But the most notorious prisoners in Millbank were not always to be found on the “male side.” Equally famous in their own way were some of the female convicts—women like Alice Grey, whose career of imposture at the time attracted great attention, and was deservedly closed by committal to Millbank on a long sentence of transportation. Alice Grey was a young lady of artless appearance and engaging manners. Her favourite form of misconduct was to bring false charges against unfortunate people who had never seen her in their lives. Thus, she accused two boys of snatching a purse from her hand in the street, and when a number were paraded for her inspection she readily picked out the offenders. “Her evidence was so ingenuous,” says the report, “that her story was implicitly believed, and the boys were remanded for trial.” As a sort of compensation to Miss Grey (her real name was “Brazil,” but she had several—among others, Anastasia Haggard, Felicia Macarthy, Jane Tureau, Agnes Hemans, etc.) she was given a good round sum from the poor-box. But she was not always so successful. She was sentenced to three months in Dublin for making a false charge, and eighteen months soon afterwards at Greenock. At Stafford she accused a poor working man of stealing her trunk, value £8; when put into the box she was taxed with former mistakes of this kind, whereupon she showed herself at once in her true colours and reviled every one present in a long tirade of abuse. Her cleverness was, however, sufficient to have made her fortune if she had turned her talents to honest account.
There was more dash about women like Louisa M. or Emily L. The former drove up to Hunt and Roskell’s in her own carriage to look at some bracelets. They were for Lady Campbell, and she was Miss Constance Browne. Her bankers were Messrs. Cocks and Biddulph. Finally she selected bracelets and head ornaments to the value of £2,500, which were to be brought to her house that evening by two assistants from the shop, who accordingly called at the hour named. The door was opened by a page. “Pray walk upstairs.” Miss Browne walks in. “The bracelets? Ah, I will take them up to Lady Campbell, who is confined to her room.” The head assistant demurred a little, but Miss Browne said, “Surely you know my bankers? I mentioned them to-day. Messrs. Hunt and Roskell have surely satisfied themselves?” With that the jewels were taken upstairs. Half an hour passes. One assistant looks at the other. Another half hour. What does it mean? One rings the bell. No answer. The other tries the door. It is locked. Then, all at once discovering the trap, they both throw up the window and call in the police. They are released, but the house is empty. Pursuit, however, is set on foot, and Miss Constance Browne is captured the same night in a second class carriage upon the Great Western Railway, and when searched she was found to have on her a quantity of diamonds, a £100 note, rings and jewelry of all sorts, including the missing bracelets. She had laid her plans well. The house—which was Lady Campbell’s—she had hired furnished, that day, paying down the first instalment of rent. The page she had engaged and fitted with livery also that very day, and the moment he had shown up the jeweller’s men she had sent him to the Strand with a note. Here was cleverness superior to that of Alice Grey.
Probably Emily L. carried off the palm from both. As an adroit and daring thief she has had few equals. She is described as a most affable, ladylike, fascinating woman, well educated, handsome, and of pleasing address. She could win almost any one over. The shopmen fell at her feet, so to speak, when she alighted from her brougham and condescended to enter and give her orders. She generally assumed the title of Countess L., but her chief associate and ally was a certain James P., who was a lapidary by trade, an excellent judge of jewels, and a good looking respectable young fellow—to all appearance—besides. They were long engaged in a series of jewel robberies on a large scale, but escaped detection. Fate overtook them at last, and they were both arrested at the same time. One charge was for stealing a diamond locket, value £2,000, from Mr. Emanuel, and a diamond bracelet worth £600 from Hunt and Roskell. At the same moment there cropped up another charge of stealing loose diamonds in Paris to the tune of £10,000. Emily was sentenced to four years, and from the moment she entered prison she resolved to give all the trouble she could. Her conduct at Millbank and at the prison to which she passed, was atrocious; had the discipline been less severe she would probably have rivalled some of the ill-conducted women to whom I referred in the last volume. But at the expiration of her sentence she returned to her evil ways outside. Brighton was the scene of her next misfortune. She there entered a jeweller’s shop, and having put him quite off his guard by her insinuating manners, stole £1,000 worth from under his nose, and while he was actually in conversation with her. The theft was not discovered till she was just leaving Brighton. Apprehended at the station, she indignantly denied the charge, asserting that she was a lady of high rank, and offering bail to any amount. But she was detained, and a London detective having been called in, she was at once identified. For this she got seven years, and was sent to Millbank once more. This extraordinary woman, notwithstanding the vigorous examination to which all incoming prisoners were subjected, succeeded in bringing in with her a number of valuable diamonds. But they were subsequently discovered in spite of the strange steps she took to secrete them.
[CHAPTER X]
THE PENITENTIARY IMPUGNED
Charges of harshness and cruelty—Parliamentary enquiry—Charges entirely disproved—Increased efforts at reform by segregating prisoners—Their improved demeanour—Prison very quiet—Cases of weakened intellect and insanity—Rules relaxed and contemplated change in the penitentiary system—Millbank a failure—New uses devised for the prison—Becomes part of the new scheme for transportation.
While the criminals of the period were passing in and out of Millbank, and Mr. Nihil, backed up by his committee, was working indefatigably and with the best intentions, the credit of the establishment was suddenly impugned in no measured terms. It was doubtful indeed whether the ship could weather the storm of invective that broke upon it. Had the managers of Millbank been ogres instead of painstaking philanthropists working for the public good, they could not have been more rancorously assailed. But here was a case where the people suffered because their rulers squabbled. It was a period when party warfare ran high and the Opposition hailed eagerly any opportunity of bringing discredit upon the Ministry. The attack made upon the Penitentiary was really directed against the Government.