CHAPTER XVI.
QUACKERY—FOOD—A CHATHAM PRISONER EATS SNAILS AND FROGS—SIR JOSHUA JEBB'S SYSTEM AND ITS DEFECTS.
I have already said in a previous chapter that our prison authorities regard the convicts as mere human machines, all made after the same model, and that the machinery, by some abnormal defect in its original construction constantly impels them in the wrong direction. In official eyes they do not appear to be men having peculiarities of physical construction and constitution, individuality of character, or to have been so designed as to be like other men, moulded by circumstances, or amenable to the influence of education or social position. They look at him through the official spectacles, the lenses of which are carefully adjusted so that the object shall present not only a perfectly uniform appearance but also appear uniformly bad. If the convict is in good health, the machinery working smoothly—but still by the defect in its construction always in the wrong direction—there are the regulation appliances, not for remedying the original defect in the machinery, it must be remembered, and if possible getting it to work in the right direction, but appliances to check, thwart, and by force drive it backward, which in most cases it cannot and will not do, and breakages, ruin of machinery and other appliances also are the only result. They number and ticket the convict according to his sentence, range them all up, count them eleven times a day and say to them, "Convicts, now here you are, all ticketed and counted, all of you are afflicted with some moral disease, we are here to cure you, and we have one pill which will do it, and you must swallow it."
This is the perfection of penal legislation at which, after many royal commissions, and much parliamentary eloquence, we have arrived! One would have imagined that a gigantic quackery and multitudes of quack doctors could have been procured and set in motion with less trouble and at less expense! Only on one point there is universal agreement, let the machine be working either in the right direction or the wrong—so long as it is working it must be oiled, that is a necessity of machine-life, so to speak—the man or convict must be fed. But how feed him? To you, my reader, and I, the natural answer would be that the machine must be oiled, or the man fed, in greater or less proportion to the power and capacity of the machine or man, and to the amount of work we require from it or him. But we are both wrong. Our prison authorities say, "Machine, big or little, you shall all have exactly the same quantity of oil, neither more nor less. You little machines there, with oil running all over you, how smoothly and uncomplainingly you work! You big machines, you may creak as you please, your journals may get hot, blaze up and produce universal smash: but you can't get any more oil; we can't allow you to lick up any of that which is running over your little neighbour there—that is for the pigs, and for us." Is not this amazing folly? Or again, suppose we were to take a race-horse, a dray-horse, a farmer's horse, a broken-down hack, and a Shetland horse—for these more nearly resemble the various classes of convicts—and say to them, "Horses, you have all offended the laws of horsedom, and stand fully convicted of clover stealing. For this most heinous crime you are each condemned to draw a load, one ton weight, fifteen miles every day—Sundays excepted—for five years, and your allowance of food will be two feeds of oats, and one allowance of hay per diem;" and what would be the result, supposing that the allowance of hay and oats was just barely sufficient for the average—say the farmer's horse?
First of all the race-horse, able to eat his oats and a portion of the hay, could do with some additional dainty bits, perhaps, but on the whole he has his stomach filled and can live. He is yoked to his load, and being a spirited animal, he goes at it very hard, succeeds for a time; at last he sticks in a rut, puts on a "spurt," and breaks down. He can't do the work. He is put down at six marks a day, or no remission. He is spoiled for ever, and as a racer his days are ended.
The dray-horse comes next, the load is a mere toy to him, he gets his eight marks a day, but by-and-bye he begins to feel the effects of an empty stomach, to fill which he would require double the allowance of food he receives; and in the long run he too breaks down and is passed into the hands of the veterinary surgeon, and is ruined as a useful animal.
Next comes the farmer's horse, and the load and diet being suitable to him, he can do the punishment and easily satisfy the law.
The broken-down hack is never yoked at all, he passes into the hands of the surgeon, and there remains. While the little Shetlander is in clover; he never had so many oats before—has actually as much again as he can consume—and the cart and harness being too large, and the load altogether ridiculous for his strength, he is never put to it, and so escapes the legal punishment. And so it is that one portion of the inhabitants of horsedom, pointing to the Shetlander, cry out that "the convicts have too much food, they are up to the eyes in luxuries;" another portion, pointing to the dray horse, say "the convicts are starved, and are dying of hunger;" whilst a third answers both by pointing to the farm horse and saying that "he can do the work and satisfy the law. Why should they not all be treated alike? a horse is a horse all the world over."
Our system of dieting and working convicts is exactly similar to the above; only at the invalid prison where I was confined the law was not adhered to. I knew prisoners who ate double the quantity of food allowed them, and I knew others who did not eat above half. Sometimes it happened that a voracious prisoner could not get his food exchanged so as to increase its bulk, and in that case he would be compelled to seek refuge in hospital. If the diet there was not sufficient, God help him, for from man no further aid was to be expected.