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?"
"Nine months."
"What's your sentence?"
"Seven years."
"Have you done your separates in the 'bank?"
"No; in the country--down in Somerset."
"What sort of treatment did you get?"
"Wretched! They are making it very hot now, and I got 'bashed' as
well."
"The flogging has made your health bad, I suppose?"
"Yes, it made me spit up ever so much blood."
"Were you ever flogged before?"
"Yes, twice."
"Twice! Why, how old are you?"
"Twenty-three, and I have done two 'leggings,' and this is my third,
besides short bits in the county jails."
"During your first 'legging' I suppose you had been among the boys at
the Isle of Wight?"
"Yes."
"I think most of the Isle of Wight boys get into prison again? I have
seen a great many now who did their first bit there."
"Well, a good many of them went on the cross."
"You belong to London, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"Did you get your sentence there?"
"No, in Bristol."
"How long were you out this last time?"
"Six days, and I was half-drunk all the time."
"How long was your last sentence?"
"Three years, and I did it all."
"How did you lose your remission?"
"For striking a 'screw.'"
"Why did you not remain in London when you went out last?"
"Well, these 'flimping' fellows have alarmed the Londoners so much that
there is no chance of getting a living at thieving."
"You mean that the garotters have spoiled your trade by making people
more guarded?"
"Why, man, they are wearing steel collars and carrying fire-arms."
"But they have passed a flogging bill in Parliament for all these
crimes with violence."
"Flogging be d----d! D'ye think that would stop them? It's the people
being always on the watch, and the 'Bobbies' more expert, that makes
them afraid of being caught. But I wish they would never try that game,
for it gives the 'buzzer' no chance."
"You say you have been flogged three times: how did you like it?"
"The first time I was a kid, and cried like anything; the second time I
never uttered a word nor flinched in the least; and the last time, I
sang the bawdiest song I could lay my tongue on, and cried, 'Come on,
ye ----!'"
"Well, I think you are a very foolish fellow; you have permanently
injured your health by your conduct."
"I know all that, but my temper won't let me be quiet; and, by jingo!
if this butcher does not treat me properly, I'll make him pay for it;
I'll see now what the fish and the fowls and the jellies are like."
"You appear to be consumptive?"
"Yes, second stage."
"Now, take my advice and be as quiet as you can, and you will do very
well here."
"Well, if these fellows will let me alone, and the 'butcher' gives me
good treatment, I'll be all right; but I'll stand no nonsense--there's
no two ways with me. Is there any 'snout' knocking about? I have got
some money, and if you can tell me how I can get it I will be glad."
"I do not use it myself, but I see others dealing away in it, and I
have no doubt that some of these fellows opposite will be able to put
you on the right scent."
This was one of the men who bring odium on the whole class of
prisoners, and prejudice society against them. He was a thorough-bred
professional thief, and, in addition, he was one of the very worst
prison characters. His temper was very violent, and at times apparently
uncontrollable. The lash had been tried on him, and, as in every case I
met with, in vain. If he lives to complete the term of his imprisonment
he will, as a matter of course, return to his old practices,--the only
method he knows of making his living. The officials were afraid he
would stab or otherwise injure some of them; and he was petted and
indulged a good deal at first. His diet was changed every other day,
until they got tired of humouring him; and then he got into trouble. At
last, after he had been about eighteen months in the prison, and had
insulted and threatened to strike the governor, he was suddenly removed
to another prison, where he would no doubt repeat the same game. In all
probability he will be in the grave before he is due for liberation.
Yet with all this, he could have been _led_ like a child; but to
attempt to drive him was out of the question. I confess I was very glad
when he was removed from the bed next to mine to one further away.
My neighbour on the other side was a very different character. He was a
self-taught artist, and was gifted with considerable natural genius.
His failing had been intemperance, and his crime a "got up" case of
rape. He was quite a philosopher in his way, always happy, always
contented; nothing came amiss to him. Imprisonment was of no account
with him; he was above it altogether. He had no inclination to break
the law, and was most unlikely to enter a prison a second time. Yet
this prisoner never could manage to get such good treatment as the
other, simply because he was easily pleased. He looked upon the prison
as a place of passage to be made the best of, not as a home. He could
be liberated to-morrow with perfect safety to the public, whilst the
other prisoner, who had precisely the same sentence, will go into the
society of thieves, and the pockets of other people, the moment he is
permitted the opportunity. The artist, although a cripple, could have
earned far more in prison than would have supported himself if he had
been allowed to do so. The thief could not have supported himself
honestly anywhere, and in prison he was never taught how to do so.
Now suppose these two men had been sent to a penal workshop, each with
a fine of 50_l._ upon his head, instead of to a human cage with a
seven years' sentence; suppose that they were each debited, in addition
to the fine, with the cost of their food, lodging, &c., and credited
with their labour on the profits on their work, and liberated when the
account was balanced, what would be the result? In all probability it
would be this: that the artist, anxious for liberty, would economise,
do with as little food and drink as possible, exert his faculties to
the uttermost, and in a year or two perhaps he would have paid off the
amount of his fine, and the cost of his maintenance. He would then be
liberated in a condition to benefit society; impressed with the folly
of his conduct in having thrown away so much time and money, and
determined to keep the law for the future.
The tax-payers, instead of being as now burdened to support him, would
not only be relieved of that particular grievance, but would have the
satisfaction of seeing the criminal contributing large sums to the
right side of the public ledger. Instead of paying a quarter of a
million of hard and honest-earned money to maintain convict prisons,
and ever so much more to the county jails, we might in time make them
self-sustaining, and the offenders of the law a source of revenue to
the country.
If the casual offender regained his freedom in two years under such a
system as I have indicated, when would one of the worst members of the
most dangerous class regain his? And what would be his condition and
prospects? He would certainly get deeper into debt to begin with, and
if thoroughly determined to remain a dangerous and useless member of
society he would never regain his liberty. Perhaps he would commit an
offence against the person, and bring restraint and punishment upon
himself in every way unworthy of unrestrained freedom. But if he were
resolved to become an honest and industrious man, the opportunity and
the means for so doing would be before him; he would set to and learn a
trade, practice economy, confine his hands to his own pockets, prove
himself worthy of trust, and at the end of four or five years regain
his freedom. He could never keep pace with the other in the race for
liberty, nor would he be fitted for the proper use of his liberty until
he had practised industry under a natural and healthy stimulus up to
the paying point--the point when he becomes convinced in his own mind
that honesty is the best policy. His prospects on liberation would then
be very different from what they are under the present system. He would
then be suited for being a colonist. It would have been proved to his
own mind that he could make a living by honest industry, and in most
cases this is the all-important consideration. Removed from his old
associates, placed in circumstances where money can be made by
industry, and still keeping the cost of his transportation against him
to be paid out of the first of his own free earnings, society would
then have done its duty by him. I wish to impress this strongly on
those who take an interest in the subject of criminal reformation; and
therefore repeat, that if we can prove to the thief's own satisfaction
that he can earn an honest livelihood, at work agreeable to himself and
suited to his abilities, we shall do much towards making him an honest
man. But, let us starve him and lash him, and tyrannize over him, and
we shall send him to the grave or the gallows; and if we combine
statuesque and compulsory Christianity with such treatment, we make him
in addition a hardened unbeliever and atheist. And yet hitherto we have
sent such men prematurely into the other world, in such condition of
soul and body, with as great complacency as if the blame were all their
own.
The next case I shall notice was a very different one indeed. The
prisoner had been a clergyman in the Church of England for upwards of
twenty years, and during that long period had discharged his duties to
the satisfaction of his flock and his superiors in the church. I
believe he had made an imprudent second marriage. His wife was beneath
him in social position and being inclined to habits of extravagance had
incurred debts which his small income could not meet. He used funds
entrusted to his care by some society for the purpose of liquidating
these debts, intending to replace them when his stipend became due.
These funds happened, however, to be wanted much sooner than had been
customary, he was not able to produce them, and the consequence was
penal servitude for a very long period. I could not help pitying the
prisoner. He had never rubbed shoulders with the world. An occasional
evening with the Squire's family or in the homes of the less exalted
among his parishioners, had been almost his only opportunity of gaining
a knowledge of life. He was apparently very penitent, and often I
noticed him shedding tears (a very unusual sight in a convict prison),
and he seemed to feel his degrading and cruel punishment very keenly
indeed. He was very kind to the prisoners and was a great favourite
with them, and in consequence not in the very best odour with the
authorities. He was, like myself, employed as a reader in the
work-rooms, but was soon removed to another prison, where he is now
employed tailoring! What will he--what can he do, when liberated? I
heard of three other clergymen who had been convicts, one of them went
abroad after he was liberated, and soon afterwards died. A second went
to a part of the country where he thought he would not be known, opened
a school which was not very successful, got into good society, and for
a time was very comfortable and happy. One day, however, a cabman who
came to drive him to a gentleman's house, recognized him as an old
prison companion, and the fact having become known he was obliged soon
after to leave the neighbourhood. The third met with a fate somewhat
similar. He happened to be at an evening party, in the house of a
friend; one of the guests would not remain in his company, and to save
the party from shipwreck he threw himself overboard into the great
ocean of life. Perhaps some friendly fish has swallowed him and cast
him on a Christian shore! I never heard of him again. The fate of these
men gives rise to many sorrowful reflections; surely there is cruel
injustice in the law which condemns a minister of the church of Christ,
who in a moment of sore temptation breaks the eighth commandment, to
years of slavery and a life of degradation and disgrace, compared with
which death itself would be mercy and kindness, and yet permits
constant and flagrant violations of the seventh, by rich and titled
transgressors, to be compromised with gold! Why do we in the one case
brand the offender with the mark of Cain, and in the other cover with a
golden veil both sin and sinner? If it is necessary, "as a warning to
others," that casual violations of the eighth commandment should be so
punished, why is it unnecessary to warn others against the frequent and
habitual violation of the seventh? Would the payment of money, together
with the loss of character, social position, &c., not be a sufficient
warning to all men in a position to commit such acts of dishonesty as
may be included under the general designation of breaches of trust? But
what does so-called justice now demand in such cases? Let ten clergymen
embezzle 100_l._ each, and hear how society indemnifies itself for
the crime and the loss! By the mouth of one judge, one of these
clergymen is sentenced to one year in prison; by the mouth of another
judge, another of these clergymen is sentenced to two years in prison;
by the mouth of a third, another is condemned to three years penal
servitude, to labour and associate with the dregs of society; by the
mouth of a fourth, four years of such humiliation; and so on.
Are all these just judges;--or is only one of them just? and which is
he?
These are questions I will leave my readers to answer for themselves.
Of one thing I am satisfied, that our present laws on the subject
require alteration.