Six Years in the Prisons of England

by Unknown

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."