Six Years in the Prisons of England Part 11

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 enc.u.mbered 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 a.s.sistance given us by Nature's G.o.d 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 pa.s.sage 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 antic.i.p.ated meeting the regular visiting director, who very rarely refused a prisoner the privilege of writing a pet.i.tion 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 pet.i.tioned the Home Secretary for several years, that, in fact, I had not pet.i.tioned 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 pet.i.tioning 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 Ba.s.sanio's appeal to Shylock was not more futile than mine to him. The words and gesture with which my suppliant att.i.tude 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 pa.s.sed 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 cla.s.s 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 a.s.serted, 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 a.s.sume 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 cla.s.s 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 rest.i.tution 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 'G.o.d 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 a.s.sure 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.