I do not wish it to be understood that the Fenians receive better medical treatment than the other prisoners, nor is their position generally much better. They sat at work in the same room with me; they had the privilege of exercising by themselves, but judging from their eagerness for my society and political conversation, they seemed to consider the privilege in the light of a punishment. One concession was made to them, however, which at first rather surprised me. They were allowed to write to their friends as often, when they were in the third class, as other prisoners were allowed who were in the first, and the censorship over their letters was not very severe. One of the head-centres, and one of the principal writers and agitators in the would-be rebellious sister isle was a tall, bony, cadaverous-looking man, afflicted with scrofula. He could have ate double his allowance of food, and probably he required more than he was allowed; at all events he thought he was not getting proper treatment, and wrote a very strong letter on the subject to his friends. This letter was considered a libel on the establishment, but the governor and director decreed that the letter should pass, as it would show the Fenians outside that their friends in prison were not on a bed of roses. This was acting in quite a contrary direction to that which was usually followed with the correspondence of other prisoners. Any letter that told of the comforts of the prison, and gave the friends of the prisoner the idea that he was in Paradise was sure to pass, and the writer of it would also get into the good graces of the officials; but if there was any word of complaint, especially if addressed to any person of influence, the extinguisher was put upon it at once.
I remember one of the patients writing to his friends that he was unwell, but that he really did not know very well what to say about his complaint, as one doctor told him to get out of bed and "knock about," as there was nothing the matter with him, while another told him he was dying, and on no account to leave his bed, and between the two he did not know what to do. This was at the time when the two medical officers seemed to pull against each other. The letter produced an improvement in them, but it was never allowed to reach its destination.
Another case was that of a Quaker's letter (the only one of the creed I met with in prison). He was a quiet old man, and for upwards of three years had been allowed certain trifling privileges on account of his religious opinions,—one of them was his being allowed to sit when grace was said before meals. One day, a young consequential officer happened to be on duty in the ward where the Quaker was domiciled, and when he called "Attention!" for grace, the Quaker, as usual, kept his seat. The officer ordered him to stand up, and the Quaker having attempted to explain he was "reported," and besides being sent to "Chokey," forfeited some of his remission for the offence. He wrote to an influential Quaker in the North of England, explaining the particulars of the case; but his letter contained one clause sufficient to condemn it in the eyes of the prison officials, and it was this, "Be good enough to send this letter to John Bright, Esq., M.P."
CHAPTER XV.
A VERY BAD CASE—A SELF-TAUGHT ARTIST—A CLERGYMAN ALSO A CONVICT—THE CLERGYMAN IS TAUGHT TAILORING—HOW WE PUNISH VIOLATION OF THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT AND THE EIGHTH.
On one occasion during my second sojourn in hospital, my attention was accidentally directed to a pale, sickly-looking young man, who had just arrived with a number of other prisoners from Millbank, and whose appearance and manner so unmistakably betrayed the genus to which he belonged that I decided to avail myself of the first opportunity which presented itself of learning his history. It so happened that he was located in the next bed to mine, and I had thus no difficulty in finding an occasion to gratify my curiosity, and the following dialogue took place on the first day of his arrival.
"Well, what news have you brought from Millbank?"
"Oh, nothing particular; the prison's full, and a good many back on their ticket."
"How long have you done?"