magistrate; the objects of their wrath are some policeman who has sworn
falsely, or some other witness who has committed perjury or betrayed
them; and we may naturally seek to inquire why the prison judge is not
as favourably regarded as his learned brother who holds open court? I
believe the reason is this, that a prison director can starve and flog
and retain prisoners in confinement for years, according to the length
of their respective remissions, and none but those directly interested
in full and quiet prisons know anything about it. If the governor and
directors of prisons had to dispense justice in presence of a reporter
for the press, how great would be the reformation immediately effected.
To the prisoner it would also be welcome, for if it ensured him of
nothing else but civility it would be a boon. A civil word goes a long
way with a convict, and it is so seldom he gets one from the chiefs of
prisons that he is apt to place a value upon it beyond its real worth.

CHAPTER XVII.

A NEW GOVERNOR--BREAD-AND-WATER JACK--SEVERE PUNISHMENTS--DIRECTORS
AGAIN--A HERB DOCTOR--EXTRAORDINARY STORY.

During my second stay in hospital the governor from another prison came
to rule over our establishment. He was known to most of the prisoners
as "Bread and Water Jack," some called him "Captain Spooney," some "the
Lurcher," and others "Mr. Martinet." The patients had just completed
their out-of-door exercise, and were standing in file two deep when he
first made his appearance. Some of the prisoners whispered, "That's the
new governor," and the sound having reached his official ear, the order
was issued "Now you men, you must understand there is to be no talking
in the ranks when I pass you." Almost every week some fresh order
issued from the new governor, and the following may be taken as a fair
example of the weighty matters which troubled the official head, and
afford a very good idea of its qualifications for disposing of them.

"Prisoners must roll their neckerchiefs twice round their necks and tie
them in a particular way," and the way is then described.

"Prisoners must walk three abreast round the parade, and not pass each
other in walking."

"Prisoners must be sure to keep their hands out of their pockets in the
coldest days."

"Prisoners must not neglect to salute the governor when he passes
them."

"Prisoners must walk only two abreast instead of three abreast, as
formerly ordered."

"The spoons and platters must be placed in this particular way." And
next week the order came to have the spoons and platters placed in
exactly the opposite way!

"Prisoners' hair must be cropped shorter; they must not go to bed so
soon as they have done: they must cease talking at work," and so on.

These were the principal orders issued, and attempted to be carried
out. I say attempted, for some of them were regularly evaded or broken
by the prisoners, and winked at by the officers. These were the orders
that were expected to be instrumental in converting thieves into honest
men! Whatever opinion might be formed of their probable efficacy out of
doors, or of the sanity of the man who sat in his office and scrawled
them out, the thieves themselves mocked and ridiculed them, and called
the small-minded military man set over them a "Barmey"[20] humbug. "What
does it matter," they would say to each other, "how we walk? What does
it matter whether our neck-ties be once or twice round? Why don't they
teach us to get an honest living and show us a good example? What good
will all this humbugging do us? We don't want to come into such places
if they will only let us live when we are out. Why don't they find us
work and try to keep us out of prison?" "Ah! that would spoil their own
trade," someone would reply. Such criticisms passed between the
prisoners on these new orders, with an accompaniment of oaths which I
cannot repeat.

      [20] Insane.

The punishment for prison offences now became more severe under the new
governor, and the following may be taken as fair examples of the manner
in which this class of offenders were dealt with. A convict just about
due for his liberation had half-an-inch of tobacco given him by another
prisoner. The officer happened to notice the gift, went to the
prisoner, found the contraband article upon him, and took him before
the governor. That gentleman sentenced him to ten days in the
refractory cells, and recommended him to the prison director for the
loss of his gratuity and three months' remission. The unfortunate
prisoner was by-and-bye called up and informed that in addition to the
governor's sentence he was condemned to lose all his gratuity money,
which amounted to about 3_l._, and three months of his remission.
Two sentences for one offence were getting very common, but this
prisoner happened to be one of those who cared very little about
liberty, and received the information very coolly. As soon as he was
out of the cells he had his "snout" again as usual, but he was
"chaffed" a good deal by his "pals" for neglecting to swallow the quid
when he saw the officer coming to him. One of the hospital nurses (a
convict) got punished, though not quite so severely, for appropriating
to his own use a mutton chop that he was ordered to carry to the pigs.
At that time the authorities kept swine, who got all the food the
patients could not eat, but now it is sold. The prisoner thought, I
presume, that the chop would do a hungry man more good than it would an
over-fed pig. Another prisoner was sentenced twice for having an onion
on his person. One of his fellow-prisoners who was working among these
luxuries gave him one, and as the officer in charge had a grudge
against him, he was taken before the governor, who gave him ten days'
punishment, to which the director afterwards considerately added three
months! Such offences as these were of daily occurrence, but the
punishments for them when detected were very unequal.

It is not often a convict is flogged, but it does happen occasionally.
I remember a young rollicking Irishman being flogged for attempting to
strike an officer, who, as often happens, was far more to blame than
the prisoner, who in this case was goaded and tempted to strike. The
majority of the officers--who are civil and sensible men, considering
their position in society--would have acted very differently.

Another case, where the prisoner not only attempted but did actually
strike his warder rather severely, met with a more lenient punishment.
In this case the prisoner was decidedly to blame, and his punishment,
in technical language, was "six months in chokey with the black dress
and slangs."

These cases were usually disposed of by the director at his monthly
sitting. That gentleman--who was fond of having nothing to
do--generally spent about twenty-four hours in prison per annum, spread
over eleven visits of an average duration of two hours each. Latterly
it was rather difficult for a prisoner to get to see him, and quite
impossible if he had a complaint to make against any of the officials,
which they thought he could establish. I have often thought that this
gentleman's duties could be performed more satisfactorily for a less
salary than one thousand pounds per annum!

Before leaving the hospital, I will now relate a few of the
conversations I had with some of the patients.

"How long have you been unwell?"

"About fifteen months."

"What is the matter with you?"

"Oh! my health has been ruined by the treatment I received in the
Scotch prison before trial."

"How long were you detained waiting trial?"

"Six months."

"Have you been to the public works?"

"Yes, I was at Chatham; but my strength and constitution gave way, and
for a working man I am now ruined for life."

"Did you enjoy your health before you got into prison?"

"I was never a day unwell, and was as stout and as fit for work as any
man in the country."

"What will you do when you get out of prison?"

"God knows! I suppose I shall have to go to the workhouse. I am very
willing to work, but if I don't mend I shall never be able to handle a
tool again."

Another case--

"How long have you been ailing?"

"Ten months."

"What is the matter with you?"

"Oh! I am dying fast. I was seven months in a Scotch jail before trial,
and that is what is killing me."

This prisoner died a few days after he uttered these words. His last
hours were spent in humming over a Scotch ballad he had learnt when a
child.

Another case--

"Well, what's your sentence?"

"Five years."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"What did you do outside?"

"I was born in a workhouse, and lived in it for thirteen years, and I
have now been nine years in prison; so that I have not had much liberty
to do anything at all."

"What do you intend doing when you get out this time?"

"I think I shall go hawking bits of things through the country."

"I am afraid you will find it difficult to make a living at hawking?"

"Well I have the prison to come to, where I'll always get my grub."

This prisoner had a delicate constitution, and in his case "hard
labour" was a meaningless sentence, and imprisonment was no punishment
to him whatever. To have made it more severe would have been all the
same to him, as the hospital would then have been his perpetual abode.
Some prisoners were in hospital nearly the whole of their sentence. One
prisoner lay in bed with paralysis upwards of four years, and had to be
lifted out to have his bed arranged several times a day: if he had been
paid to commit a crime he could not have done it.

Another prisoner was in hospital all the years I was in prison, and had
been so for several years previous to my arrival. I only remember his
being in bed a few days on one occasion. I was much interested in
another patient, who ultimately died in prison, and whose history was
rather a singular one. I shall narrate it as he gave it to me:--

"I am what is called a herbalist, or herb doctor. I was brought up in a
workhouse, my parents having died when I was quite a child. I had a
great many brothers and sisters, all of whom died young. I had a very
delicate constitution, and was thought at one time to be dying of the
same disease as carried off my mother and sisters. The doctors gave me
up as being beyond their skill. Well, I had begun to study medical
botany by this time, and I at last discovered herbs that cured me. I
now thought of curing others, and began first with some children
belonging to poor people. I succeeded in almost every case, and as I
charged nothing at all for the medicines, I was called out by all the
poor people in the neighbourhood.

"At last my practice began to interfere with my employment as a weaver,
and my master told me that he was willing to keep me and advance my
wages, but I was on no account to have anything more to do in curing
the sick. Well, I went round my circle of friends to ask their advice,
and they unanimously agreed to support me among them rather than be
deprived of my assistance. I accordingly gave up my place and opened a
herb shop. I studied the properties of herbs constantly. I had no taste
for any other employment. I tried the effects of all of them on myself
first of all, and sometimes on my wife, before I decided on using them,
and I daresay I may have done too much in this way in order to be able
to assure my patients that I had first taken a dose myself. I have read
all the books on the subject, in addition to my own practical
experience; and I will not yield the palm to anyone for having a
knowledge of herbs--I mean as to their medical properties. Well, I
continued in my first shop for about nine years, got married, and had a
comfortable home. About this time a clergyman of my acquaintance
happened to be removing to another county, a considerable distance from
the town where I lived, and as I had cured his wife after all the
regular doctors had given the case up as hopeless, he offered me
52_l._ per annum if I would go to the same place as he was removing to
and open a shop there, and I agreed. I was unfortunate the first year
in not getting many patients, and began to regret that I had left my
old abode. But by-and-bye the news of my cures spread abroad in the
neighbourhood, and I soon had as many patients as I could attend to. I
never advertised a line, and yet I had patients as far away as
Scotland. Ultimately my patients extended to the middle classes, and
that was what brought me here. So long as I confined my labours to the
poor, the regular doctors did not interfere with me, but when I began
to take away their paying patients by the half-dozen, they tried all
they could to damage my character, and get me out of the district."

"What is your sentence?"

"Seven years, and I'll tell you how I got it. I sold a mixture composed
of four different herbs, which is the most effectual medicine for
certain diseases peculiar to females; in fact, it is invaluable to
young unmarried women subject to the complaint I refer to, but,
unfortunately for me, it has also the effect of procuring abortion.
Well, one day a young woman came to me and wished to purchase some of
this medicine. I had cured an unmarried female of her acquaintance, but
before giving her the medicine I cautioned her not to take it if she
was _enciente_, as it would procure abortion. The female who now
applied to me wished it for that very purpose; her husband was a
sailor, she had been faithless in his absence, and she now wished to
keep him in ignorance of her sin. All this, however, I learned only
when too late. I refused to sell the woman the medicine, as I could
see she was married. On being refused, she went to an old woman whose
daughter had taken the medicine, and offered her 3_l._ if she would get
her some of it. Of course, I was not aware of this when the old woman
came to me and asked me for some more of the medicine for her daughter,
as she said. I sold her the medicine, which she gave to the sailor's
wife. It had the desired effect, and she was well and going about in a
couple of days. Her husband now returned, and the old woman demanded
the 3_l._, which the sailor's wife refused to pay. Determined not
to be beaten, she went to the husband and told him all about it. He
called in doctors to report on the case, which they did, adding that
instruments had been used, which was altogether false. The medicine was
easily traced to me. Where I was wrong was, in not having a written
statement from everyone to whom I sold the herbs, in order to have
protected myself against any such charge as was now brought against me.
The doctors, no doubt, believed that instruments had been used, because
they do not know the particular herbs at all, and no one in England
knows them but myself and I do not intend to let many know either--it's
dangerous knowledge; but, as God is my judge, I never used it wilfully
except for the relief of a disease that carries thousands of our
countrywomen to the grave in the very prime of youth. I have been
called to cases over and over again, after all the doctors had given
them up, and I have often restored the pale hectic young woman, in an
advanced stage of consumption, to health and vigour, by the simple use
of herbs--the best of God's gifts to man!"

"What diseases were you most successful with?"

"There is one disease I could never cure, and that's ossification of
the heart, but in the great majority of other diseases I succeeded
wonderfully. Sometimes, of course, I would be called to a consumptive
patient within a few days or hours of his death, when life was so low
as to render it impossible for the medicine to be taken."

"What do you think of the cold-water system and homoeopathy?"

"The cold water may do for some diseases and for some patients only,
but it is nonsense to think to cure all diseases in one way. I am not a
quack. In America there are colleges for teaching my system of curing
disease, regular teachers of medical botany. As for homoeopathy, I
think very little of it. I have known it succeed in cholera cases
sometimes, however, as well as the allopathy. When patients have very
little the matter with them, homoeopathy, or any other 'pathy' they
have confidence in, does all very well, and it fills the purses of the
practitioners, but when real rooted disease has to be encountered, the
herbs that God has given for the use of man are the only trustworthy
means by which to effect a cure. To give you an idea how many are
'gulled,' I may say robbed, by regular doctors, I will give you the
particulars of two cases which happened within my own personal
knowledge. Two men were seized with the same fever, and to all
appearance the patients were about equal in health, strength, and age.
I was called to one, and a regular doctor to the other. The doctor
allowed the fever to come to its height, as it is called. He made
frequent visits, ran up as large a bill as he thought would be duly
paid, and in three or four weeks the patient was at his employment. My
patient was at his work in three days, and all it cost him was a few
shillings!"

"How did you manage to cure him so speedily?"

"I never allow fevers to come to the height; I strike at the root of
the disease. If you were going to build up a house that was out of
repair and encumbered with rubbish, you would naturally clear away the
rubbish first and then begin your repairs. Well, that is just how I go
to work with disease. Every pore of the skin must be cleansed, opened,
and stimulated to action. The stomach must be thoroughly emptied and
cleansed by a particular herb, and the bowels must be effectually
treated in the same way. The house cleansed, I begin my repairs, which
consist in aiding Nature with the most powerful assistance given us by
Nature's God for that purpose, and the work is soon completed. I would
undertake to cure 100 out of the 150 patients here in a fortnight."

"Do you think you could cure yourself?"

"If I had two herbs here I could prolong my days for a long time, I
most thoroughly believe, but they can never touch my disease the way
they go on here--I am dying by inches."

This prisoner (now dead) was quite an enthusiast about herbs, and
succeeded in imparting confidence in his abilities to the officers as
well as the majority of the prisoners. He was to all appearance a man
of good principles, and a Christian. How far his own statements
regarding his crime can be relied on, I cannot say, but that he
succeeded in raising himself from being a poor weaver to be a
money-making and successful herb doctor, I know to be correct. I have
noticed his case chiefly in order to remark that he turned a good many
of the prisoners into pill sellers and incipient quacks, but he never
would tell them about the abortion medicine although he gave them
prescriptions for almost all diseases. I saw them all, and know the
herbs had at least the merit of being innocent. Had he been less
honest, and had the herbs which he prescribed been poisonous, I fancy
that a good many of Her Majesty's faithful, loyal, and gullible
subjects would, long ere now, have returned to the dust from whence
they sprang.

CHAPTER XVIII.

IN PRISON AGAIN--I SEE THE PRISON DIRECTOR FOR THE LAST
TIME--GENTLEMEN-PRISONERS--A WILL FORGER--A "WARNING TO
OTHERS"--FENIANS--TREATMENT OF POLITICAL PRISONERS--ANOTHER
JAILBIRD.

Having recruited my strength in hospital, I was again discharged to
resume my work in prison. Shortly after my return to my old quarters, I
thought I would inform my friends that some of the companions I met
with at the commencement of my prison career, who had longer sentences
than I had, had been fortunate enough to obtain their liberty, and, in
addition, a free passage to Western Australia--which was worth about
20_l._--and that I wished them to try and do something to aid me
in my race for liberty. But my letter was again suppressed, and not
being able by this means to inform my friends of my wishes, I entered
my name once more as being desirous to see the director. I anticipated
meeting the regular visiting director, who very rarely refused a
prisoner the privilege of writing a petition to the Home Secretary, if
he had allowed the usual time (twelve months) to elapse since he had
obtained the privilege before. But I was even in this doomed to
disappointment, and instead of the director I expected to see, I found
myself confronted by the old sinister-looking friend I had been
introduced to on a former occasion. I told him on making my humble
request that I had not petitioned the Home Secretary for several years,
that, in fact, I had not petitioned on the merits of my case at all,
and that I would feel grateful if he would extend to me the privilege,
usually granted to all well-conducted prisoners, of petitioning the
Home Secretary.

Conscience did not seem to be utterly powerless within him, for his
eyes would not meet mine, they remained fixed on the desk before him;
but his head shook, and his lips muttered, "No." I pleaded for a moment
in beseeching tones which might have softened a heart of stone, but
Bassanio's appeal to Shylock was not more futile than mine to him. The
words and gesture with which my suppliant attitude was spurned, roused
all the manhood in me, and for an instant I felt as if I were a free
man and addressing my equal, and in language at once dignified and
firm, I requested a sheet of paper that I might appeal to the Board of
Directors. My altered mien and tone of voice, so unexpected, so unusual
in that secret court, arrested him; his hand trembled, he looked as
Felix might have done when he first heard of "righteousness, temperance
and judgment to come." My request was granted, and my last interview
with a prison director had come and gone. Two days afterwards I wrote a
letter to the board of directors, in suitable language, and addressed
to the chairman of the board, preferring my request. Month after month
passed away, but I waited for a reply in vain. At one time I would have
felt both surprised and annoyed that no notice had been taken of my
letter, but now I knew that I had only experienced the usual treatment
which prisoners receive who have justice on their side. I had now made
three, and only three requests to the officials during my prison
career, and all these had been denied, and I resolved to prefer no
more. I gave my mind healthy exercise in the composition of verses,
when I was not otherwise employed, and to a great extent forgot my
troubles in my puny flight to obtain a sight of the poets' mountain.

The last year of my imprisonment was marked by the arrival of a number
of Fenians, and the departure for freedom of one or two of the very few
prisoners whose society had been a pleasure to me. One of these had
been the editor and proprietor of an influential country newspaper, and
his crime was very similar to my own. He was a man of deep thought, and
far, very far, from being a criminal at heart. He was the best educated
man I met with in prison, and eminently qualified for writing a
treatise on the prevention of crime. The other had been in business in
London, and had brought up a large and respectable family. Having been
accustomed to mix in the society of some of the most eminent of the
city merchants and bankers, his company in such a place as a prison was
a great acquisition. After the departure of these two prisoners I had
only one intimate and intelligent companion left. His case excited my
sympathy, inasmuch as he was a very humble and penitent man, with a
sentence of penal servitude for life. A sentence, I believe, inflicted
not so much for the crime, but on account of the position the prisoner
formerly occupied in society, and "as a warning to others." This is a
formula which, in many cases, is made to sanction monstrous injustice,
and in all cases, I may say, is practically inoperative. The only
parties warned by the fall and punishment of such an one as the
prisoner I here refer to, are those in the same respectable position in
life, because they are the only parties who have it in their power to
commit the same crime. The punishment cannot warn those who are not in
and cannot attain to the position which makes the crime possible, and
who could not find the opportunity to commit it, even if they were paid
to seek it; then why punish such men as this prisoner the more
severely, because he was in that position?

I know it is urged in opposition to that view, that such men ought to
know better, that they have no excuse, and so on, but we must bear in
mind that all who do wrong know it, the poor and the ignorant as well
as the rich and educated, unless they are of unsound mind. Then again,
do those in a good position in society require more warning than those
who have no character or position to lose? It would be difficult, I
think, for anyone to maintain that position! The fact is, that
conviction merely, without any subsequent punishment at all, would be a
much more effective warning to the former class than the gallows even
would be to the latter! The thief plies his trade while the scaffold
frowns overhead, it does not deter him, but the lynx eye of a policeman
would, even although the penalty was a months' imprisonment instead of
the rope. As I have already more than once asserted, it is the fear of
_being caught_ that deters the thief, and this fear increases and
intensifies as we ascend the social ladder; in the case of all first
offenders of the law, the punishment is an after-thought, and on that
account, as well as on higher grounds, we ought to temper justice with
mercy in dealing with all first offenders, more especially with those
who offend against property only.

In the case of the prisoner referred to, his crime would not have
enriched him more than about twenty pounds, had he succeeded in
escaping detection. He committed will-forgery, and of course although
the amount was small, still it was a great crime, but I think there
might be other methods found for punishing such crimes than dooming the
man who commits them to perpetual slavery. I take no notice of the fact
that the prisoner in this case maintained his innocence, I assume that
he was guilty, and I consider his sentence to be unjust and
inexpedient. It is true that this man once sat on the bench and
dispensed justice himself; it is also true that he once entertained the
Queen of Great Britain in his own house, and these facts to some extent
determined the severity of his sentence; I find in them additional
reasons for leniency, inasmuch as only a very feeble warning is
necessary to prevent men in the position he occupied, and exposed to
the same temptation, from following in his steps.

I may now refer to the Fenians, of whom there were six who came to the
prison during the last year of my incarceration. They formed a class of
prisoners quite distinct from all the others, and their crime being
also essentially different, the observation I have made with reference
to the proper treatment of ordinary criminals do not apply to them. In
the phraseology of the convicts, they were a "rum lot."

They took rank between the "Aristoes," and the "Democrats," and formed
an "Irish Brigade." One of them died soon after his arrival: two of
then were head-centres, and enthusiastic in the rebel cause, another
was a literary man, Irish to the backbone, but ready to write for money
on any side of politics. The remaining two were soldiers: one an
American infidel, who cursed Catholics and Fenians alike for getting
him into trouble. He called the Pope, the King-of-the-beggars;
quarrelled with the literary Fenian on the subject of religion, and
true to his profession, enforced his arguments by giving his opponent
what the convicts called a punch in the ear-hole, and extracting the
claret from the most prominent feature in his "counting-house."
According to the literary man, Ireland had one great grievance, and if
that were remedied the Emerald Isle would grow greener than ever. "It
is a splendid country," he said "for growing tobacco, and if the Irish
were allowed to grow that fashionable weed they would be the most
prosperous of peoples." A vulgar Scotchman suggested that Ireland would
be all right if the Irish were "Scotched," and the Fenians all roasted
on a gridiron. The irascible Irishman replied that a Scotchman was the
incarnation of impudence--and hereupon a war of words ensued, until the
officers' attention was attracted and brought it to an abrupt
conclusion. The two head-centres appeared to be intelligent men, but
very unlikely to raise the standard, or maintain the dignity of an
Irish Republic.

One of them was said to be their ablest writer, but the other appeared
the most loyal and enthusiastic Fenian of them all.

With respect to the punishment of political offenders, the system of
restitution which I have advocated would not be suitable, nor would
imprisonment in the county prisons answer well. I should not object to
government acting as jailers over such men, but they ought to be
confined in a prison where they could exercise all their faculties for
their own support, and their sentences should be the "Queen's
pleasure". Some of those in prison might be liberated at once, others
not until the rebellion had been completely extinguished; and the
government, not the judge, should regulate the period of their
confinement. It may be said that the government have power to liberate
such men now, when they choose, which is true enough, but suppose that
the rebellion lasts, or breaks out afresh in four or five years, and
one of the most dangerous members of the fraternity becomes due for his
liberation, they have no power to retain him. This power they ought to
possess in all cases where the sacrifice of human life has been
perpetrated, attempted, or contemplated. I would not allow this
exceptional treatment of political prisoners to interfere, however,
with the fundamental principle I have laid down of making all our
prisons self-supporting.

I return to my numerous companions, the "regular" convicts, and the
following specimens of some of them whom I met during my last months in
prison may not be uninteresting. One day I opened the conversation with
a regular jail-bird, who had promised me some particulars of his
history some time before.

"Well, you promised to give me a little bit of your history this
morning, are you ready to begin?"

"Oh! I don't know where to begin, and I have seen so many ups and
downs, or rather so many downs and downs again, that I could not tell
you a quarter of my history."

"When did you begin to steal first?"

"When I was a kid; I was sent errands by my mother, she gave me money
to buy things for her, and I cheated her often, and a fellow that
cheats his mother, you know, is rather a hopeful youth. But to tell you
the truth I was partly spoiled by my mother, for she allowed me to do
as I liked, and when I grew up I became acquainted with others like
myself, and from prigging apples out of gardens I got to prigging
pockets, and from that I got to be a 'screwsman' and a 'cracksman.' My
first long sentence was seven years' transportation, and I never did a
day's punishment hardly. In those days the 'legs' went on board ship at
once, and were liberated or handed over to a master almost as soon as
they arrived. Well, I completed my time, was two years a whaler, and
went and settled in New Zealand, and that was the time I had most luck.
I was a brick-maker, and made money as fast as I had a mind almost. I
remained in New Zealand about fourteen years, and since I came home I
have never had a day's luck; I went on the 'cross,' and got four years;
after I had finished that bit, I went and lived with a 'moll' I knew,
and spent all my money. When it was done I went out to look for work,
and met with a young fellow who knew what sort of a 'bloke' I was, so
he says 'You are just the fellow I want, Bill; my master goes to the
bank to-morrow morning, and draws the wages money, after he draws it he
puts it in a drawer in his desk, and then goes out for about an hour,
and leaves the office without anyone in it. I have got two keys for the
door and the desk, but as I would be found out if I attempted to take
the cash, I will give you the keys, and we will divide the spoil. As
soon as the way is clear I will hang out a handkerchief and then you
will know that all is right.' Well I took the keys, and went to the
factory at the hour named, I waited some little time, and at last I saw
the signal agreed upon. Up I goes to the door, as if I had a right to
the place, marched boldly into the office, and before you could say
'Jack Robinson' I had the bag full of cash. Well, off I bolts to my
lodging, changed my clothes, and counts nearly one hundred pounds. I
got the half, as arranged, and never wrought a day's work till all was
spent--I spent about one pound per day. After that I took to hawking,
and I might have made a living at it but I got drunk, did a place over,
and got caught in the act, and here I am."

"How many robberies may you have committed?"

"Goodness knows! with the exception of the time I was in New Zealand
I've been always on the 'cross.'"

"What was the largest you ever got?"

"Five hundred pounds."

"I understand, most of these large robberies are 'put up' jobs, like
the one you have mentioned?"

"Yes, most of them are; the risk would be too great if that was not the
case."

"Have you ever been flogged?"

"Yes, severely."

"How did you like it?"

"Like it! why not at all, of course; who would like a flogging?"

"Would the chance of getting another flogging not deter you from
committing another crime?"

"I would as soon be 'topt' as be flogged now, because a good bashing
would kill me; but no fear of punishment would deter me, if I saw my
way clear to get off. I never do a job until I feel certain I'll
escape. If I'm caught that's my fault, and I must chance the
punishment, whatever it may be. Another 'legging' would kill me, but if
I cannot get a living at hawking I will be forced to go on the 'cross,'
and 'God help the man that tries to catch me.' These places are getting
so hot that a fellow had better commit murder and be 'topt' at once."

"If you had a safe where would you place it to be most secure?"

"In the street, and then your servants couldn't put you away."

"How would you carry your gold watch if you had one?"

"Well, I would have one with a patent bow, and I would take care not to
flash my chain. If you keep your chain out of sight you are pretty safe
as long as you are sober, and every man who gets drunk ought to lose
his watch; the thief should get a reward for doing that job. It's safer
of course to carry the watch in the fob than in the waistcoat pocket,
particularly if the chain is exposed, but it can easily be taken from
any part, if the chain is seen, unless you have a catch in your pocket
to hold it. You know the way we do is to twist the bow of the watch and
it breaks in a second."

"What do you get for a watch, usually?"

"From three to six pounds, according to the value of the watch."

"That seems a very low price to get for a good gold watch?"

"Yes, but five pounds, I assure you, is considered a good price by the
man who stands 'fence,' and if a fellow can get eight or ten in a day
he may do very well at that, but I have not done any 'buzzing' for a
long time, I am too old for that game, and I can't afford to run a risk
for five pounds. This hot work in prison will make thieves look after
larger stakes."

"I would recommend you very strongly to go on the square when you get
out, and not on the cross; you might easily make a better living by
hawking than at this weary work, at all events."

"I mean to go on the square as long as I can do without working, I am
not able for hard work and I do not intend to do any more, neither in
nor out of prison; but if I can't make a living honestly you may be
sure I shall not starve."

CHAPTER XIX.

PRISONERS' CONVERSATIONS--LARRY AND TIM GET INTO CHOKEY--BIG
CROPPY--WHAT PAT GETS "IN FOR"--MALICIOUS GAMBLING--PAT'S PATENT
FOR GETTING A NEW COAT--DICK'S EXPLOITS--NED'S ADVENTURES AND
ESCAPES--A NEW SCREW ARRIVES--A PRISONER EMPTIES THE WINE CUP
AT THE ALTAR--NED, DICK, AND PAT'S OPINION ABOUT BADGES,
CLASSIFICATION, HEAD BLOKES, PRISONERS' AID SOCIETY, AND THE
IRISH SYSTEM.

The following are specimens of the conversations which take place among
the prisoners as they meet in the ordinary course of their prison
employment. They were quite unaware that there was anyone near
listening to them, or taking more than an ordinary interest in their
remarks to each other, and my report may be taken as a perfectly
accurate representation of ordinary convict conversation and
phraseology.

"Well, Dick, how are you?"

"Oh! pretty well, Ned, how's yourself?"

"Well, I'm among the middlings only. That beastly bad cheese they gave
us yesterday hasn't agreed with me, and I think I shall hook it up to
the 'farm'[21] for a week or two, and get a change of diet before going
home. I am only waiting to get a bit of 'snout,' and then I shall send
in a sick report. Have you heard what Larry and Tim have got this
morning? Larry's got three days' bread and water, seven days'
penal-class diet, and 'blued' fourteen days' remission; and Tim's got
three days."

      [21] Hospital.

"Well, Larry partly deserves it. He was a fool to let the 'screw' see
he had the 'snout;' but what was Tim's offence?"

"Speaking to a fellow in the ranks, and merely saying 'It was a fine
morning;' he'll get turned out of the cook-house, too. It's a ----
shame, when other fellows talk away in the ranks every day. I say, what
day do you go home?"

"I ought to go on the 2nd, but these ---- licenses will be late again,
no doubt, and very likely I shall not go before the 10th or 20th of the
month. Have you any message for me to carry out?"

"Do you remember 'Big Croppy?'"

"Yes."

"Well, he's been to my wife since he went out, and told her all manner
of lies. He's told her that I accuse her of going with another man, and
she has been to my mother and told her that she is not going to write
to me any more, nor to live with me again. I have been to ask for a
special sheet of paper to write and tell them that it is all lies
Croppy has told them; but the ---- governor won't grant me paper. So,
as I am not due to write for nearly three months, I wish you would call
on my mother and my wife, and tell them how things stand."

"I will, you may depend upon that, and I'll get some 'bloke' to give
Croppy a pair of black eyes for his pains, the ---- swine."

"Here comes Pat.--Well, Pat, have you heard that Larry and Tim have
gone to chokey?"

"Yes," replied Pat; "but what screw reported Tim?"

"That leather-skinned cranky old terrier over there reported Tim, and
the 'bloke' with the peg-top whiskers reported Larry."

"Bad 'cess to the 'terrier!' I have a good mind to punch him in the
ear-hole."

"That would fetch a bashing, Pat."

"Troth, and I've had a bashing once afore, and what I've had once I can
do with agin."

"Did you holloa when you were bashed?"

"Holloa! by the piper, I sang out--

    'The seeds of repentance, how can they take root,
    When I'm ruled by a tyrant and flogged like a brute;
    The plant of revenge is more likely to sprout
    When such monsters of jailers go strutting about.'

"And I called them all the horrid names I could think on, and they were
wild when they saw I was game."

"Where were you bashed?"

"At Bermuda; and by the piper, they once flogged men before the altar
there, and then called the prisoners into chapel and preached to them
about forgiving one another, and showing mercy to one another, the ----
hypocrites."

"What are you here for this time?"

"Oh, nothing at all. I am like the bloke in the song--

    'One day as I passed I looked into the kitchen,
      Where I saw a pot boiling, but not for poor Pat;
    For love and for thieving I'd always an itchin',
      So I took out the mutton and put in the cat.'"

"I understand there was a great many unnatural crimes committed at
Bermuda?"

"Oh! shocking. The young lads would go about with their pockets full of
money, and their hair decked up like girls. It was disgusting, 'pon my
word; and do you know what the authorities called it when cases were
brought before them?"

"No."

"Why, 'malicious gambling.' That was to deceive the public, you know.
There was plenty of 'snout' knocking about in all the prisons in those
days, and a fellow hadn't to go a day without a taste as he has to do
now sometimes. We used to have lots of rum at Bermuda, as well as
'snout,' and first-rate liquor, too. By the piper! I wish I had a drop
now."

"How much could you do with?"

"A wee drop in a bucket, about two hoops up. The last time I'd a drop
o' rum in me, do you know what I did? I had on a very shabby coat, all
torn at the elbows, and only one tail to it, so I spied a country bloke
with his girl, dressed out in new toggery. I says to my pal, 'I say,
O'Shockady, there's a new coat on that bloke's back that I must have on
mine; he is just about my size. You go up and be messing about with his
girl, and you'll see he will guard and offer to fight. You take off
your coat and put up your 'props' to him, and get him to strip also.
Well, I'll come up and see fair play, and while you're at the fists
I'll leave my tog and take his, d'ye twig?' Well, up O'Shockady went,
and, my crikey! if you had seen how the bloke fired up when his girl
was insulted! why, his coat was off in a jiffey, and it was soon
farther off than he could catch, I can tell you. After I got round the
corner O'Shockady gave in to the bloke and bolted, leaving him in his
shirt-sleeves to escort the girl."

"That reminds me," said Dick, "of an affair I was once in. When I was a
lad I ran away from home. I was afraid to go back, lest I should get a
bashing. At that time there was a woman in the High Street of
Edinburgh, who took in lads situated as I was, and made them go out and
steal, to pay her for their lodging. There were about twenty of us in
the house at the time I went; some of them wenches and some of them
young chaps like myself. Well, one night we were rather hard up and we
wanted a good feed, so five or six of us set out, along with a great
stout fellow, and we actually stole a whole sheep that was hanging at a
butcher's door, and the big chap swagged it home. The old woman had it
put in the bed, and covered it with the bed-clothes, as if it was a
sick person; and the 'bobbies' found it there before she had time to
get it cooked for us, and, by jingo! we were all marched up to the
'lock-up' over it. Well, I got thirty days over that job. When I came
out of jail I went to a fair in the neighbourhood, and I prigged a
countryman's 'poke' as he was standing at one of those barrows where
they shoot for nuts; and, by the piper! the 'copper' saw me and marched
me off to the station. But just before coming out of the crowd I got
twisted round a little behind the 'bobby,' and I passed the purse into
his pocket. Well, off we marched to the station, and when we arrived
there the policeman swore that I stole a purse, and that I had it on
me, as he saw me put it into my pocket. They searched me, but of course
found nothing, and I got off. Determined not to lose the 'poke,' which
had a good many 'quids' in it, I watched the 'copper,' and prigged it
out of his pocket again. It was the same 'bobby' as got me this bit,
and I told him then all about it."

"I once," chimed in Ned, "buzzed a woman on the 'fly,' and got her poke
with eighteen bob in it; she soon missed it, and I saw her go into a
shop, and watched her crying to the shopkeeper and telling him that she
had got all her husband's earnings for the week stolen. Well, I knew
she was a poor woman by that, and I went up and asked her if she had
lost a purse, as I had found one. She said she had, and I gave it to
her again. Now, mind you, I was very hard up at the time, but I don't
hold with stealing from poor people. Men that have more than they know
what to do with in a country where thousands are starving, ought to
have some of it taken from them: that I call 'fairation.' I once
prigged a priest's pocket, and he collared me and said, 'Well, if you
think you have a better right to that purse than I have, you may keep
it.' 'Well, sir,' I said, 'I'm very hard up, and as there are only a
few shillings in it I hope you will allow me to keep them,' and, by
jingo! if the good old fellow didn't let me off, blessings on his head
for it. One of the narrowest escapes I ever had was one time I prigged
a poke with only seven shillings and sixpence in it. The copper saw me,
and chased me like Jehu. Well, I out with the money, pitched the purse
away, so that it could not be easily got again; and, one by one, I
swallowed the coins, and just as I was getting the sixpence down my
throat the 'bobby' had a hold of me by the collar. Of course he was too
late. I hadn't a rap in my pockets, but it was very near a 'legging'
for me. I had another narrow escape not long before I got this bit. I
knew a gentleman's house where they laid out the breakfast dishes on
the table for an hour before they took breakfast. During this hour the
room was left untenanted, and the window left open to let in the air.
Well, I bolted in and 'nicked' a nice silver teapot, cream jug, and one
or two other things, and off I started home, where I 'planted' the
articles, and then went to bed. Shortly afterwards a bobby came to the
door, and although I told them to say I was not at home, to get him
kept from coming in, by jingo! I soon found he was coming to search the
house. So I bolted out of bed like a shot, put my clothes into a
drawer, and up I went through a sort of trap-door on to the roof of the
house, and perched myself behind the chimney of the next house, with
nothing on but my shirt and stockings; I hadn't time even to get my
trousers pulled on. Oh! didn't I sit shivering there till they gave me
the tip that all was right in the house. The 'toff' that owned the
'wedge' made a dreadful song about it next day, and him wallowing in
wealth, what do you think of that? The copper knew I did that job, and
had me up on suspicion some time after, and gave me a drag (three
months) over it. The next bit I did was a 'sixer' (six months), and I
escaped from prison in about three weeks after I got it. Soon after
that I got this seven 'stretch' (years), and, by the piper! I'll take
care and not get the next for nothing!"

"Oh! crikey," cried Pat, "here's a new screw come; what has he been, I
wonder?"

"Where is he?" said Ned.

"Yonder; he is coming this way, with a tall complexion, a leg o' mutton
whisker, and a pock-marked shirt," replied Pat.

"Why, he's a big fellow?"

"Big! I should think he was. He is like a double-breasted beer barrel.
He's been a screw at some other prison; you can see that by the cut of
his jib."

"Oh! I know him," said Dick, "he's from Dartmoor; he is not a bad sort
of fellow, that. He is straightforward, and if ever he takes a prisoner
before the governor he speaks the truth, and you know they don't all do
that, by a long way."

"How long were you at the Moor, Dick?"

"Three years; but it's not like the same place now. Oh! we had rare
sport there at one time. There was an old half 'barmey' chap when I was
there, who was once admitted to the 'communion,' and it happened to be
his turn to get the wine first, and, by the piper! if he didn't drink
every drop that was in the cup, and cried, 'Oh! that's fine! I do love
this! I do love this!' We had plum pudding at Christmas in those days,
and the roughs did anything they liked almost, if they didn't strike a
screw. There was too much license there then, but now it's all the
other way. What good is this humbugging system going to do us? If they
want to keep us out of prison why don't they get work for us that we
can earn a proper living at?"

"Oh! they're a lot of jackasses, that's what they are; they don't know
what to do with us," said Ned.

"Look at this classification, and these marks and badges," said Dick,
"why, isn't it scandalous the way the public are gulled? First there
were big leather badges, that would cost probably a thousand pounds at
all the prisons. Then these were done away with, and we had badges half
the size, and then, after a few weeks, these were replaced by bits of
cloth. I wonder what they mean by all these changes of dress? Do they
think it punishes us?"

"No doubt they do."

"What fools they must be; what do we care what we wear in prison, as
long as it isn't thin rags that won't keep out the cold. Oh, have you
read that article in one of the periodicals about the Andaman Islands?"

"No."

"Well, the bloke who writes it proposes to send convicts out there, and
keep them for life and compel them to marry prostitutes or female
convicts, and then when the 'kids' are grown to take them away from
them! The fool! why, all convicts haven't life sentences, and does he
think that they would remain out there and do as he liked after their
time was up? It isn't likely."

"Why, that would be worse than the slave trade," said Ned, "and
wouldn't there be a nice crop of murders there? Why, they would require
to get a factory specially for making hemp ropes to hang the culprits."

"Who is it that writes the article?" asked Pat.

"A government commissioner, but he does not give his name."

"Troth, and I should be ashamed to give it if I was he; I propose he
should be taken and compelled to marry a 'tail,'[22] and sent out to try
it himself first; why such men are not fit to live, and these are
Christians! those are the men who do unto others as they wish to be
done by, God help us!"

      [22] Prostitute.

"Have you heard what the director did when he was down on Saturday?"
enquired Ned.

"A precious sight of good he does to be sure," replied Dick, "why he
has given orders that no prisoner is to be allowed to see him about the
food and the marks, and you must tell the chief warder what you want to
see the director about before you can be allowed to go before him.
Isn't that a pretty thing? What a nice easy way of earning a thousand a
year the director has?"

"What has caused this fresh order?"

"There were two causes--three of the convalescent invalids went to the
director to ask to be able-bodied in order to get the able-bodied diet.
They are doing as much work now, except that they are not quite so long
at it, but they are willing to work for the diet the same as the
others. The director refused to allow them to work more, and of course
they can't get the grub, and he gave orders that no more of such cases
should be allowed to come before him. Another case was this--two
fellows saved their cheese on the sly for several weeks, and in this
way managed to have each about four cheeses beside them. Well, one of
them told the officials what he was going to do, and the other kept his
intentions secret. The first one went before the director and asked him
if he would be kind enough to look at the cheese he had been supplied
with for some weeks, and see whether it was the quality it ought to
have been. The governor chimed in at once, and said that this was the
only complaint he had heard about the cheese, and that all the other
prisoners were satisfied. The prisoner was then bounced out of the
room, and threatened with a 'report' if he complained again. Well the
next man was called, and this happened to be the other 'bloke' with the
four cheeses. Before going in he took them out of his pocket, and what
do you think they did? Why, he wasn't allowed to go before the director
at all; they squared him and coaxed him, and at last persuaded him not
to insist on seeing the director at all, by threatening to send him to
the refractory cells for having four cheeses on his person, which was
quite contrary to the prison rules! Isn't it a ---- shame the way the
head blokes go on? How can they expect a fellow to reform when they rob
us of our food and show us a bad example?"

"What o'clock is it, Pat; d'ye see the clock there?"

"It wants a quarter to three; I say, Dick, will you give me a mutton
for a pudding, that beastly stuff lays heavy on my stomach, and I know
you are fond of it."

"I don't mind, but how are you to get it sent to me?"

"I'll send it by some fellow in our ward who works in your gang."

"I am hard up for snout," said Ned, "can you give us a bit, Pat? Upon
my word I've just had one old pipe head for the last three days and it
wasn't up to much, it had been too much used."

"Well, I'll lend you an inch or two, but I hope you will soon pay me
back; why there is none to be had now under a bob an ounce; but I say,
Ned, if you should get another legging I would advise you to declare
yourself a Jew. You look something like a sheeney at any rate. Why look
at that old 'Chickarlico;' he goes twice a week to school and has two
Sundays every week, besides ever so many feast days."

"Oh, I can do another 'bit,' no matter whether I am Jew, Turk, or
Christian; but if I get an easy job I mean to go on the square, upon my
word I do."

"Who'll employ you, do you think?"

"Why, I shall go to the society."

"The society be ----! they will not do you any good."

"I believe it is under new management now, and they don't cheat a
fellow out of his gratuity as they used to do; but I think it's a wrong
name to give it--The Prisoners' Aid Society! the very cases requiring
most aid they won't assist at all, and unless a fellow is stout and
hearty and has got some gratuity they won't have anything to do with
him. If I had only a few shillings coming due to me they would not aid
me, but as I have five or six pounds they will, now that looks
suspicious. Then, if I had lost a leg, like that bloke over there, they
wouldn't aid me. But if I don't go to the society I will, perhaps, go
to Ireland and give them a turn there."

"Oh!" said Pat, "you'll find nothing that wants lifting there."

"Have you been to Spike Island, Pat?"

"Yes."

"What sort of place is it, and what about this Irish system?"

"Oh! the place is something like the public works here, and as for the
Irish System--I can see nothing in it except that they get most of the
prisoners sent to America, and if they would send _us_ there, we
might get a living too, without going on the cross! There are not many
regular prigs in the Irish prisons. Many of them are fellows who got
into trouble in some drunken row, and the people in Ireland are not so
prejudiced against convicts as the English are, so that work is easier
got; another thing is when your time is near up you are trusted a
little, and get some liberty to go about. In this way the authorities
can see who's who. Then the numbers are fewer altogether, and a small
lot of men are easier dealt with, you know, than many thousands. It
wouldn't work quite so well here, but the great thing is sending the
prisoners abroad in some way or other. Do you know that Lafferty and
Badger are going to be sent to New Orleans, by the Catholic Aid
Society?"

"No! what will Lafferty do there?"

"Oh! he must go on the cross, I expect, but Badger is able to work.
He's a very good 'buzzer,' is Lafferty, mind you, and he might do very
well out there."

"Well, the time's up Ned, I suppose you'll be going up to the 'farm'
to-night, and we sha'n't see you again. Well, old fellow, take care of
old Tommy's black draughts, and look after yourself when you get out.
Good-bye."

"Good-bye, old fellow, good luck to ye."

"Fall in."

"There's the officer shouting 'fall in.'"

"Well, ta ta."

"Ta ta."

CHAPTER XX.

CAPITAL PUNISHMENTS--I RECEIVE MY LICENSE--STRANGE BED-FELLOWS--MY
LIBERATION.

During the last year of my imprisonment a bill relating to the crimes
of murder and manslaughter was brought before Parliament, and the
discussion in the House of Commons which ensued was much commented upon
by the prisoners. About the same time I read a lecture touching on the
same subject, which had been delivered to the Young Men's Christian
Association, at Exeter Hall, and it may not be out of place here if I
venture to express my opinion on the subject as well, possessing as I
do the advantage over most of those who have discussed it out of doors,
in having heard the opinions of those likely to commit such crimes, and
having a familiar acquaintance with their habits, and the motives from
which they act. The reverend lecturer to whom I have referred, based
his argument for the continued infliction of capital punishment on the
perpetual obligation of the Mosaic law: "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by
man shall his blood be shed." He also maintained, if I understand him
rightly, that the office of the hangman ought to be considered the
highest object of human ambition, and that the hangman himself should
take precedence of archbishops, kings, and emperors, inasmuch as he
occupied the position of Almighty God, taking vengeance for the
shedding of human blood. I confess I can scarcely conceive of a
Christian man occupying such a position, neither can I agree with the
reverend lecturer that the command given to Noah was intended to extend
to all generations and societies of men. When it was promulgated there
were only a few individuals left to people the universe, and the
command was made _absolute_. There is no intimation of any distinction
between the deliberate and the accidental shedding of human blood, and
until some such distinction is made our conceptions of the eternal
rectitude and justice of God, must be of a very peculiar and imperfect
kind. That some distinction ought to be made is a fact which men in all
ages and of all degrees of civilization have recognized, and have found
their authority for making such a distinction, not in any spoken or
written law, but in a much higher and older law than these, the
universal conscience of mankind. That such a distinction was found
necessary as the race became more numerous, is conclusively shown by
the promulgation of the Mosaic law: "He that smiteth a man so that he
die shall be surely put to death, and if a man lie not in wait, but God
deliver him into his hand, then I will appoint thee a place whither he
shall flee." (Ex. xxi., 12, 13.) This was a great modification of the
original injunction, and also shows clearly, to my mind at least, that
all human punishments should be regulated by the condition of the
people for whose benefit they are designed. Again, in the same chapter
from which I have already quoted, I find the following, "Thou shalt
give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot
for foot, &c.," a law evidently designed for a semi-barbarous people,
and admitting of prompt administration and summary execution. Turning
to the Christian law on the subject we find, "Ye have heard that it
hath been said an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, _but I_
say unto you that ye resist not evil." This would appear to introduce a
new principle of forbearance, and if we refer to the case of the woman
taken in adultery, where the legal penalty was death, we find that
mercy, and not vengeance, is the principle on which our penal code
ought to be based.

But leaving scriptural grounds and descending to those of expediency
merely. Does capital punishment deter men from committing murder more
effectually than perpetual imprisonment would? I believe that 999 out
of every 1000 of our convicts even would not commit deliberate murder,
although the penalty was only a few months' imprisonment and detection
_certain_, unless under peculiar temptation or provocation. It is
a crime naturally abhorrent even to the thief, and the majority of
those men capable of committing wilful murder would on the whole, I
believe, prefer to be hanged out of their misery, than remain in prison
all their life. If all hope of release could be utterly extinguished,
very few of such men would chance perpetual imprisonment, if they had
it in their option. Of course we could not banish hope from the minds
of all, and therefore many would at first cling to life, and after a
few years seek death as a release from bondage, and even commit suicide
rather than endure such suffering longer. I knew one prisoner who
pleaded to be hanged, and others who would certainly prefer execution
if they had no hope of ultimate liberty. The general opinion of those
who had been in prison ten or twelve years out of a 'life' sentence was
in favour of execution at once, as being the less dreadful alternative,
so that with respect to punishment as a deterring influence, I have no
doubt that perpetual imprisonment would be more efficacious than the
capital sentence.

Those who are capable of deliberately taking human life with the view
of obtaining money, may be divided into two classes. The one class
comprising such as prisoners who perpetrate the crime cunningly and in
secret, in the firm belief that they will escape detection; the other
class are the highwaymen and garotters, who go daringly and violently
to work, pretty sure in their own minds that they will be clever enough
to escape.

With regard to the former class, the deterring influence is detection.
Capital sentence, perpetual imprisonment, or even a less severe
sentence would operate equally in preventing the commission of the
crime in their case, because the idea is not generally present in their
mind when they premeditate it, or is completely outweighed by the fear
of detection or discovery. With reference to the second and bolder
class, a lingering imprisonment would appear more horrible in their
estimation, and exercise an equal if not a greater deterring influence
than the scaffold. Some of those men with whom I have met would glory
in dying 'game' as they term it. Those who commit murder in order to
gratify feelings of revenge, usually, I believe, find the gratification
of the passion so sweet that they are for the time quite regardless of
their own lives; and when jealousy is the cause of murder, it often
happens that the murderer takes the law into his own hands and visits
upon himself the penalty. I met cases in point, and in none of them did
the fear of the death sentence operate against the perpetration of
crime. They had made up their minds to lose their lives, and did not
calculate on escape. Such cases are not common, however, and perhaps it
is not possible to prevent them occurring.

Those murders perpetrated for the love of money might to some extent be
prevented by the general elevation of the mass of society, and by
increasing the swiftness and certainty of detection; and I have come,
after long study of the subject, and from frequent contact with those
saved from the gallows, to the conclusion that capital punishment may
now be safely abolished in this country. In all countries where
secondary punishments are severe and capital punishments rigorously
inflicted, murders are numerous, and in countries where the machinery
for the detection of crime is defective it may be the same. Earl
Russell, in a late edition of his work on the constitution, expresses
opinions on this subject with which I coincide, but I disagree with him
when he prescribes imprisonment and hard labour as being the most
suitable method of dealing with criminals not capitally punished; I
refer, of course, to imprisonment and hard labour as generally
understood.

There are three systems of imprisonment: the solitary, the separate and
silent, and the promiscuous association of all prisoners at the public
works.

The solitary system feeds the lunatic asylums, the separate system has
its advantages, if not too long continued, and of the promiscuous
association system I have already at some length given my opinion.

In my humble estimation a prison ought to be a place for extracting as
much usefulness as possible out of a prisoner for the benefit of that
society whose laws he has offended; but the "hard labour" in our
prisons is not useful in any sense of the word, either to the prisoner
or society, it is sheer waste of energy, which is in itself an evil,
and it gives the prisoner an aversion to labour of all kinds, which is
another and a much greater evil. Moreover, long imprisonments are
injurious to the prisoner under any discipline. If you take a bird, and
place it in a cage, and next day liberate it, it will ever retain a
dread of confinement; but, if you keep it in a prison for years, and
then open the cage door, instead of the sudden eager flight to freedom,
it will hover round its little prison, perhaps it will even re-enter
it, preferring it to that liberty which it has lost the power to enjoy.
So it is with many prisoners, keep them confined, and accustom them for
years to prison life, such as it is in the most approved "models," or
indeed under any conceivable mode of discipline consistent with
unshortened life in such a place, and they will re-enter the world in a
great measure, unfitted for the business of life.

I remember having a conversation with an intelligent prisoner who was
by no means a criminal at heart. He asked me what means would I
recommend for the destruction of these schools of crime?--for so he
called the convict prisons.

"Sentence Charles Dickens to ten years' penal servitude, and allow him
to use his pen," I replied.

"Well," he said, "I daresay that might do, especially if those intended
for our future judges were sentenced along with him; but why should we
not try to enlighten the public when we are liberated?"

"You might do so," I replied, "and I sincerely hope you will do so; but
I fear, like the down of a thistle on an elephant's back, so would the
words of a convict fall upon the public ear!"

"Look at Napoleon III.," said my friend, "he is an ex-convict, and do
his words fall lightly on the public ear?"

"His is hardly a case in point," I said; "the greater the criminal, or
rather the higher the object he endeavours unlawfully to obtain, the
less prejudiced is society against him. They regard these Fenians for
instance in a different light to us, yet these men at bottom are or
would be wholesale destroyers of human life, whilst we had no intention
of doing anyone any injury either in person or property. We are loyal,
they are traitors. We would willingly lay down our lives to regain our
lost characters and attain to an honourable and useful position in
society; they will go out of prison rebels, ready to take up arms
against all authority save that of their misguided chiefs, whenever
they can do so with apparent safety! Yet these men will be more
favourably received by society than you or I will be. You will find
when you get free that your position will be very different from what
it was, and that anything you say will be viewed with suspicion, as
coming from a prejudiced and untrustworthy person, and a well-told
falsehood by an official will far outweigh the whole truth if related
by a prisoner."

"I could now prove," said my friend, "by the Blue Books, that most of
the reports sent to the Home Office regarding these establishments are
unreliable, and calculated to deceive and mislead the public as well as
the government."

"You will require to be very guarded," I replied; "and above all things
adhere strictly to the truth, and if you can gain the ear of some
eminent man who takes an interest in the question, you might be the
means of doing your country much service."

In consequence of such conversations as the one I have just related, I
was led to form the idea of giving this narrative to the public. If it
should lead to any change or modification in our criminal law,
conducive to the welfare and security of society, I shall consider that
my labours have not been altogether vain and unprofitable.

A change of government having taken place during the last year of my
imprisonment I had the good fortune to get a few months' more remission
of sentence than might otherwise have been the case.

While I feel truly thankful to those noblemen and gentlemen and other
friends who interceded for me, my special gratitude is due to Mr.
Walpole, for the promptitude he displayed in acknowledging my claim to
the few months' mitigation of punishment it was in his power to bestow.

On a Friday morning I was unexpectedly called before the governor, and
informed that my license had arrived. I was asked certain particulars
in reference to my future intentions and address. I was next measured
for a shoe, the only decent and honest article of clothing I ever
received in prison; tried on a suit of clothes, and had my portrait
taken. On the Saturday morning I was weighed and measured, and taken
before the chaplain to receive a few formal words of parting advice. On
the following Monday I was again taken before the governor to hear my
license read. On Tuesday morning I was removed to Millbank Prison, and
lodged there for the night, in a cell along with two other prisoners
going to liberty like myself. We slept on narrow dirty mattresses, laid
on the floor, so close as to be touching each other. One of my new
companions had been nearly four years in the lunatic asylum at
Fisherton, and had recovered. The other was a young professional thief,
belonging to London, whose mind was just on the verge of insanity,
through long confinement in separate cells. To sleep on the floor of a
dusty cell, between two such companions, was not quite so comfortable
as a bed in the Hotel Meurice, at Paris, where I had spent my last free
night. Every moment that divided me from the hour of my liberation now
seemed magnified into days. Wednesday morning at last dawned upon me. I
was taken out and placed before a regiment of policemen, who each
scrutinized me, and that done I received my license. With feelings of
inexpressible thankfulness and gratitude to God I heard the heavy
prison doors close behind me, and once more I inhaled the sweet free
air of Heaven!

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I trudged along the streets, in my
shabby clothes and with my deal crutch. I felt a new punishment
creeping over me, even whilst the glorious sun of freedom was shedding
its welcome rays on my dishonoured head.

With nineteen shillings and threepence in my pocket, but with my
reputation lost, my health ruined, alone and a cripple, whom no
"Prisoners' Aid Society" would assist, I was expected to begin anew the
battle of life!

While I write these lines the bitterness of my new punishment has
already visited me. Repulsed from every door where I seek employment,
waiting patiently for the replies to my applications for advertised
situations, which never come, the brand of the convict has indeed
become the very mark of Cain, and I feel as if my fellowmen shrink from
me as they pass. Fortunately I found at the post-office a few pounds
sent to me from my brother, which, with slight additions, have enabled
me to procure a mechanical leg, and to live till I have completed this
narrative. But what is the fate of the many so situated, with no
friends to help them, save the workhouse or the prison once again? A
dreary life amongst paupers, or a short life of pleasure and crime, and
long years of bondage to atone for it. Do you wonder if some choose the
latter?... May you, gentle reader, never know what it is to lose your
limb, your liberty, your character, or your home. May my history prove
a beacon to warn you from the quicksands of ambition, on which so many
human souls are wrecked, and may your little barque, wafted by gentle
sunny gales, be safely steered across the great ocean of life, and at
last be securely moored in that haven where blessedness and peace for
ever reign!

APPENDIX.

_Consultat Général de France en Angleterre._

Londres, le 1^er September, 1863.

Le Consul Général de France a Londres a l'honneur de transmettre á
Monsieur ----, avec prière de vouloir bien lui en accuser réception,
une lettre et une médaille qui lui sont destinées.

Monsieur ----, _Negociant_.

_Ministere de l'Agriculture du Commerce, et des Travaux
Public--Secrétarian Général, Mèdaille._

Paris, le 22 Juin, 1863.

Monsieur à la suite du traité de commerce conclu le 23 Janvier, 1860,
entre la France et la Grande Bretagne, le Gouvernement de Sa Majesté
l'Empereur a du procéder à une enquète dont les résultats devaient le
mettre à mème de determiner les Tarifs des droit d'importation en
France des produits fabriqués en Angleterre. Pour Consacrer le Souvenir
de cette enquête, l'une des plus importantes de ce genre qui aient été
faites en France, le Gouvernement à fait frapper une médaille
commemorative et il a décidé qu'un exemplaire en bronze de cette
médaille serait mis à la disposition des Industriels qui ont déposé
dans l'enquéte. J'ai l'honneur, Monsieur, de vous adresser à ce titre
l'exemplaire qui vous est destiné. Recevez, Monsieur, l'assurance de ma
consideration tres distinguée.

Le Ministre de l'Agriculture, du Commerce et des Travaux Public,

G. ROUHER.

Monsieur ----, _Negociant_.

[It is requested that any further communication on the subject be
addressed to the Secretary to the Board of Trade, Whitehall, London,
S.W.]

_Office of Committee of Privy Council for Trade_,

Whitehall, 9th May, 1861.

SIR,

I am directed by the Lords of the Committee of Privy Council for Trade
to transmit to you the accompanying Volume, which contains the evidence
taken by the Counseil Supêrieur du Commerce on the Industries of
England and France, during their recent enquiry at Paris, in connection
with the Commercial Treaty between the two countries. In requesting
your acceptance of this Work, of which a limited number of Copies has
been placed at the disposal of Her Majesty's Government by the
Government of France, I am to convey to you the best thanks of this
Board for the valuable assistance which you rendered upon that
occasion, both to the Counseil Supêrieur and to the British
Commissions.

I am, Sir,

Your obedient Servant,

J. EMMERSON TENNENT.

_Order of License to a Convict, made under the Statutes 16 & 17 Vic.,
c. 99, s. 9; and 27 & 28 Vic., c. 47, s. 4._

        Whitehall, ---- day of ---- 18--

Her Majesty is graciously pleased to grant to ---- who was convicted of
---- on the ---- day of ---- 18--, and was then and there sentenced to
be kept in penal servitude for the term of ----, and is now confined
in the ---- Her Royal License to be at large from the day of his
liberation under this order, during the remaining portion of his said
term of penal servitude, unless the said ---- shall, before the
expiration of the said term, be convicted of some indictable offence
within the United Kingdom, in which case such License will be
immediately forfeited by law, or unless it shall please Her Majesty
sooner to revoke or alter such License.

This License is given subject to the conditions endorsed upon the same,
upon the breach of any of which it shall be liable to be revoked,
whether such breach is followed by a conviction or not. And Her Majesty
hereby orders that the said ---- be set at liberty within Thirty days
from the date of this order.

Given under my hand and seal.

Signed, S. H. WALPOLE.

_True Copy_              } E. Y. W. HENDERSON,
_License to be at large._} Chairman of the Directors of Convict Prisons.

CONDITIONS.

1.--The holder shall preserve his License, and produce it when called
upon to do so by a Magistrate or Police Officer.

2.--He shall abstain from any violation of the law.

3.--He shall not habitually associate with notoriously bad characters,
such as reputed thieves and prostitutes.

4.--He shall not lead an idle or dissolute life, without visible means
of obtaining an honest livelihood.

If his License is forfeited or revoked in consequence of a Conviction
for any Offence, he will be liable to undergo a term of Penal Servitude
equal to the portion of his term of ---- years which remained unexpired
when his License was granted, _viz._:--the term of two years and
eleven months.

NOTICE.

He shall report himself to the Police on discharge, and subsequently
once in each month; and if he changes his residence from one Police
District to another, he shall report himself to the Police of the
locality he leaves, and to the Police of that to which he goes, within
three days of his arrival: if he fails to do so, his License will be
forfeited.

In the foregoing "Ticket-of-leave" the word Licence is spelt with an
_s._ In the Police Documents it is spelt with a _c._--So much for the
education of Government Officials.

SAVOY STEAM PRESS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.