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."

"How many robberies may you have committed?"

"Goodness knows! with the exception of the time I was in New Zealand I've been always on the 'cross.'"

"What was the largest you ever got?"

"Five hundred pounds."

"I understand, most of these large robberies are 'put up' jobs, like the one you have mentioned?"

"Yes, most of them are; the risk would be too great if that was not the case."

"Have you ever been flogged?"

"Yes, severely."

"How did you like it?"

"Like it! why not at all, of course; who would like a flogging?"

"Would the chance of getting another flogging not deter you from committing another crime?"

"I would as soon be 'topt' as be flogged now, because a good bashing would kill me; but no fear of punishment would deter me, if I saw my way clear to get off. I never do a job until I feel certain I'll escape. If I'm caught that's my fault, and I must chance the punishment, whatever it may be. Another 'legging' would kill me, but if I cannot get a living at hawking I will be forced to go on the 'cross,' and 'God help the man that tries to catch me.' These places are getting so hot that a fellow had better commit murder and be 'topt' at once."

"If you had a safe where would you place it to be most secure?"

"In the street, and then your servants couldn't put you away."

"How would you carry your gold watch if you had one?"

"Well, I would have one with a patent bow, and I would take care not to flash my chain. If you keep your chain out of sight you are pretty safe as long as you are sober, and every man who gets drunk ought to lose his watch; the thief should get a reward for doing that job. It's safer of course to carry the watch in the fob than in the waistcoat pocket, particularly if the chain is exposed, but it can easily be taken from any part, if the chain is seen, unless you have a catch in your pocket to hold it. You know the way we do is to twist the bow of the watch and it breaks in a second."

"What do you get for a watch, usually?"

"From three to six pounds, according to the value of the watch."

"That seems a very low price to get for a good gold watch?"

"Yes, but five pounds, I assure you, is considered a good price by the man who stands 'fence,' and if a fellow can get eight or ten in a day he may do very well at that, but I have not done any 'buzzing' for a long time, I am too old for that game, and I can't afford to run a risk for five pounds. This hot work in prison will make thieves look after larger stakes."

"I would recommend you very strongly to go on the square when you get out, and not on the cross; you might easily make a better living by hawking than at this weary work, at all events."

"I mean to go on the square as long as I can do without working, I am not able for hard work and I do not intend to do any more, neither in nor out of prison; but if I can't make a living honestly you may be sure I shall not starve."



CHAPTER XIX.

PRISONERS' CONVERSATIONS—LARRY AND TIM GET INTO CHOKEY—BIG CROPPY—WHAT PAT GETS "IN FOR"—MALICIOUS GAMBLING—PAT'S PATENT FOR GETTING A NEW COAT—DICK'S EXPLOITS—NED'S ADVENTURES AND ESCAPES—A NEW SCREW ARRIVES—A PRISONER EMPTIES THE WINE CUP AT THE ALTAR—NED, DICK, AND PAT'S OPINION ABOUT BADGES, CLASSIFICATION, HEAD BLOKES, PRISONERS' AID SOCIETY, AND THE IRISH SYSTEM.

The following are specimens of the conversations which take place among the prisoners as they meet in the ordinary course of their prison employment. They were quite unaware that there was anyone near listening to them, or taking more than an ordinary interest in their remarks to each other, and my report may be taken as a perfectly accurate representation of ordinary convict conversation and phraseology.

"Well, Dick, how are you?"

"Oh! pretty well, Ned, how's yourself?"

"Well, I'm among the middlings only. That beastly bad cheese they gave us yesterday hasn't agreed with me, and I think I shall hook it up to the 'farm'[21] for a week or two, and get a change of diet before going home. I am only waiting to get a bit of 'snout,' and then I shall send in a sick report. Have you heard what Larry and Tim have got this morning? Larry's got three days' bread and water, seven days' penal-class diet, and 'blued' fourteen days' remission; and Tim's got three days."

[21] Hospital.

"Well, Larry partly deserves it. He was a fool to let the 'screw' see he had the 'snout;' but what was Tim's offence?"

"Speaking to a fellow in the ranks, and merely saying 'It was a fine morning;' he'll get turned out of the cook-house, too. It's a —— shame, when other fellows talk away in the ranks every day. I say, what day do you go home?"

"I ought to go on the 2nd, but these —— licenses will be late again, no doubt, and very likely I shall not go before the 10th or 20th of the month. Have you any message for me to carry out?"

"Do you remember 'Big Croppy?'"

"Yes."

"Well, he's been to my wife since he went out, and told her all manner of lies. He's told her that I accuse her of going with another man, and she has been to my mother and told her that she is not going to write to me any more, nor to live with me again. I have been to ask for a special sheet of paper to write and tell them that it is all lies Croppy has told them; but the —— governor won't grant me paper. So, as I am not due to write for nearly three months, I wish you would call on my mother and my wife, and tell them how things stand."

"I will, you may depend upon that, and I'll get some 'bloke' to give Croppy a pair of black eyes for his pains, the —— swine."

"Here comes Pat.—Well, Pat, have you heard that Larry and Tim have gone to chokey?"

"Yes," replied Pat; "but what screw reported Tim?"

"That leather-skinned cranky old terrier over there reported Tim, and the 'bloke' with the peg-top whiskers reported Larry."

"Bad 'cess to the 'terrier!' I have a good mind to punch him in the ear-hole."

"That would fetch a bashing, Pat."

"Troth, and I've had a bashing once afore, and what I've had once I can do with agin."

"Did you holloa when you were bashed?"

"Holloa! by the piper, I sang out—

'The seeds of repentance, how can they take root, When I'm ruled by a tyrant and flogged like a brute; The plant of revenge is more likely to sprout When such monsters of jailers go strutting about.'

"And I called them all the horrid names I could think on, and they were wild when they saw I was game."

"Where were you bashed?"

"At Bermuda; and by the piper, they once flogged men before the altar there, and then called the prisoners into chapel and preached to them about forgiving one another, and showing mercy to one another, the —— hypocrites."

"What are you here for this time?"

"Oh, nothing at all. I am like the bloke in the song—

'One day as I passed I looked into the kitchen, Where I saw a pot boiling, but not for poor Pat; For love and for thieving I'd always an itchin', So I took out the mutton and put in the cat.'"

"I understand there was a great many unnatural crimes committed at Bermuda?"

"Oh! shocking. The young lads would go about with their pockets full of money, and their hair decked up like girls. It was disgusting, 'pon my word; and do you know what the authorities called it when cases were brought before them?"

"No."

"Why, 'malicious gambling.' That was to deceive the public, you know. There was plenty of 'snout' knocking about in all the prisons in those days, and a fellow hadn't to go a day without a taste as he has to do now sometimes. We used to have lots of rum at Bermuda, as well as 'snout,' and first-rate liquor, too. By the piper! I wish I had a drop now."

"How much could you do with?"

"A wee drop in a bucket, about two hoops up. The last time I'd a drop o' rum in me, do you know what I did? I had on a very shabby coat, all torn at the elbows, and only one tail to it, so I spied a country bloke with his girl, dressed out in new toggery. I says to my pal, 'I say, O'Shockady, there's a new coat on that bloke's back that I must have on mine; he is just about my size. You go up and be messing about with his girl, and you'll see he will guard and offer to fight. You take off your coat and put up your 'props' to him, and get him to strip also. Well, I'll come up and see fair play, and while you're at the fists I'll leave my tog and take his, d'ye twig?' Well, up O'Shockady went, and, my crikey! if you had seen how the bloke fired up when his girl was insulted! why, his coat was off in a jiffey, and it was soon farther off than he could catch, I can tell you. After I got round the corner O'Shockady gave in to the bloke and bolted, leaving him in his shirt-sleeves to escort the girl."

"That reminds me," said Dick, "of an affair I was once in. When I was a lad I ran away from home. I was afraid to go back, lest I should get a bashing. At that time there was a woman in the High Street of Edinburgh, who took in lads situated as I was, and made them go out and steal, to pay her for their lodging. There were about twenty of us in the house at the time I went; some of them wenches and some of them young chaps like myself. Well, one night we were rather hard up and we wanted a good feed, so five or six of us set out, along with a great stout fellow, and we actually stole a whole sheep that was hanging at a butcher's door, and the big chap swagged it home. The old woman had it put in the bed, and covered it with the bed-clothes, as if it was a sick person; and the 'bobbies' found it there before she had time to get it cooked for us, and, by jingo! we were all marched up to the 'lock-up' over it. Well, I got thirty days over that job. When I came out of jail I went to a fair in the neighbourhood, and I prigged a countryman's 'poke' as he was standing at one of those barrows where they shoot for nuts; and, by the piper! the 'copper' saw me and marched me off to the station. But just before coming out of the crowd I got twisted round a little behind the 'bobby,' and I passed the purse into his pocket. Well, off we marched to the station, and when we arrived there the policeman swore that I stole a purse, and that I had it on me, as he saw me put it into my pocket. They searched me, but of course found nothing, and I got off. Determined not to lose the 'poke,' which had a good many 'quids' in it, I watched the 'copper,' and prigged it out of his pocket again. It was the same 'bobby' as got me this bit, and I told him then all about it."

"I once," chimed in Ned, "buzzed a woman on the 'fly,' and got her poke with eighteen bob in it; she soon missed it, and I saw her go into a shop, and watched her crying to the shopkeeper and telling him that she had got all her husband's earnings for the week stolen. Well, I knew she was a poor woman by that, and I went up and asked her if she had lost a purse, as I had found one. She said she had, and I gave it to her again. Now, mind you, I was very hard up at the time, but I don't hold with stealing from poor people. Men that have more than they know what to do with in a country where thousands are starving, ought to have some of it taken from them: that I call 'fairation.' I once prigged a priest's pocket, and he collared me and said, 'Well, if you think you have a better right to that purse than I have, you may keep it.' 'Well, sir,' I said, 'I'm very hard up, and as there are only a few shillings in it I hope you will allow me to keep them,' and, by jingo! if the good old fellow didn't let me off, blessings on his head for it. One of the narrowest escapes I ever had was one time I prigged a poke with only seven shillings and sixpence in it. The copper saw me, and chased me like Jehu. Well, I out with the money, pitched the purse away, so that it could not be easily got again; and, one by one, I swallowed the coins, and just as I was getting the sixpence down my throat the 'bobby' had a hold of me by the collar. Of course he was too late. I hadn't a rap in my pockets, but it was very near a 'legging' for me. I had another narrow escape not long before I got this bit. I knew a gentleman's house where they laid out the breakfast dishes on the table for an hour before they took breakfast. During this hour the room was left untenanted, and the window left open to let in the air. Well, I bolted in and 'nicked' a nice silver teapot, cream jug, and one or two other things, and off I started home, where I 'planted' the articles, and then went to bed. Shortly afterwards a bobby came to the door, and although I told them to say I was not at home, to get him kept from coming in, by jingo! I soon found he was coming to search the house. So I bolted out of bed like a shot, put my clothes into a drawer, and up I went through a sort of trap-door on to the roof of the house, and perched myself behind the chimney of the next house, with nothing on but my shirt and stockings; I hadn't time even to get my trousers pulled on. Oh! didn't I sit shivering there till they gave me the tip that all was right in the house. The 'toff' that owned the 'wedge' made a dreadful song about it next day, and him wallowing in wealth, what do you think of that? The copper knew I did that job, and had me up on suspicion some time after, and gave me a drag (three months) over it. The next bit I did was a 'sixer' (six months), and I escaped from prison in about three weeks after I got it. Soon after that I got this seven 'stretch' (years), and, by the piper! I'll take care and not get the next for nothing!"

"Oh! crikey," cried Pat, "here's a new screw come; what has he been, I wonder?"

"Where is he?" said Ned.

"Yonder; he is coming this way, with a tall complexion, a leg o' mutton whisker, and a pock-marked shirt," replied Pat.

"Why, he's a big fellow?"

"Big! I should think he was. He is like a double-breasted beer barrel. He's been a screw at some other prison; you can see that by the cut of his jib."

"Oh! I know him," said Dick, "he's from Dartmoor; he is not a bad sort of fellow, that. He is straightforward, and if ever he takes a prisoner before the governor he speaks the truth, and you know they don't all do that, by a long way."

"How long were you at the Moor, Dick?"

"Three years; but it's not like the same place now. Oh! we had rare sport there at one time. There was an old half 'barmey' chap when I was there, who was once admitted to the 'communion,' and it happened to be his turn to get the wine first, and, by the piper! if he didn't drink every drop that was in the cup, and cried, 'Oh! that's fine! I do love this! I do love this!' We had plum pudding at Christmas in those days, and the roughs did anything they liked almost, if they didn't strike a screw. There was too much license there then, but now it's all the other way. What good is this humbugging system going to do us? If they want to keep us out of prison why don't they get work for us that we can earn a proper living at?"

"Oh! they're a lot of jackasses, that's what they are; they don't know what to do with us," said Ned.

"Look at this classification, and these marks and badges," said Dick, "why, isn't it scandalous the way the public are gulled? First there were big leather badges, that would cost probably a thousand pounds at all the prisons. Then these were done away with, and we had badges half the size, and then, after a few weeks, these were replaced by bits of cloth. I wonder what they mean by all these changes of dress? Do they think it punishes us?"

"No doubt they do."

"What fools they must be; what do we care what we wear in prison, as long as it isn't thin rags that won't keep out the cold. Oh, have you read that article in one of the periodicals about the Andaman Islands?"

"No."

"Well, the bloke who writes it proposes to send convicts out there, and keep them for life and compel them to marry prostitutes or female convicts, and then when the 'kids' are grown to take them away from them! The fool! why, all convicts haven't life sentences, and does he think that they would remain out there and do as he liked after their time was up? It isn't likely."

"Why, that would be worse than the slave trade," said Ned, "and wouldn't there be a nice crop of murders there? Why, they would require to get a factory specially for making hemp ropes to hang the culprits."

"Who is it that writes the article?" asked Pat.

"A government commissioner, but he does not give his name."

"Troth, and I should be ashamed to give it if I was he; I propose he should be taken and compelled to marry a 'tail,'[22] and sent out to try it himself first; why such men are not fit to live, and these are Christians! those are the men who do unto others as they wish to be done by, God help us!"

[22] Prostitute.

"Have you heard what the director did when he was down on Saturday?" enquired Ned.

"A precious sight of good he does to be sure," replied Dick, "why he has given orders that no prisoner is to be allowed to see him about the food and the marks, and you must tell the chief warder what you want to see the director about before you can be allowed to go before him. Isn't that a pretty thing? What a nice easy way of earning a thousand a year the director has?"

"What has caused this fresh order?"

"There were two causes—three of the convalescent invalids went to the director to ask to be able-bodied in order to get the able-bodied diet. They are doing as much work now, except that they are not quite so long at it, but they are willing to work for the diet the same as the others. The director refused to allow them to work more, and of course they can't get the grub, and he gave orders that no more of such cases should be allowed to come before him. Another case was this—two fellows saved their cheese on the sly for several weeks, and in this way managed to have each about four cheeses beside them. Well, one of them told the officials what he was going to do, and the other kept his intentions secret. The first one went before the director and asked him if he would be kind enough to look at the cheese he had been supplied with for some weeks, and see whether it was the quality it ought to have been. The governor chimed in at once, and said that this was the only complaint he had heard about the cheese, and that all the other prisoners were satisfied. The prisoner was then bounced out of the room, and threatened with a 'report' if he complained again. Well the next man was called, and this happened to be the other 'bloke' with the four cheeses. Before going in he took them out of his pocket, and what do you think they did? Why, he wasn't allowed to go before the director at all; they squared him and coaxed him, and at last persuaded him not to insist on seeing the director at all, by threatening to send him to the refractory cells for having four cheeses on his person, which was quite contrary to the prison rules! Isn't it a —— shame the way the head blokes go on? How can they expect a fellow to reform when they rob us of our food and show us a bad example?"

"What o'clock is it, Pat; d'ye see the clock there?"

"It wants a quarter to three; I say, Dick, will you give me a mutton for a pudding, that beastly stuff lays heavy on my stomach, and I know you are fond of it."

"I don't mind, but how are you to get it sent to me?"

"I'll send it by some fellow in our ward who works in your gang."

"I am hard up for snout," said Ned, "can you give us a bit, Pat? Upon my word I've just had one old pipe head for the last three days and it wasn't up to much, it had been too much used."

"Well, I'll lend you an inch or two, but I hope you will soon pay me back; why there is none to be had now under a bob an ounce; but I say, Ned, if you should get another legging I would advise you to declare yourself a Jew. You look something like a sheeney at any rate. Why look at that old 'Chickarlico;' he goes twice a week to school and has two Sundays every week, besides ever so many feast days."

"Oh, I can do another 'bit,' no matter whether I am Jew, Turk, or Christian; but if I get an easy job I mean to go on the square, upon my word I do."

"Who'll employ you, do you think?"

"Why, I shall go to the society."

"The society be ——! they will not do you any good."

"I believe it is under new management now, and they don't cheat a fellow out of his gratuity as they used to do; but I think it's a wrong name to give it—The Prisoners' Aid Society! the very cases requiring most aid they won't assist at all, and unless a fellow is stout and hearty and has got some gratuity they won't have anything to do with him. If I had only a few shillings coming due to me they would not aid me, but as I have five or six pounds they will, now that looks suspicious. Then, if I had lost a leg, like that bloke over there, they wouldn't aid me. But if I don't go to the society I will, perhaps, go to Ireland and give them a turn there."

"Oh!" said Pat, "you'll find nothing that wants lifting there."

"Have you been to Spike Island, Pat?"

"Yes."

"What sort of place is it, and what about this Irish system?"

"Oh! the place is something like the public works here, and as for the Irish System—I can see nothing in it except that they get most of the prisoners sent to America, and if they would send us there, we might get a living too, without going on the cross! There are not many regular prigs in the Irish prisons. Many of them are fellows who got into trouble in some drunken row, and the people in Ireland are not so prejudiced against convicts as the English are, so that work is easier got; another thing is when your time is near up you are trusted a little, and get some liberty to go about. In this way the authorities can see who's who. Then the numbers are fewer altogether, and a small lot of men are easier dealt with, you know, than many thousands. It wouldn't work quite so well here, but the great thing is sending the prisoners abroad in some way or other. Do you know that Lafferty and Badger are going to be sent to New Orleans, by the Catholic Aid Society?"

"No! what will Lafferty do there?"

"Oh! he must go on the cross, I expect, but Badger is able to work. He's a very good 'buzzer,' is Lafferty, mind you, and he might do very well out there."

"Well, the time's up Ned, I suppose you'll be going up to the 'farm' to-night, and we sha'n't see you again. Well, old fellow, take care of old Tommy's black draughts, and look after yourself when you get out. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, old fellow, good luck to ye."

"Fall in."

"There's the officer shouting 'fall in.'"

"Well, ta ta."

"Ta ta."



CHAPTER XX.

CAPITAL PUNISHMENTS—I RECEIVE MY LICENSE—STRANGE BED-FELLOWS—MY LIBERATION.

During the last year of my imprisonment a bill relating to the crimes of murder and manslaughter was brought before Parliament, and the discussion in the House of Commons which ensued was much commented upon by the prisoners. About the same time I read a lecture touching on the same subject, which had been delivered to the Young Men's Christian Association, at Exeter Hall, and it may not be out of place here if I venture to express my opinion on the subject as well, possessing as I do the advantage over most of those who have discussed it out of doors, in having heard the opinions of those likely to commit such crimes, and having a familiar acquaintance with their habits, and the motives from which they act. The reverend lecturer to whom I have referred, based his argument for the continued infliction of capital punishment on the perpetual obligation of the Mosaic law: "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed." He also maintained, if I understand him rightly, that the office of the hangman ought to be considered the highest object of human ambition, and that the hangman himself should take precedence of archbishops, kings, and emperors, inasmuch as he occupied the position of Almighty God, taking vengeance for the shedding of human blood. I confess I can scarcely conceive of a Christian man occupying such a position, neither can I agree with the reverend lecturer that the command given to Noah was intended to extend to all generations and societies of men. When it was promulgated there were only a few individuals left to people the universe, and the command was made absolute. There is no intimation of any distinction between the deliberate and the accidental shedding of human blood, and until some such distinction is made our conceptions of the eternal rectitude and justice of God, must be of a very peculiar and imperfect kind. That some distinction ought to be made is a fact which men in all ages and of all degrees of civilization have recognized, and have found their authority for making such a distinction, not in any spoken or written law, but in a much higher and older law than these, the universal conscience of mankind. That such a distinction was found necessary as the race became more numerous, is conclusively shown by the promulgation of the Mosaic law: "He that smiteth a man so that he die shall be surely put to death, and if a man lie not in wait, but God deliver him into his hand, then I will appoint thee a place whither he shall flee." (Ex. xxi., 12, 13.) This was a great modification of the original injunction, and also shows clearly, to my mind at least, that all human punishments should be regulated by the condition of the people for whose benefit they are designed. Again, in the same chapter from which I have already quoted, I find the following, "Thou shalt give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, &c.," a law evidently designed for a semi-barbarous people, and admitting of prompt administration and summary execution. Turning to the Christian law on the subject we find, "Ye have heard that it hath been said an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, but I say unto you that ye resist not evil." This would appear to introduce a new principle of forbearance, and if we refer to the case of the woman taken in adultery, where the legal penalty was death, we find that mercy, and not vengeance, is the principle on which our penal code ought to be based.

But leaving scriptural grounds and descending to those of expediency merely. Does capital punishment deter men from committing murder more effectually than perpetual imprisonment would? I believe that 999 out of every 1000 of our convicts even would not commit deliberate murder, although the penalty was only a few months' imprisonment and detection certain, unless under peculiar temptation or provocation. It is a crime naturally abhorrent even to the thief, and the majority of those men capable of committing wilful murder would on the whole, I believe, prefer to be hanged out of their misery, than remain in prison all their life. If all hope of release could be utterly extinguished, very few of such men would chance perpetual imprisonment, if they had it in their option. Of course we could not banish hope from the minds of all, and therefore many would at first cling to life, and after a few years seek death as a release from bondage, and even commit suicide rather than endure such suffering longer. I knew one prisoner who pleaded to be hanged, and others who would certainly prefer execution if they had no hope of ultimate liberty. The general opinion of those who had been in prison ten or twelve years out of a 'life' sentence was in favour of execution at once, as being the less dreadful alternative, so that with respect to punishment as a deterring influence, I have no doubt that perpetual imprisonment would be more efficacious than the capital sentence.

Those who are capable of deliberately taking human life with the view of obtaining money, may be divided into two classes. The one class comprising such as prisoners who perpetrate the crime cunningly and in secret, in the firm belief that they will escape detection; the other class are the highwaymen and garotters, who go daringly and violently to work, pretty sure in their own minds that they will be clever enough to escape.

With regard to the former class, the deterring influence is detection. Capital sentence, perpetual imprisonment, or even a less severe sentence would operate equally in preventing the commission of the crime in their case, because the idea is not generally present in their mind when they premeditate it, or is completely outweighed by the fear of detection or discovery. With reference to the second and bolder class, a lingering imprisonment would appear more horrible in their estimation, and exercise an equal if not a greater deterring influence than the scaffold. Some of those men with whom I have met would glory in dying 'game' as they term it. Those who commit murder in order to gratify feelings of revenge, usually, I believe, find the gratification of the passion so sweet that they are for the time quite regardless of their own lives; and when jealousy is the cause of murder, it often happens that the murderer takes the law into his own hands and visits upon himself the penalty. I met cases in point, and in none of them did the fear of the death sentence operate against the perpetration of crime. They had made up their minds to lose their lives, and did not calculate on escape. Such cases are not common, however, and perhaps it is not possible to prevent them occurring.

Those murders perpetrated for the love of money might to some extent be prevented by the general elevation of the mass of society, and by increasing the swiftness and certainty of detection; and I have come, after long study of the subject, and from frequent contact with those saved from the gallows, to the conclusion that capital punishment may now be safely abolished in this country. In all countries where secondary punishments are severe and capital punishments rigorously inflicted, murders are numerous, and in countries where the machinery for the detection of crime is defective it may be the same. Earl Russell, in a late edition of his work on the constitution, expresses opinions on this subject with which I coincide, but I disagree with him when he prescribes imprisonment and hard labour as being the most suitable method of dealing with criminals not capitally punished; I refer, of course, to imprisonment and hard labour as generally understood.

There are three systems of imprisonment: the solitary, the separate and silent, and the promiscuous association of all prisoners at the public works.

The solitary system feeds the lunatic asylums, the separate system has its advantages, if not too long continued, and of the promiscuous association system I have already at some length given my opinion.

In my humble estimation a prison ought to be a place for extracting as much usefulness as possible out of a prisoner for the benefit of that society whose laws he has offended; but the "hard labour" in our prisons is not useful in any sense of the word, either to the prisoner or society, it is sheer waste of energy, which is in itself an evil, and it gives the prisoner an aversion to labour of all kinds, which is another and a much greater evil. Moreover, long imprisonments are injurious to the prisoner under any discipline. If you take a bird, and place it in a cage, and next day liberate it, it will ever retain a dread of confinement; but, if you keep it in a prison for years, and then open the cage door, instead of the sudden eager flight to freedom, it will hover round its little prison, perhaps it will even re-enter it, preferring it to that liberty which it has lost the power to enjoy. So it is with many prisoners, keep them confined, and accustom them for years to prison life, such as it is in the most approved "models," or indeed under any conceivable mode of discipline consistent with unshortened life in such a place, and they will re-enter the world in a great measure, unfitted for the business of life.

I remember having a conversation with an intelligent prisoner who was by no means a criminal at heart. He asked me what means would I recommend for the destruction of these schools of crime?—for so he called the convict prisons.

"Sentence Charles Dickens to ten years' penal servitude, and allow him to use his pen," I replied.

"Well," he said, "I daresay that might do, especially if those intended for our future judges were sentenced along with him; but why should we not try to enlighten the public when we are liberated?"

"You might do so," I replied, "and I sincerely hope you will do so; but I fear, like the down of a thistle on an elephant's back, so would the words of a convict fall upon the public ear!"

"Look at Napoleon III.," said my friend, "he is an ex-convict, and do his words fall lightly on the public ear?"

"His is hardly a case in point," I said; "the greater the criminal, or rather the higher the object he endeavours unlawfully to obtain, the less prejudiced is society against him. They regard these Fenians for instance in a different light to us, yet these men at bottom are or would be wholesale destroyers of human life, whilst we had no intention of doing anyone any injury either in person or property. We are loyal, they are traitors. We would willingly lay down our lives to regain our lost characters and attain to an honourable and useful position in society; they will go out of prison rebels, ready to take up arms against all authority save that of their misguided chiefs, whenever they can do so with apparent safety! Yet these men will be more favourably received by society than you or I will be. You will find when you get free that your position will be very different from what it was, and that anything you say will be viewed with suspicion, as coming from a prejudiced and untrustworthy person, and a well-told falsehood by an official will far outweigh the whole truth if related by a prisoner."

"I could now prove," said my friend, "by the Blue Books, that most of the reports sent to the Home Office regarding these establishments are unreliable, and calculated to deceive and mislead the public as well as the government."

"You will require to be very guarded," I replied; "and above all things adhere strictly to the truth, and if you can gain the ear of some eminent man who takes an interest in the question, you might be the means of doing your country much service."

In consequence of such conversations as the one I have just related, I was led to form the idea of giving this narrative to the public. If it should lead to any change or modification in our criminal law, conducive to the welfare and security of society, I shall consider that my labours have not been altogether vain and unprofitable.

A change of government having taken place during the last year of my imprisonment I had the good fortune to get a few months' more remission of sentence than might otherwise have been the case.

While I feel truly thankful to those noblemen and gentlemen and other friends who interceded for me, my special gratitude is due to Mr. Walpole, for the promptitude he displayed in acknowledging my claim to the few months' mitigation of punishment it was in his power to bestow.

On a Friday morning I was unexpectedly called before the governor, and informed that my license had arrived. I was asked certain particulars in reference to my future intentions and address. I was next measured for a shoe, the only decent and honest article of clothing I ever received in prison; tried on a suit of clothes, and had my portrait taken. On the Saturday morning I was weighed and measured, and taken before the chaplain to receive a few formal words of parting advice. On the following Monday I was again taken before the governor to hear my license read. On Tuesday morning I was removed to Millbank Prison, and lodged there for the night, in a cell along with two other prisoners going to liberty like myself. We slept on narrow dirty mattresses, laid on the floor, so close as to be touching each other. One of my new companions had been nearly four years in the lunatic asylum at Fisherton, and had recovered. The other was a young professional thief, belonging to London, whose mind was just on the verge of insanity, through long confinement in separate cells. To sleep on the floor of a dusty cell, between two such companions, was not quite so comfortable as a bed in the Hotel Meurice, at Paris, where I had spent my last free night. Every moment that divided me from the hour of my liberation now seemed magnified into days. Wednesday morning at last dawned upon me. I was taken out and placed before a regiment of policemen, who each scrutinized me, and that done I received my license. With feelings of inexpressible thankfulness and gratitude to God I heard the heavy prison doors close behind me, and once more I inhaled the sweet free air of Heaven!

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I trudged along the streets, in my shabby clothes and with my deal crutch. I felt a new punishment creeping over me, even whilst the glorious sun of freedom was shedding its welcome rays on my dishonoured head.

With nineteen shillings and threepence in my pocket, but with my reputation lost, my health ruined, alone and a cripple, whom no "Prisoners' Aid Society" would assist, I was expected to begin anew the battle of life!

While I write these lines the bitterness of my new punishment has already visited me. Repulsed from every door where I seek employment, waiting patiently for the replies to my applications for advertised situations, which never come, the brand of the convict has indeed become the very mark of Cain, and I feel as if my fellowmen shrink from me as they pass. Fortunately I found at the post-office a few pounds sent to me from my brother, which, with slight additions, have enabled me to procure a mechanical leg, and to live till I have completed this narrative. But what is the fate of the many so situated, with no friends to help them, save the workhouse or the prison once again? A dreary life amongst paupers, or a short life of pleasure and crime, and long years of bondage to atone for it. Do you wonder if some choose the latter?... May you, gentle reader, never know what it is to lose your limb, your liberty, your character, or your home. May my history prove a beacon to warn you from the quicksands of ambition, on which so many human souls are wrecked, and may your little barque, wafted by gentle sunny gales, be safely steered across the great ocean of life, and at last be securely moored in that haven where blessedness and peace for ever reign!



APPENDIX.

Consultat General de France en Angleterre.

Londres, le 1^er September, 1863.

Le Consul General de France a Londres a l'honneur de transmettre a Monsieur ——, avec priere de vouloir bien lui en accuser reception, une lettre et une medaille qui lui sont destinees.

Monsieur ——, Negociant.



Ministere de l'Agriculture du Commerce, et des Travaux Public—Secretarian General, Medaille.

Paris, le 22 Juin, 1863.

Monsieur a la suite du traite de commerce conclu le 23 Janvier, 1860, entre la France et la Grande Bretagne, le Gouvernement de Sa Majeste l'Empereur a du proceder a une enquete dont les resultats devaient le mettre a meme de determiner les Tarifs des droit d'importation en France des produits fabriques en Angleterre. Pour Consacrer le Souvenir de cette enquete, l'une des plus importantes de ce genre qui aient ete faites en France, le Gouvernement a fait frapper une medaille commemorative et il a decide qu'un exemplaire en bronze de cette medaille serait mis a la disposition des Industriels qui ont depose dans l'enquete. J'ai l'honneur, Monsieur, de vous adresser a ce titre l'exemplaire qui vous est destine. Recevez, Monsieur, l'assurance de ma consideration tres distinguee.

Le Ministre de l'Agriculture, du Commerce et des Travaux Public,

G. ROUHER.

Monsieur ——, Negociant.



[It is requested that any further communication on the subject be addressed to the Secretary to the Board of Trade, Whitehall, London, S.W.]

Office of Committee of Privy Council for Trade,

Whitehall, 9th May, 1861.

SIR,

I am directed by the Lords of the Committee of Privy Council for Trade to transmit to you the accompanying Volume, which contains the evidence taken by the Counseil Superieur du Commerce on the Industries of England and France, during their recent enquiry at Paris, in connection with the Commercial Treaty between the two countries. In requesting your acceptance of this Work, of which a limited number of Copies has been placed at the disposal of Her Majesty's Government by the Government of France, I am to convey to you the best thanks of this Board for the valuable assistance which you rendered upon that occasion, both to the Counseil Superieur and to the British Commissions.

I am, Sir,

Your obedient Servant,

J. EMMERSON TENNENT.



Order of License to a Convict, made under the Statutes 16 & 17 Vic., c. 99, s. 9; and 27 & 28 Vic., c. 47, s. 4.

Whitehall, —— day of —— 18—

Her Majesty is graciously pleased to grant to —— who was convicted of —— on the —— day of —— 18—, and was then and there sentenced to be kept in penal servitude for the term of ——, and is now confined in the —— Her Royal License to be at large from the day of his liberation under this order, during the remaining portion of his said term of penal servitude, unless the said —— shall, before the expiration of the said term, be convicted of some indictable offence within the United Kingdom, in which case such License will be immediately forfeited by law, or unless it shall please Her Majesty sooner to revoke or alter such License.

This License is given subject to the conditions endorsed upon the same, upon the breach of any of which it shall be liable to be revoked, whether such breach is followed by a conviction or not. And Her Majesty hereby orders that the said —— be set at liberty within Thirty days from the date of this order.

Given under my hand and seal.

Signed, S. H. WALPOLE.

True Copy } E. Y. W. HENDERSON, License to be at large.} Chairman of the Directors of Convict Prisons.

* * * * * *

CONDITIONS.

1.—The holder shall preserve his License, and produce it when called upon to do so by a Magistrate or Police Officer.

2.—He shall abstain from any violation of the law.

3.—He shall not habitually associate with notoriously bad characters, such as reputed thieves and prostitutes.

4.—He shall not lead an idle or dissolute life, without visible means of obtaining an honest livelihood.

If his License is forfeited or revoked in consequence of a Conviction for any Offence, he will be liable to undergo a term of Penal Servitude equal to the portion of his term of —— years which remained unexpired when his License was granted, viz.:—the term of two years and eleven months.

* * * * * *

NOTICE.

He shall report himself to the Police on discharge, and subsequently once in each month; and if he changes his residence from one Police District to another, he shall report himself to the Police of the locality he leaves, and to the Police of that to which he goes, within three days of his arrival: if he fails to do so, his License will be forfeited.

* * * * * *

In the foregoing "Ticket-of-leave" the word Licence is spelt with an s. In the Police Documents it is spelt with a c.—So much for the education of Government Officials.

* * * * * *

SAVOY STEAM PRESS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.

THE END