiers advanced making a general massacre of men and boys, whom accident or inability had left without the doors of the prison; they advanced near to the crowded door, and instantly discharged another volley of musketry on the backs of those furthest out. This barbarous act was repeated in the presence of this inhuman monster, Shortland--and the prisoners fell, either dead or severely wounded, in all directions before his sight.

“But his vengeance was not glutted by the murder of innocent men and boys that lay weltering and bleeding in the agonies of death about the prison door, but turned and traversed the yard, and hunted a poor affrighted wretch that had fled for safety close under the walls of Prison No. 1. This unhappy man was discovered by these hell-hounds, with that demon at their head, and with cool and deliberate malice drew up their muskets to their shoulders and dispatched their victim in the act of imploring mercy from their hands. His only crime was not being able to get into the prison before without being shot.

“In the yard of No. 7 they found another hopeless victim crouching along the wall at the far end of the yard. Whereupon five of them drew up their instruments of death, and by the order of this fell murderer discharged their contents into the body of the innocent man.”

After this the soldiery were withdrawn.

The account by Andrews is tinctured with animosity, and is not to be taken _au pied de la lettre_. He is unquestionably wrong in stating that these two crouching men were shot by Shortland’s orders. The evidence taken later is contradictory. Shortland, by his own account, had already retired from the yard.

A dispatch was immediately sent to Admiral Sir J. T. Duckworth, Commander-in-Chief at Plymouth, who lost no time in directing Rear-Admiral Sir Josias Rowley, Bart., and Captain Schomberg, the two senior officers at that port, to proceed to Dartmoor and inquire into the circumstances.

It was ascertained that seven of the prisoners had been killed outright, seven were so badly wounded that they had to have legs or arms amputated, thirty-eight were dangerously wounded and fifteen slightly.

Before the two sent from Plymouth arrived, Shortland had asked for a reinforcement, and a colonel at the head of more troops arrived. “The colonel came to the gate attended by the guilty Shortland,” says Andrews, “who could not look a prisoner in the face, but walked towards the prison bars with his face fixed on the ground.”

The report of Sir J. Rowley and Captain Schomberg was to the effect that “the rioters endeavoured to overpower the guard, to force the prison, and had actually seized the arms of some of the soldiers and made a breach in the walls of the depôt, when the guard found itself obliged to have recourse to firearms, and five of the rioters were killed and thirty-four wounded ... that the Americans unanimously declared that their complaint of delay was not against the British Government, but against their own, which ought to have sent means for their early conveyance home; and in replies to distinct questions to that effect, they declared they had no ground of complaint whatever.” Governor Shortland, according to Andrews, in alarm lest the prisoners should attempt to retaliate on his family, hastily removed his wife and children from the Governor’s house. But, as Andrews asserts, such a dastardly thought as to revenge themselves on a woman and children never entered the heads of any of them--and this we may well believe.

_A. The Doctor’s House. B. The Governor’s House. C. Hospital. D. Petty Officer’s Prison. E. Passage between outer wall and railway. F.F.F. Turnkey’s Houses. G.G. Public Market and place where the prisoners receive their daily allowances, 1-7. Prisons_]

The prisoners now formed a committee to draw up an account of the circumstances, and to send it to the American agent, Beasley, for transmission to the Government of the United States. It is characterized, naturally, with bitterness and resentment, such as were felt in the heat of the moment.

It will be as well to give this textually.

“We the undersigned, being each severally sworn on the holy
Evangelists of Almighty God, for the investigations of the
circumstances attending the late Massacre, and having heard the
depositions of a great number of witnesses, from our own personal
knowledge, and from the depositions given in as aforesaid,

/Report as follows./

“That on the 6th of April, about 6 o’clock in the evening, when
the prisoners were all quiet in their respective yards, it being
about the usual time for turning in for the night, and the greater
part of the prisoners being then in the prisons, the alarm bell was
rung. Many of the prisoners ran up to the Market Square (the outer
court) to learn the occasion of the alarm. There were then drawn
up in the square several hundred soldiers, with Captain Shortland
at their head; it was likewise observed at the same time, that
additional numbers of soldiers were posting themselves round the
walls of the prison yard. One of them observed to the prisoners
that they had better go into the prisons, for they would be charged
upon directly. This, of course, occasioned considerable alarm among
them. In this moment of uncertainty they were running in different
directions, inquiring of each other what was the cause of the
alarm, some towards their respective prisons, and some towards
the Market Square. When about one hundred were collected in the
Market Square, Captain Shortland ordered the soldiers to charge
upon them; which orders the soldiers were reluctant in obeying,
as the prisoners were using no violence; but on the order being
repeated, they made a charge, and the prisoners retreated out of
the square into their respective prison yards, and shut the gates
after them. Captain Shortland himself opened the gates, and ordered
the soldiers himself to fire in among the prisoners, who were
all retreating in different directions towards their respective
prisons. It appears that there was some hesitation in the minds
of the officers whether or not it was proper to fire upon the
prisoners in that situation; on which Shortland seized a musket
out of the hands of a soldier, which he fired. Immediately after
the firing became general, and many of the prisoners were either
killed or wounded; the remainder were endeavouring to get into the
prisons, when, going towards the lower doors, the soldiers on the
walls commenced firing on them from that quarter, which killed some
and wounded others. After much difficulty (all the doors being
closed in the interim, but one in each prison), the survivors
succeeded in gaining the prisons. Immediately after which parties
of soldiers came to the doors of Nos. 3 and 4 prisons, fired
several volleys into them, through the windows and doors, killed
one man in each prison, and wounded severely several others. It
likewise appears that the preceding butchery was followed up with
a disposition of peculiar inveteracy and barbarity. One man, who
had been severely wounded in No. 7 yard, and being unable to make
his way to the prison, was come up with by the soldiers, whom he
implored for mercy, but in vain; _five_ of the hardened wretches
immediately levelled their pieces at him, and shot him dead! The
soldiers who were posted on the walls manifested equal cruelty, by
keeping up a constant fire on every prisoner they could see in the
yard endeavouring to get into the prisons, when the numbers were
very few, and when not the least shadow of resistance could be made
or expected. Several of them got into No. 6 prison cook-house,
which was pointed out by the soldiers on the walls to those who
were marching in from the square; they immediately went up and
fired into the same, which wounded several; one of the prisoners
ran out with the intention of gaining his prison, but was killed
before he reached the door.[41]

“On an impartial(!) consideration of all the circumstances of the
case, we are induced to believe it was a premeditated scheme in the
mind of Captain Shortland, for reasons which we will now proceed
to give. As an elucidation of its origin, we will recur back to an
event which happened some days previous. Captain Shortland was, at
that time, absent in Plymouth, but before going, he ordered the
contractor or his clerk to serve out one pound of indifferent hard
bread, instead of one pound and a half of soft bread, their usual
allowance. This the prisoners refused to receive. They waited all
day in expectation of their usual allowance being served out; but
at sunset, finding this would not be the case, they burst open the
lower gates, and went to the store, demanding to have their bread.
The officers of the garrison, on being alarmed, and informed of
the reasons of this proceeding, observed that it was no more than
right the prisoners should have their usual allowance, and strongly
reprobated the conduct of Captain Shortland in withholding it from
them. They were accordingly served with their bread, and quietly
returned to their prison. This circumstance, with the censures that
were thrown on his conduct, reached the ears of Shortland on his
return home, and he must then have determined on the diabolical
plan of seizing the first slight pretext to turn in the military
to butcher the prisoners, for the gratification of his malice and
revenge. It unfortunately happened that in the afternoon of the 6th
of April, some boys who were playing ball in No. 7 yard knocked
their ball into the barrack yard, and on the sentry in that yard
refusing to throw it back to them, they picked a hole through the
wall to get in after it. This afforded Shortland his wished-for
pretext, and he took his measures accordingly. He had all the
garrison drawn up in the military walk, additional numbers posted
on the walls, and everything prepared before the alarm bell was
rung. This, he naturally concluded, would draw the attention of a
great number of prisoners towards the gate to learn the cause of
the alarm, while the turnkeys were dispatched into the yards to
lock all the doors but one of each prison to prevent the prisoners
retreating out of the way before he had sufficiently wreaked his
vengeance.

“What adds particular weight to the belief of its being a
premeditated massacre are, _firstly_, The sanguinary disposition
manifested on every occasion by Shortland, he having, prior to
this time, ordered the soldiers to fire into the prisons, through
the windows, upon unarmed prisoners asleep in their hammocks, on
account of a light having been seen in the prisons, which barbarous
act was repeated several nights successively; that murder was not
committed was owing to an over-ruling Providence alone, for the
balls were picked up in the prisons, where they passed through
the hammocks of men asleep in them: he having ordered the soldiers
to fire upon the prisoners in the yard No. 7 prison, because they
would not deliver up to him a man who had made his escape from the
cachot, which order the Commanding Officer of the soldiers refused
to obey;[42] and generally he having seized on every slight pretext
to injure the prisoners, by his stopping the marketing for ten
days repeatedly, and once a third part of their provisions for the
same length of time. _Secondly_, He having been heard to say, when
the boys had picked the hole in the wall, and some time before
the alarm bell was rung, and while all the prisoners were quiet
in their respective yards as usual, ‘I’ll fix the d---- d rascals
directly.’ _Thirdly_, He having all the soldiers on their posts,
and the garrison fully prepared before the alarm bell was rung. It
could not of course then be done to assemble the soldiers, but to
alarm the prisoners and create confusion among them. _Fourthly_,
The soldiers on the wall, previous to the alarm bell being rung,
informing the prisoners that they would be charged upon directly.
_Fifthly_, The turnkeys going into the yard and closing all the
doors but one in each prison, whilst the attention of the prisoners
was attracted by the alarm bell. This was done about fifteen
minutes sooner than usual, and without informing the prisoners
it was time to shut up. It was ever the invariable practice of
the turnkeys, from which they never deviated before that night,
when coming into the yards to shut up, to halloo to the prisoners
so loud as to be heard all over the yards, ‘Turn in! turn in!’
while on that night it was done so secretly, that not one man in
a hundred knew they were shut, and in particular their shutting
the door of No. 7, which the prisoners usually go in and out at
(and which was formerly always the last one closed), and leaving
one open in the other end of the prison, which was exposed to a
cross-fire from the soldiers on the walls, and which the prisoners
had to pass in gaining the prison.

“It appears to us that the foregoing reasons sufficiently warrant
the conclusions we have drawn therefrom. We likewise believe,
from the depositions of men who were eye-witnesses of a part of
Shortland’s conduct on the evening of the 6th April, that he
was intoxicated with liquor at the time, from his brutality in
beating a prisoner, who was then supporting another, severely
wounded; from the blackguard and abusive language he made use of;
and from his having frequently been seen in the same state: his
being drunk was of course the means of inflaming his bitter enmity
against the prisoners, and no doubt was the principal cause of the
indiscriminate butchery, and of no quarter being shown.[43]

“We here solemnly aver, there was no preconcerted plan to attempt
breaking out. There cannot be produced the least shadow of a reason
or inducement for that intention, the prisoners daily expecting
to be released, and to embark on board cartels for their own
native country. And we solemnly assert, likewise, that there was
no intention of resisting, in any manner, the authority of the
government of this depôt.

“Signed by the Committee (ten names in all).

N.B.--7 were killed,
30 dangerously wounded,
30 slightly wounded.
--
Total 67 killed and wounded.

“_Dartmoor Prison_, April 7, 1815.”

Some points in the above account deserve comment. It is obvious that it is an entirely one-sided version of what took place. The committee do not mention that after the gates to the inner yard had been fastened, the prisoners pressing against it, and by means of some iron tool, broke the lock and burst the gate open. Nor do they state that the prisoners assailed the soldiery with abuse and with stones. They do not state that Shortland gave the order to fire--only that he fired the first shot. There is conflicting evidence relative to the order given; but there is good evidence that Shortland fired the first shot.

The charge of a prearranged massacre need not be seriously entertained. Apparently Shortland was thoroughly frightened and lost his head and acted with extraordinary indiscretion.

The order of events seems to have been this:--

1. A hole was knocked through a wall, not an outer wall of the prison, but one dividing the yards, by some boys after their ball. This was reported to the Governor, who was alarmed, and fancied that an attempt was being made by the prisoners to get at a few stacks of arms; but there was no ammunition in the guard-house. There was a sentinel in the yard, and there were soldiers about. That this hole-breaking was done by the boys was proved afterwards by evidence taken. The hole was knocked in open daylight and in the afternoon, so that there could have been no sinister object contemplated.